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British Isles Friday: Parakeets in the Park

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Parakeets in the ParkOn a beautiful day in May, 2017 my husband and I walked through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. It’s really not that easy to tell where one ends and the other begins. We were looking for the Peter Pan statue (next week’s post) when we came across a small clearing cluttered with people holding their arms in the air, offering perches for surprisingly green birds fluttering in the air. Parakeets, and so prevalent, and with so many people standing about in their midst I stupidly assumed this must be some sort of birder club gathering. Ding dong me! I didn’t know the birds were wild and the people were just regular folks like us trying to get a better look. 


Doing a little post-trip homework I discovered the parakeets are so abundant in the park—and the inner mile they’re actually considered a bit of a nuisance by some people! I wish I’d known before the trip that all I had to do was bring a slice of apple and I could get the birds to land on me too!

I thought this wom…

Born in Britain

#11 Salisbury Road, Richmond, Surry, UK



Day Two of the A to Z blogging challenge; I'll probably be back to my more lackadaisical posting schedule when this is over but for right now I'm trying to write every day. For newbies I mostly do memoir here, much of it linked by a tenuous connection to the multiple of places I've lived over the years. I'm not telling my personal stories in order because my mind is way too disordered for that; rather as they come to me which is more, how do you say ... willy nilly. I have attempted to map out the route under the heading On the Street Where I Lived Stories. If you're a regular reader this is going to be story #1, the original of those tales. While I can't seem to get close to the correct #11 address, this is Salisbury Road, the street where I lived first of all, the street where I was born.


Born in Britain


My mother said she and my dad had itchy feet, a condition I clearly inherited.While my older brother has responded by living in a small handful of abodes, I've gone for change in a big way. Nothing, it seems, will suffice.

I was born at home in a scene straight out of Call the Midwife because that's how they did it in Britain in the 50's, a midwife sent my father downstairs to the neighbors to boil water and to get him out of my mother's hair. That all happened in 1953, just a few days before Queen Elizabeth II's coronation. I came a few days early so they lost the year's worth of free nappies but I still gained the queenly Elizabeth as my middle name. 


Not so regal was that I was born over a fish and chips shop. While I love the smell of fish and chips, I can't quite imagine being pregnant and loving that smell day in and day out.


At least that's what my mother told me when I was growing up. You know how when you're a kid you're always asking how did you and daddy meet and tell me about the time I was born? Looking back at it now, I've got to wonder how there could be both a fish and chip shop and the neighbor's flat downstairs? Did the neighbors live in the back of the shop? Were my parents friendly enough that the fish and chip shop owners kept them supplied in cod? Does that account for my love of H.Salt Esquire? 


Speaking of fish, something is fishy! I've been googling to get a handle on my birthplace and it's weirdly elusive. My birth certificates clearly states #11 Salisbury Road, Richmond but I can't get any closer to it on map quest or google than the image above. 


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