The House Husband

I woke early this morning in order to gloss the bedroom window, which I managed to do while talking on the telephone to firstly Mirinda and then to mum so I could apologise for leaving our conversation off yesterday’s blog entry. Mirinda was working from the flat today so I caught the 10:30 train then hopped on the Jubilee Line and was with her by 12 and we went for a lovely walk around Mill Quay.

Last night I finished Last night on Twisted River and, after memorably talking to mum and dad yesterday morning, and enthusing about The World According to Garp, a book which I haven’t read for more years than I can count up to, I bought a second-hand copy, which I started reading on the train. It was like embracing an old friend, though, fortunately, I had forgotten the minutiae of detail and therefore was rewarded with it all over again.

Back in my previous life as an actor, I had the great (mis)fortune to play Canon Pennefather in the adaptation of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile which, for its onstage and for no reason I can think of, was called Murder on the Nile. In the book (and the numerous films) Hercule Poirot is the detective who uncovers the murderer (as he makes a habit of doing) however, in the play it is the aforementioned Canon.

I obtained the role by accident and, seriously, not by design. The priest was supposed to be old and doddery but of sharp mind and great deductive prowess – well, he’d have to be to be as good as that brilliant little Belgian, wouldn’t he? Of course I was neither old nor doddery but, if memory serves me right, the original had to be replaced and I was in the right (wrong) place at the right (wrong) time. It was not my finest hour although I rather enjoyed playing ‘ham’ games with Elise.

For those unaware of the plot (can this possibly be?), the group is aboard a boat, cruising the sights, sounds and smells of the Nile, when someone is murdered and someone else is shot. Naturally Pennefather (Poirot) solves it to everyone’s satisfaction and all but the victim return home happy after a rather adventurous and surprising holiday.

The boat they take up the Nile is called The Lotus. It would be fair to say that the only piece of dialogue I remember from the play is when everyone arrives at the boat and are welcomed by a very unconvincing Egyptian (in our production anyway) who cheerfully cries “Welcome to Lotus” as each person steps aboard. It is a line that will haunt me all my days, I’m sure. Sadly, it didn’t happen today though I prayed fervently it would…which just goes to prove the inherent failure of prayer as a wish mechanism to obtain pointless favours.

You see, today we dined on the Lotus, a stationary Chinese restaurant built on what appears to be a boat, not far from the flat at Canary Wharf. It delightfully sits surrounded by very modern office buildings and faux Victorian buildings upon the waters of Mill Quay. It also serves the best Chinese food I’ve ever had. (To be fair, this is a tricky designation as I’m sure I can’t remember every Chinese meal I’ve ever had and how it compared to today so I really should amend it to the best Chinese meal I remember having, ever.) We enjoyed crispy pork, crispy lamb, super delicious steamed scallops and a chicken mushy thing wrapped in a lettuce leaf.

It is on the right in this rather dark photograph – it was a particularly dull day today!

Lotus Chinese restaurant

I then sat on a Jubilee Line train which decided it loved Bermondsey Station so much it would just sit at the platform, opening and closing its doors without rhyme or reason for about ten minutes. Annoyingly, this meant I missed the 3pm train and had to wait around Waterloo for the 3:30. Still, it also meant I could read more Garp.

When I arrived in Farnham, the rain started and, as I look out the study window in the rapidly darkening sky, it is raining even heavier.

Here’s a photo of Mirinda waving goodbye to me from her balcony…she’s under the dot.

Mirinda waving under a big white dot

I left the office at about 7pm today and headed back to Charterhouse Square – a delicious 20 minutes walk away.

As I walked across the uneven cobbles of the square I looked up at my building and felt an intense pleasure at being back again after a weekend away.

This fondness for my central London pad has taken me completely by surprise. I expected to hate it – and was only driven to it by extreme stress at work and the fear I would become seriously ill (OK die) if I didn’t do something about it immediately. And it worked – after we made the decision that I would rent a flat and stay there during the week, I went out and found one the very next day, and my life was transformed.

But it is not simply because the flat is so convenient – though I can walk to both the Law School and the Business School in about 20 minutes – I simply love the flat and the building. It is a 1930’s block, in the art deco style which is one of my absolutely favourite time periods for architecture. It has a curved symmetry at the front, big windows, and lots of lovely details like curved ironwork on the banisters, art deco font on all the signs and lovely steps. I even love the way it smells – especially my corridor.

The flat itself is seriously tiny – about 12 foot by 9 foot and even that has a chunk out of it – though it does have a separate kitchen, bathroom and hallway. I have no doubt Dad would think it unliveable. But it has a big window, a black and white tiled 1930s looking bathroom (full size bath and decent shower pressure), it overlooks a quiet courtyard and not a busy street, and it is on the first floor so it is both safe and I don’t have to take the lift.

And then there are the facilities – there is a very well maintained laundry – but far more exciting is the roof terrace – 10 floors up, full of plants and tables and chairs and a wonderful view over London. I can see the Gherkin, the London Eye and St Paul’s from there. And best of all in the basement there is a small but adequate gym, a sauna, a spa bath and a beautiful pool with a good size seating area full of wicker tables and chairs. The pool room is gorgeous – all art deco with moulded ceilings and lovely stone and marble in soft pinks and yellows.

Best of all – it is the building in which Hercules Poirot lives in the Agatha Christie movies starring David Suchet (exterior shots only, his flat is far too big to fit into this building!!). Not that I knew this when I moved in – honest.

So during the week this is where I now come – walking to and from work, sometimes spending part of the work day here as it is so peaceful, catching no public transport, talking to G in the evenings, playing my guitar or going for a swim, listening to radio 4 (I have decided not to have a TV) and reading.

And that feeling of intense pleasure – almost as intense as the feeling when I return home to Farnham on a Friday night.