This is a whole new ball game for me attempting to write a blog, my rather clouded brain can remember what happened thirty years ago with colour perfect detail, yet, if I was asked what I did yesterday Id certainly have to think a little harder, I lie, a lot harder.

Eleven years ago I had two strokes, the first one I’m sure was just checking to see if I actually had any senses to give me a good beating, strangely, the warning signs I experienced of not grasping the kettle handle and weakness on my left side were pushed aside, all part I guess of a work hard, play hard lifestyle, looking back now, what a mess I was in.

I had moved to London from my home town where I had met my now dear dear friend Chris, once life partner, (but, that’s another story) we lived just off the SouthBank near the Globe Theatre, London Bridge Tube station and Borough Market, which incidentally is now featured in almost every cookery programme on TV and a sure fired place to pay nearly £5 for an organic cucumber.
Our little flat was marked as *C* of ten, on the second floor of a Victorian building, originally built for the poor in 1864, a concept by a woman with an agenda named Octavia Hall, who later gave her legacy to the birth of The National Trust.

Red painted cast iron railings adorned the exterior, the East facing vista comprised of the mainline railways from Charing Cross, Cannon street and junctions to either London Bridge or Waterloo East, uneven & dilapidated roofs of printing houses, warehouses and the Hop Exchange, pigeons, lots of them, oh and a vacant space on the skyline which is now occupied by The Shard, now a building of beauty, once but a dream, a vision of a rag trade merchant who operated from Carnaby Street, a business man named Irvin Sellar aiming high into the future.

I can still hear the continuos screaming of worn train wheels braking on the rail tracks, and of course the smell, black greasy carbon like, the grime permeating it’s way into the interior of the flat where such happy memories were made & laughter abound.

A brewery originally owned by Barclays Brewers, later to be monopolised by Courage once stood adjacent, the yard where the horse & dreys operated from is now a complex of assisted living units for the aged and disabled whose inhabitants stare out onto a courtyard and a fountain, lonely souls awaiting company from family members who sometimes remember them.

….. Now, what was I saying?!