Two leafy scenes for you.
For the first nine years of my life, my family lived in Ealing. My paternal grandparents lived just up the road from us in the house where my father had spent most of his own childhood. I found myself in the area on Sunday 14 June, as the jazz band I play in occasionally took part in a fund-raising event for a church in another part of Ealing. When we had finished playing and I had loaded my percussion instruments back in the car, I decided to take a short detour to our old road before driving the few miles home.
I walked the length of it, from the shops at one end, past my grandparents' house and on to the house which my parents had rented at the far end. Walking past our old house followed the bend of the road round into the lane that ran behind our old place. It was on the stretch of the lane that you see here that my father taught me to ride a bicycle; here that I and my early friends played in relative safety from cars when we craved a bit more space than our modest gardens allowed.
Meanwhile, in the churchyard of St Olave Hart Street, the new plants introduced some months ago are taking hold nicely, as you can see from this photograph taken in the early evening of Monday, 15 June before I left work to catch the train home.
For the first nine years of my life, my family lived in Ealing. My paternal grandparents lived just up the road from us in the house where my father had spent most of his own childhood. I found myself in the area on Sunday 14 June, as the jazz band I play in occasionally took part in a fund-raising event for a church in another part of Ealing. When we had finished playing and I had loaded my percussion instruments back in the car, I decided to take a short detour to our old road before driving the few miles home.
I walked the length of it, from the shops at one end, past my grandparents' house and on to the house which my parents had rented at the far end. Walking past our old house followed the bend of the road round into the lane that ran behind our old place. It was on the stretch of the lane that you see here that my father taught me to ride a bicycle; here that I and my early friends played in relative safety from cars when we craved a bit more space than our modest gardens allowed.
Meanwhile, in the churchyard of St Olave Hart Street, the new plants introduced some months ago are taking hold nicely, as you can see from this photograph taken in the early evening of Monday, 15 June before I left work to catch the train home.
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