December 4

We’re unlocked and out and about once more . However, we still won’t go indoors.

“The Writer” has this nightmare that he has been called up for his vaccination and goes down with Covid on his way to have the jabs, so we continue to be obsessively careful.

Our first trip was to our favourite Dean St. Town House restaurant for lunch.

They have been meticulous about the regulations throughout, using only every alternate one of the tables shown here.When we come with Tod and Trish, they let us have two tables so we can sit far enough away from our great friends to satisfy even my husband and shout intimacies to one another across the space. We ate fish and chips in the rain and cold today, unsurprisingly the only people outside, and received stares of amused wonderment from passers-by. But, oh the bliss of not having to load the dishwasher!! And, yes, I am aware what a First World complaint that is.

During our brief tour of Soho after luch in an effort to walk off about half of one chip, I noticed once again, that, despite the joyous unlocking, Berwick St., site of a food market since the eighteenth century, had only one trader throughout its entire length.

OK. it was a dreary day but there used to be at least 20 stalls here, come rain or shine.

The single remaining stall is The Soho Dairy

Robin Smith, the owner, looked cheerful enough but that was a brave face. He complains that the council increased the pitch fees for stallholders by twenty percent in the middle of July and backdated them three months, at a time when most Soho workers are working from home so there is hardly any footfall. He is convinced that the only reason the council could have behaved in this way is that they want to get rid of the market. I hope they don’t. We don’t shop there much because the truth is that the produce, particularly the fruit and veg., is of pretty variable quality but surely improving such an historic market is the solution, not getting rid of it?

June 11

  #someoneofsoho

We took another walk round Soho yesterday observing increasing signs of optimism. The sadly boarded up Dean St. Town House, one of our most favourite haunts, has become the site for an open air photographic Exhibition, #someoneofsoho, featuring portraits of local residents and workers by photographer Richard Piercy.

Kettners and Bistro 1 also provide a backdrop for his dramatic and insightful work.

Richard’s pharmacy, Zest, used to be one of the delights of living in Soho, as did Richard himself. Who needed a doctor when you had him as your pharmacist?

Today, his premises wouldn’t be much use for dispensing the Covid-19 vaccine we pray is on the way:

Richard moved out, put pharmacy behind him and turned what used to be his passionate hobby into a photographic career.

He says of this exhibition,

“It’s people who make places,”

A neighbourhood’s landscape may change, but it’s humanity that defines its character.

A deserted Soho due to the pandemic lockdown has only served to heighten this. I want to re-install some humanity and positivity back to an area I have been heavily involved in for 30 years. The people featured here are just a few of the many who contribute to the character and soul of this unique pocket of London.”

Richard Piercy

May 12

Today, I posted a letter!!!

Going out for the first time in seven weeks was quite an experience. The nearest sensation to it I have felt in my life was that of stepping from a ship onto dry land. It’s no exaggeration to say I felt not quite steady on my feet and as though I might collapse and fall. I had intended to aim for natural beauty in St. James’s Park but discovered, as a true urbanite, that what I really wanted to see were our Soho playgrounds.

The first shock was not empty streets but boarded up frontages. I had no idea the Dean St. Town House, whose staff feel like family, where I ran when evacuated from home on the day a WW11 bomb was discovered on a building site next door to our apartment, where we have spent some of our happiest, most raucous times with friends and with each other, now turns a blank face to the street along with The Groucho Club and Cote.

Dean Street Town House
The Groucho Club

Curiously, I have spent a surprising amount of my Lockdown time thinking about the brightly- painted doughnut shop that opened barely a week before we self-isolated.

Who are the owners? Will it survive? How excellent that they didn’t spell it “Donut”. We have watched so many small businesses come and go since we’ve lived here. It’s heartbreaking to see proud owners standing in the street, hands on hips, surveying their brave new world, and even more heartbreaking to know they may not have sufficient backing to survive even a lean first couple of weeks – and that was during the good times. To my relief, Doughnut Time is there, closed but with a notice on the door saying their doughnuts can be reached via Deliveroo. Maybe they’ll make it.

We’ve lost count of the number of restaurants we have seen installing many thousands of pounds-worth of gleaming kitchen equipment, only to see it torn out and tossed into skips as the new owners decide on different ovens, fridges and sinks – more thousands of pounds, for who knows how long this time.

I see hardly anyone on the streets. Occasional knots of delivery men, leaning on their pushbikes and motor bikes, gather on corners chatting and paying no attention to social distancing. I am masked and most people smile at me benignly, except for one squat man who deliberately bends down to unleash his even squatter bulldog right in front of me, hoping, I feel, to scare me. I smile at them both behind my mask.

In the windows of padlocked sex shops, once the mainstay of Soho, are reflected the patisseries and chocolate shops that have taken their place. I was sad about that gentrification once but today I’m glad to be back on Soho’s streets, whatever their character, and long to see them thronging with life again.