London, England in real time. Please excuse whatever typos may appear; I’m writing on a 13’’ Mac.
So here I am back in Marylebone, which has become London’s trendiest village.
The air is cool and blustery, bordering on cold, and the air moist, even when it’s not drizzling, which I welcome, having flown in from a too-warm-for-November Santa Barbara.
Marylebone has featured big in two phases of my life:
One: As a high school student at the American School in London. This is where, on Friday and Saturday nights, we teens would assemble in one of three pubs (The Angel Tavern, Queen’s Head and The Aristocrats), drink pints of Double Diamond bitter (vodka & lime for the gals) and party till closing (11 p.m.), after which we might decamp to someone’s flat in nearby Harley House (a “mansion block” apartment building near Regent’s Park).
The pub scene was usually preceded by dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, which, far from trendiness in 1971-73, catered mostly to Americans craving a decent cheeseburger, fries and a milk shake (or a tequila sunrise).
Two: When I ran an intelligence service for Prince Albert of Monaco, our headquarters was not in the principality, but right here in Marylebone.
Why?
We needed to be invisible. Residing outside of Monaco is what Prince Albert desired for maximum invisibility.
Sure, we had a safehouse in Monaco that served as an office, meeting place and accommodation when I and/or my British deputy were in town (frequently). But Marylebone is where I resided during this period (most of 2002-7), commuting almost weekly to Nice through Luton Airport.
My deputy’s offices were on Marylebone High Street…
…and our de facto headquarters was around the corner on Marylebone Lane: Caldesi, where many an investigation was hatched and discussed (in whispers, our backs to the wall) over a bowl of their signature linguine and a stream of cappuccini.
78 Marylebone Hight Street was the only address ever connected to the Monaco Intelligence Service.
Back then it was a Mailboxes Etc.
Today it is a restaurant.