Tag Archives: History

Tales from the City- Mucking about in a London Cave.

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Ah ghosts, war, rock and roll, and not forgetting those Druids, means only one thing -Chislehurst Caves. The caves are actually a series of man-made tunnels, hand dug, scoop by scoop, to create rooms and caverns, burrowing some 22 miles … Continue reading

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Tales from the City-a great man’s chair

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Sir Winston Churchill’s favourite spot, a chair by his beloved goldfish pond. A few moments away from a troubled world in Chartwell Kent, to start off the week.

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The Old Terraced House- The Beast of a cooker!

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Ah, the kitchen. Here everything is cooked up, school lunches, dinners with friends, Nespresso cups of coffee, arguments, laughs, it is the beating heart of the home.  Quite often when people come into the old terraced house, the first thing … Continue reading

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Restless as a March Hare!

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The other day there was a flood of sunshine. How it warmed the body but anxiously stirred the mind! Restless energy filled the air. Ted felt it too. He sat outside in the sun refusing to come inside. He was … Continue reading

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Tales from the City- The Samosa Queen

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The Shame of the Samosa Queen… or do you love anyone enough to give them your last Rolo? Every Tuesday morning my neighbour starts cooking and I try to think of reasons to stay home. The smell drifts over the … Continue reading

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Tales From The City-Putney Bridge

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PUTNEY BRIDGE -RIDING THE TUBE I had just spent a lovely afternoon in Fulham, and it was time to get back home.  I had spent some time in the Fulham Palace Gardens, not too far from my tube stop. The … Continue reading

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We were young gods flying through alleyways!

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If anyone needs any proof  that I am an incurable romantic, they needn’t look any further than my Dutch City Bike, Omafiets, which just means Grandma bike. So naturally I named mine Oma. Oma is just that, a bike that … Continue reading

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Tales from the City-The Little Bookshop somewhere on Charing Cross Road.

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Sometimes going back in time is a colossal mistake. I remember traipsing after my father along Charing Cross Road to various little bookshops with lead fronted windows and solid wood doors. I didn’t pay too much attention to the shop’s … Continue reading

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