Abney Park 48x48

It was 5,500 miles from mornings in my Mustang at the beach with the palm trees. It had been an 11-hour flight, a 105-degree subway for an hour through London, then a bus to Stoke Newington. I wasn’t sure what way up was by the time we started taking a walk, to “Zombieland” as our friends' 8-year-old daughter calls it.  The street up to the gate of Abney Park was my favorite street in London. Stoke Newington High Street. There was a Costa Coffee where the girl with a long auburn braid would blush at my American accent. She had my order memorized. I watch with amusement women reacting to my husband's British accent all of the time, I always tease him about it so I made him come to the coffee shop with me to see how it feels. We had such a laugh.  There was a  small toy shop full of the best stuffed toys by Jellycat and the most amazing hand puppets, a drug store that only sold five kinds of nail polish, another coffee shop with the most amazing custard tarts - and the craft/ art suppl