Friday, 27 November 2009

Mortlake

Is that not a wonderful name . . . dead lake. I only know this bit of London because my book agent lives there — recent London memories of catching the train to Mortlake and staggering over to see her with various chunks of book and illustrations.
On my way to visit her this time I saw this excellent house with it black windows and sign. I might go back and ask what sort of rubber they deal in . . . and what sort of work done with horse and van.

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