Little Venice to Abbey Road: Sporting and Musical Landmarks

a post from London Wlogger. it’s interesting that a few seconds by the Beatles on a crosswalk infused the spot with so much meaning?

London Wlogger

Welcome one and all 🙂 Last week my walk ended in Italian Gardens, and the theme of Italy continues as this week I start in Venice, well Little Venice! No Italian adventures just yet! I’ll then go along my favourite stretch of water, the Regent’s Canal, before going past The Liberal Jewish Synagogue and St John’s Wood Church. In between that I’ll be passing by Lord’s Cricket Ground and ending at a musical landmark, Abbey Road. So, let’s begin the journey!

mpp Little Venice to Abbey Road

Located near Paddington and Maida Vale, Little Venice is a scenic and very picturesque riverside area. Its history can be traced back to the 1810s when a pool was created where the Regent’s Canal and the Paddington arm of the Grand Junction Canal met. Back then it was known as the Paddington Broadwater.



There are a couple of accounts as to where the name ‘Little Venice’…

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The Bus Trip: New Year’s Eve



New Orleans – 12/31

Carl had arrived with a friend, Deanna, at midnight.

We assumed that Deanna was Carl’ s girlfriend.

Carl was telling us about camping on Oahu when Lar burst in and invited us to join him in the swamps.

Peter smiled, “He wants to make up.”

When we declined, he offered us the use of his car rental so we could go alone.

Lar left to get a soda and the delegates discussed his sudden change of temper.

Was this an act of friendship or did he intend to kill us out there?

We agreed to forgo the swamps for extra sleep.

We awoke to the sound of Carl screaming angrily into his phone at Deanna.

We dressed and walked to the Club Brazil via Jackson Square and the French Market.

There was another disagreement between Lar and Peter.

Lar wanted to join the line to get into the MTV party at the Hard Rock Cafe.

Peter wanted to stick to our plan and go to the Club Brazil.

The rest of the delegates stood in silence as East Germany and West Germany berated each other in German.
Carl was also arguing with Deanna who seemed smitten with Rob.

We left Lar at the Hard Rock and continued to Club Brazil.

It was New Years Eve and the crowd spilled into the streets.

Just as before, Snake’s lead singer had everyone howling.

She opened her set and we danced.

Deanna left Carl to dance with Rob and when Carl tried to get her back, she ignored him.

Carl collapsed in drunken tears on the dance floor.

Peter and I held Carl up by the arms and helped him to stand and walk outside.

This time he collapsed under a street light and sobbed.

Suddenly a cluster of middle-aged women from Argentina surrounded us.

Some of them collectively patted his face and hands while one of them pulled a used tissue out of her purse to dry his tears.

None of it worked.

Peter went back to the club to get Deanna.

She arrived with a look of annoyed compassion on her face.

“Let me take you back to the hostel.” she said.

“Carl snarled at her: “Get away from me you bitch! You don’t care about me!”

“Carl…I won’t cover for you.”

Deanna tried to help Carl stand.

He shoved her away and ran in a zigzag toward Bourbon Street.

She ran after him.

“I’m afraid he’ll hurt her.” said Peter

I agreed that we should follow them, but suggested that we hang back.

Deanna and Carl fought with each other down the one-way streets and alleys of the French Quarter, while Peter and I watched,  from what we hoped was a respectful distance.

To my surprise, we entered the gay section from the other side of Bourbon Street.

Carl crossed over.

Deanna looked at Carl from the other side and said in a tone that bordered on contempt: “I love you but I can’t cover for you anymore. Besides. You hate both of us for it!”

 Carl stretched out on the sidewalk and wept. “Please, just go away.”

 Deanna called us over.

“Take him to the hostel please. I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself!”

Carl had lain near the entrance to the bar.

Peter reached him first.

He sat and gently lifted Carl’s head and cradled  it in his lap.

