Ford ‘Mad Dogs‘ Brown used to walk out to the mighty Dollis to paint – and walk back to Kentish Town. To be fair I took the tube one way. I was in a gloomy apathetic mood which seemed to be shared by the people in my carriage who were mostly asleep. It may have been the unnecessary heating of course and their dreams may have been as sunny as the glossy magazines I later photographed where they had been carefully ripped and placed like votive offerings in the river echoing the colours of the Himalayan balsam and Virginia creeper on the bank.
