It was a book, naturally, that made me fall in love with London. "Black Hearts In Battersea" by Joan Aiken. I was maybe 9?
I mean, I knew England existed by then. Of course. But that was the turning point. It'll always be one of my favorites. I still own a couple copies. If I see it used, I pick it up. So I can pass it on to a friend if I need to.
They paint pictures, those stories. They form an idea in your head of what places look like. & you k now your imagination won't have proper geography or what you think a word might mean. I was befuddled by 'waistcoat' for years (we'd call that a vest here).
But if my head I see bridges and rivers and old warehouses turned to pubs and buskers and street markets and stray animals and schemers. And some of that isn't too far off.
I'll take the book with me. I might even stay in Battersea if I can find a spot. For sure I'll get a picture on an obliging bridge. And raise a pint to Joan. And to Simon & Sophie & Dido & all those painters & students & fighters & even the royals & the tales she told.
Because she created a world I've been in love with for 40 years. And I know it's not real. But I think I'll see a glimpse of it.
