The City never sleeps and the tarmac returns never ending income to the Royal Borough that still reels from the losses of Grenfel Tower. Even on Saturday it’s £60 plus just to park on the street. The traffic wardens hide in bushes waiting to capture you. They love their job , commission related , incentivised to injure those on a day out who may have paid £27.50 already just to enter the City. That’s right enter, park for the day and then read below that’s £100. The Borough pulls in over £51m per annum from parking and pays out £36m to run the show. £15m per annum profit for charging for what is ours. That’s a good business model by any stretch of the limo.
Moving on I drove to Launceston Place where house prices start at £8m and end somewhere higher. It’s a street in Kensington, nothing special the residents pay to park and it has an ugly tower block at the end of the road. That’s not the point it’s London so if you don’t like Launceston move to the other one in Cornwall.
Feeling peckish I saw a cafe at the end of the road. I ordered a takeaway smoked salmon, lettuce and avacado sandwich. The girl serving spoke only Russian but in her broken English told me it was an open sandwich cost £10. I told her that to eat it I needed to get hold of it. Her manager like quizzically at me wondering if I had just walked out of Harrods. She offered to put another slice of sourdough on top to get hold of it. I slipped to the toilet and was then handed a tiny brown box as the charger contactless was thrust towards me. £13.50 , it was too late to protest and my Russian was poor. I hit the button and surpassed £100. I went to the car , opened the box and looked for the sandwich. 10 minutes later I found it, ate it and loved every morsel. I felt goodness draining through my body and money draining from my side. It was healthy utopia as I vowed not to come back. Lunch at Launceston, a real treat on a wet afternoon in the metropolis. I waited for my friend who was in a taxi coming from Gatwick off a not so Easy Jet flight. I thought of the traffic on the M25 and my head dulled, my brain bowed and the sourdough put me to sleep.
qbitblogger 