There is a magic bean out of Arabia...

It's Friday, which means I get to have coffee today. Hurrah! If I cannot give up my vices entirely, I will assign them to various days of the week. Friday is coffee day. Saturday is drinking day. Sunday is... errr... lying in bed with a hangover wishing that the Refuge Temple Church across the road would stop Praising The Lord for just a little while - I mean, surely The Lord deserves a lie-in on Sunday morning like everyone else? Even my mum agrees that He must get sick of all the Hallelujahs sometimes.

I woke up early this morning and decided to go for a walk while it was still cool enough to do so. Partly this is my "get healthy" trip, wanting to stop huffing as I walk up stairs/hills (oh yeah, not helped by finding an old photo of what I used to look like when I walked 4 miles a day) and partly this is trying to stimulate the serotonin in mine own brain.

I'm starting quite gently, just puffing up Sunny Hill (man, is that a hill! Even the Sutton Loop decided to go under it rather than over or around) and then back down Wellfield Street. I had forgotten how beautiful my neighbourhood is - it was one of the reasons I bought this house in the first place. "Streatham Village" apparently, though no one calls it that except Estate Agents and The Guardian. Lots of cute little cottages, slightly older than the usual Victorian rowhouses - that's what my house must have looked like before the addition of the shopfront windows. I must get myself to the library and investigate the history of my hood. Especially with an intriguing name like "Wellfield Street" - it's a low-lying road between the two spurs of (I assume chalk) hills, so I imagine it would get a lot of seepage - perhaps even feed the River Graveney? Ah, the mind boggles...