RG (c) 2015-2016



The Bus Trip: Igor’s Bar, Grill and Laundromat



At 3 AM, we had breakfast at Igor’s Bar, Grill and Laundromat.

We were tired but awake.

Lar’s curly blond hair was in gorgeous disarray; he looked like a sullen angel.

He got up to throw coins into the jukebox.

“Fixing a Hole” by the Beatles played.

Lar returned to the table and closed his eyes.

“Who is this?” asked Rob.

“Four clowns from Liverpool.” Lar replied.

Rob laughed, “I recognize the accent.”

A pitcher of beer arrived.

Peter poured and proposed a toast,”To travel and to making friends all over the World!”

“Cheers!” said Rob. I smiled and raised my glass.

Lar looked at Peter with amusement and said, “And I offer another toast! To a strong and victorious Germany!”

Rob raised his glass: “We could use another war.”

Peter lowered his: “I do not toast such things.”

Lar glanced quickly at me; mischief played in his eyes.

Again, he raised his glass:

“What we did not do militarily we will do economically.”

Peter was horrified. ” Du benimmst dich wie ein dummer esel!” (You are acting like a dumb ass.)

Lar smiled: “My friend does not like to hear such things.”

“It is a bit of a drag, my friend.” Rob said to Lar. Then he turned to me: “Is it time to exhume Churchill? He might get confused and bomb Bush.”

“That’s true, “I said, trying to lighten the tone, “Lar, if you want a fascist Government, move to the United States. Our Nazis are just as vicious and even more stupid.”

Everyone but Peter laughed. He glared at Lar. “I had hoped that such things would never again be said by a German!”

This time Lar spoke in German.

“Es ist keine schande zu gewinnen.” (There is no shame in winning.)

Rob replied, “Actually there is, but let’s drop it.”

We returned to the hostel in silence.

A fifth bunk was in our dorm, occupied by an Australian named Carl.

RG 2015-2016



The Bus Trip: The Delegates

The Delegate
The Delegate from the U.S,

12/30 – New Orleans

Miguel left without saying goodbye and three new people
moved into the dorm.

Lar is 24 and from what we used to call East Germany.

He took the bunk above mine.

Peter comes from what we used to call West Germany.

He took the lower bunk across the room.

Rob is 25 and comes from Liverpool.

He bunked above Peter.

Rob called us The Delegates

“The bombing shall begin at Noon!” He said officiously

Lar fired a pencil in response. He was the delegate from Germany.

I was the American delegate; my job was to pretend I cared.

Everyone fired pencils when Rob insisted he’d never heard music by the Beatles.

We declared a truce and took a taxi to the Club Brazil on Chartres St.

I know how ya’all love that dead meat!

The band was named Snake and the music was fierce.

The lead singer dressed like Billie Holiday and sang like Janis Joplin.

She plucked a paper magnolia from her thick black hair and tossed
it to the crowd.

The crowd was ecstatic.

“Are you ready for some Snake” she laughed.

“Yes!” roared the crowd.

Someone passed her a bottle of whisky and she drank.

“Are you ready for ME?”


The band struck up and we danced.

Chartres Street
Chartres Street

Snake rocked for almost an hour.

Then the lead singer raised her hands the music stopped.

Someone gave her a lace hand fan; she took it and languidly fanned herself.

Her voice was smooth and seductive.

“Any Catholics out there?” she asked.

“YEEESS!” sang the crowd.

She gasped, batted her eyes, and fanned herself.

“I know how ya’all love that dead meat!”

“YEEESS!” Almost everyone laughed.

Lar gave her a bottle of Champagne.

She took a swig and sprayed the crowd.

“How ’bout some live meat?”

She took another swig of Champagne.

“Wanna little live meat?”


The Delegates were drenched in Champagne at the foot of the stage.

“I love you!” shouted Rob

“WE LOVE YOU!” shouted the crowd.

Crash of drums!

And we danced.

RG 2015-2016