Our base is 5 miles from the center of the city, in the north London neighborhood of Crouch End. The name, derived from Middle English, means more or less the “outlying cross” or “cross at parish end.” Crouch End is at the junction of four important roads. Initially a cross marked this intersection, replaced in 1895 with a clock tower that still stands and is about two blocks from our house.

At the end of the 18th century, Crouch End was home to wealthy merchants who wanted to live in a cleaner environment than what crowded London offered. Prosperous suburbanites lived here in the 19th century. After WWII, Crouch End’s fortunes declined and big houses became bedsits. I can see how our five bedroom house would have filled that function, with two or three bedroom/sitting rooms on each floor sharing a common bathroom. In the 1980’s, Crouch End again became a middle class community when multi-unit student digs were sold to single families.

Supposedly, during its hippie-dippy days, Bob Dylan recorded in Crouch End at the invitation of Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics. Writer Stephen King wrote a horror story about Crouch End after getting lost on his way to dine with a friend. (“There are still strange occurrences in Crouch End, and …very occasionally, people are known to ‘…lose their way. Some lose their way forever.'”) Laurel and Hardy performed here, and Marcel Duchamp drank in Crouch End. So far, we are still standing, sober and aiming to leave unscathed on August 1.

Scenes from the neighborhood: