Huttonian took advantage of his visit to the Big Smoke-no longer a good description of Lunnon, more like the Big Heat-to take the senior grand daughter to where he used to live in the sunny uplands of Muswell Hill, once the centre of the known earth. She did not seem terribly impressed, more intent on showing off cycling skills on her scooter than taking any interest in grand parental ramblings, physical and mental. One day she may be in awe of our once near neighbour, just down the road in Cranley Gardens-the notorious mass murderer Denis Neilsen to whom Ms ZK's mother used to deliver the papers on her round. (She can't remember if he took the Guardian, said to be the favourite rag of the better type of mass murderer) Mr N put away about 11 or so lads (unemployed youngsters he met when working in a Job Centre) during his stay in the top flat of the house pictured above. Not being able to bury the victims because of a fierce donkey which guarded the only nearby piece of accessible land he dismembered the corpses in situ, boiled them a bit flushed them down the loo (not the heads which he kept in a cupboard) *and was only caught after he himself at complained about the smell to the Public Health authorities.

Ms ZK having made one unsuccessful attempt to run over her proud grand father in the act of photographing her out- walked the older folk whose desperate attempt to seek refreshment from the 1870 water fountain (built by public subscription) was thwarted by the City Fathers (click on image to read blurb) who had disconnected the device to save about two pints a day of leaking water thus ensuring the dehydration of a large proportion of northern Londoners and the entire dog community which infests Highgate woods. Dogs and joggers are the most numerous specimens of creation in the woods and now the fountain is not functioning the runners have no reason to relieve bladders behind bushes , not dense enough to shield their activities (good ness knows there is no shortage of public loos) and the dogs can only crap rather than wee.

Which I suppose is something

* Enough gory details. Blog-ed  ¶ 8:05 PM