Yesterday I braved my fear of heights and went up into the loft. Amongst other things, I brought down a box of old photos which I am hoping will keep the blog occupied whilst I get over my assignment-induced post-traumatic stress disorder.
These photos were taken when I was in my mid to late twenties. We (Finkywink & I) lived in Clapton, just off the Murder Mile, overlooking the River Lea and Walthamstow Marshes. I used to walk this pair up the river in the direction of Hertfordshire, towards Walthamstow across lammas land and down to Hackney Marshes’ zillion football pitches with no bother at all. It was the best place I have ever lived for fantastic dog-walking on the doorstep.
This photo was taken when I had come back from some trip or another, they were pleased to see me, and were due a big walk.
*advance excuse for apparent habitual wearing of hiking boots*
There used to be this advert in the 90s that had a tagline about relaxing in the Kingdom of Leather and in my sister’s flat, when we’d had a few drinks, we used to nominate the person we’d most like to do that with on any given night. I can’t remember getting any more imaginative than Lenny Kravitz.
This was good, because he was, and still is to the best of my knowledge, a bit of a short arse and being recumbent wouldn’t be as troublesome as my towering over his dreadlocked stunted self.
This song is one of Lenny’s best.