Oymstead

“Where are you going?” the man at the bus station inquired.

“Hampstead,” I said.

“Ahmstead?” he asked.

“No, Hampstead,” I corrected.

“Whah es shay sayin’?” a driver who was standing across from us yelled out. “Oymstead?”

I’d seriously never met anyone who spoke like a character in a Dickens novel before, so this was hugely fascinating.

And a photo from my long walk today:

It looks like a postcard but I actually took it myself. If somebody could be so kind as to tell me what the building is, I’ll be grateful. I wanted to approach and find out but the lawn in front looked and smelled  like it was paved with manure. And I was wearing my new Camper shoes that I’d just bought on Oxford Street.