The house looks quite sinister and mechanical

Janet Street-Porter's house

Sometimes I have to go to the office in the City. I hate going there, as the experience is always unpleasant (they are not nice people). Anyway, I got off the tube at Barbican and walked up a back way (mainly to delay the time of my arrival). And on the way I went past Janet Street-Porter’s house.

Janet Street-Porter is Editor of The Independent newspaper, and one of those media personalities who seem to have a strong opinion on everything. She is very tall, her hair is bright red, and she talks with an exaggerated East End accent. I have never met her, but I was once standing in the doorway to the City office talking to Marcus Horner (a very weak and vapid “rep” who used to look after some of the City clients) and he suddenly gasped “Janet Street-Porter’s just walked past!” He cried this out, as if it was a seminal moment in his life. By the time I turned round to look, there was only the usual passing stream of people, and the celebrity (if it was her) had gone.

The house looks quite sinister and mechanical. The windows are screened by ornamental bars, which make it look a bit like a fortress. The metal roof tiles look like the scales of some kind of reptile. On the impractical-looking balconies are colossal brooding stone heads, like artefacts brought from Easter Island.

The house is on a steep hill and just below it is a little public garden, always with one or two homeless people sitting on the park benches (except at lunchtimes when office workers go there to eat sandwiches).

I am always (always!) in a despondent mood when I go to the City office, anticipating yet another no-win situation. But passing Janet Street-Porter’s house usually manages to cheer me up. I don’t know why.