I Want to Live in a Windmill… In North London

I hate to sound like the Spice Girls but ‘should I tell you want I want… what I really really want….?’

I want to live in a windmill. When people talk about joining the housing ladder it is always to buy a flat or a house.

Not me. I want a windmill. I don’t want a windmill in some obscure part of the British Isles either. I love London. My preference would be for one smack bang in the middle of a residential street in London.

I’m usually quite south London-centric so just for a change I think my ideal location would be say Queen’s Park, North London.

Oh My Days

My friend recently banned me from saying the overused London-centric phrase ‘Oh my days’, which is used to convey surprise. So when the sale completed and I got the keys to my windmill in Queens Park I wouldn’t say that.

Instead I would say ‘oh my one seventh of a week.’ You see I am very loyal to my promises especially those I make to close friends.

If you are reading this and you have aspirations to clamber the housing ladder my opinion is consider the windmill option. Everyone buys a house or a flat, be different.

When the estate agent begins to bleat about the a two bedroom flat with two ensuite bathrooms… then whinny’s about the spacious front garden of the house of your apparent dreams say nothing.

Just silently pull your chair back, stand up straight and tall like… a windmill. Then wave your arms in a circumference- like the blades of a windmill. The estate agent will know what you mean. A customer, particularly one that is buying a property is always correct.

Your partner might begin to get embarrassed and try to get you to sit down and stop spinning your arms like a windmill. Just say… ‘no love its okay’ and continue. Spin those arms my friend, spin. But I digress…

skype, text, tweet

Once I move into MY windmill, in the middle of a residential street in Queen’s Park, North London the next thing I would do is find new friends. I would get rid of my existing friends. Why?

Well I would need new friends. Friends on my wavelength.Friends that know where I am coming from.Friends that live in windmills too.

There are not too many windmills in London so I would have to go global in my search for friends. When we find one another we would email, msn, skpe, text, tweet, talk and holla at one another on a regular basis.

If I have time off and visit one of my windmill-having-friends abroad -say in italy- perhaps I would notice the paintwork is chipping or there is a damp spot on the ceiling of the windmill. I would say definitely say something, i would say ‘mama-mia’ in a souf’ london/italian accent.

After all we windmill-having-friends must keep up with the Jones’ you know. The Joneses own very well kept windmills you see.

When I returned to North London I would make a conference telephone call and sing down the phone to them. ‘bling bling….’ That is the sound of the phone ringing.

‘Hola… bonjour… nihao… g’day mate… bawoni…  da…  shalom’ That is the sound of my windmill friends from around the globe answering their phones. I would break into song ‘People of the world… spice up your windmills… every boy every girl… spice up you windmills.’

Will Smith

They in turn inspired by the emotion I put into the chorus would grab their yellow pages and they would do just that. Get their painting touched up, do up the garden, laminate the floor, replace the kitchen perhaps. Spice up their windmill.

Living in a windmill, in the middle of a residential street in Queens Park North London would be great. The windmill would have to be five minutes walk from the underground though and have great transport links. Then the location would be desirable.

I would be like the King of Queens Park.

I suppose a slight twist on the whole Fresh Prince of Bel-Air situation with actor Will Smith.

Gosh just think perhaps my path could follow the same trajectory as Will Smith’s.

In my first movie I could save the world, all from the comfort of my windmill. The movie would be called Independence Windmill.


Then I could make another movie about lots of mini windmills trying to overtake north London. I would save the people of North London of course. Folk from Enfield to Hampstead to Finsbury Park would rejoice and have swagger once more. It would be called i-windmill. That would be so cool.

Did I say I hate to sound like the Spice Girls. That was not entirely accurate. I love to sound like the Spice Girls… Especially… all of them…

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna………… I wanna, really, really, really, really, wanna, windmill…

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