The cat's whiskers

Snapped this on my early morning scurry through Hampstead to catch the 7.45 bus to the railway station on my way back home. It's a familiar route, and routine.

I often see cats in this area, lounging proprietorially around the manicured front gardens of their tastefully decorated homes. Here is a typical classy Hampstead property: period detail beautifully preserved, glossy paintwork, charming floral display and of course a burglar alarm.

This house is in Flask Walk, the route that was once followed by 18th century visitors on the way to the chalybeate wells where they 'took the waters' and carried flasks of it away with them. I once saw people doing exactly that in the Spanish spa town of Lanjarón in the mountains of the Sierra Nevada. Twice a day they would walk along the main street between the baths at one ends and their hotels at the other, religiously holding their bottles of water to sip at between times.

This blip is in part a counterpoint to Guinea Pig Zero's A Corny Street which shows the facades of some very different houses - and not a cat in sight. This pampered Hampstead lady would have very different life chances there.

Nat King Cole On the Street Where You Live