A funny day then. Hade, Stan and I went for a walk. Out of Tooting, up through the optimistically named ‘Summerstown’ and over to Wimbledon, where we tried the new Waitrose. Exciting, eh? Rock n roll.
On the way the weather was okay. We passed a girl, twenties probably, who had a double buggy, a two year old and a young baby. We smiled, as you do. She stopped, aggressive: “Sorry, is something funny?” Woops.
Anyway, the main event on our walk (not really) came further up Plough Lane (yes, that Plough Lane) where we walked past the flats that had been built on the site of the old ground. And what did we see? Lawrie House! (pictured). I’ll be damned. They gave the bugger a block of flats. True, the road couldn’t be much less inspiring, a Curry’s, a Carpetrite, the dog track and various configurations of road, but still. A block of flats in your name. Pretty special.
Soon after we’d passed Lawrie’s house the rain came down as never before, and we had to wait in a friendly kebab shop’s thingy until it passed, before boarding a bus to get ourselves home. It was as if some higher power had seen me admiring Lawrie House and ensured that we moved on, lest something odd happen. I don’t know what that might have been, but the world moves in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?