cat hill

My old refound Irish friend in England asked me whereabouts I have lived in London. So there it is, Cat Hill, the house on the south side with a bus stop in front of it. Broadloom in the bathroom. It must have been around christmas 1990, because I remember bobbies singing christmas carols in the street, and Piffin was just starting to talk. She didn't, and then one day, leaving the bakery, she suddenly produced a very very English sounding "bye bye", loud and clear. I almost had a heart attack. We were in London because Michiel was doing part of his masters in computer animation there. It was a Europe wide organized course, another part was in the south of France, which I think is a much better idea. France came before England, and we had learned there that it is not easy to live with only one car load of belongings. So moving to London, we really really stuffed the car, Michiel even made a big wooden box for on top, we still have it. A British customs officer asked us where we had our kitchen sink. London wasn't very child friendly. There was only one pub in Soho that let us in, as long as we sat close to the door. The art school had its own pub, it opened early in the afternoon, and students could (and would) drink themselves silly from as early as that. We were often playing billiard in that pub, but only as long as the stupid gate at the bar was closed, when it opened we had to leave. As if Piffin was in any danger, pathetic. We had a good time in London for seven months or so, but life was pretty hard. London was extremely expensive, it is the only place in the world where we ever went to McDonalds. We couldn't afford much else. And it was hard to find good coffee. And the Underground was a nightmare with a buggy. And we had very bad skin from the pollution. But we had this car, and my favourite thing was driving through Baker Street, cars almost ticking each other's side view mirrors.