With Sophie at Federation Coffee, Brixton Village

One April, I visited Brixton Village - Sophie was my guide - she lived nearby, in a high ceilinged flat, overlooking Holmewood Gardens - from the bay windows in the living room, you could look down upon a small park - spring blossoms made two trees wonderful - I stared at them in the gathering darkness, at their white flowers and slender branches - a wrought iron street lamp glowed yellow just beyond the window - the polished bodywork of a parked car reflected the magical decoration -

In the morning, I'd set off with Sophie for Brixton Village - the two storied Victorian villas facing the Gardens  were well maintained - I liked their tiled pathways, bisecting tiny neat slivers of front gardens, their dark narrow bricks laid in flemish bond -

We caught a bus, taking us down Brixton Hill, past The Ritzy - we'd seen Cave of Forgotten Dreams there   the evening before - I'd loved putting on the 3D glasses - I thought I looked like Jean Luc Goddard when I was wearing them - the film was beautiful and strange - I was much taken by the albino alligators, glimpsed just before it ended -

We entered the Granville Arcade - it was still early, so the place was fairly empty - I could easily see the contents of the market stalls - there were rows of exotic fish, arranged upon crushed ice - I gaped at the glittering flying fish - the glutinous cat fish - I passed by heaps of coconuts, piled up like small severed heads for Tamerlane -

We sat in Coffee Federation - Sophie said that the place served the best coffee in London - the delicate cakes we snarfed, together with the cappuccinos, cost two pashas' ransoms - but the coffee was amazing, and the cakes could have been offered to a Renaissance cardinal - the elegant barista had the skill of a neurosurgeon -

Privileged parents wheeled in splendid buggies - I wistfully imagined people's tribunals - outside the coffee shop I noticed shops which were like caves full of marvels - wispy, sexy, filmy dresses - antique rings - distressed wooden chairs -

We left, for South Bank, to see an art exhibition - I thought how fascinated I was by London - but how it was like a stage - set for a show which might yet end in turmoil - what thoughts were going through the heads of the people I saw with worn trackies, tired faces, just a few hundred yards away?