Alexandra Shulman’s London letter
So would you tackle a knifeman on your street?
SPURRED on by so many tales of food poverty, I set off last week to deliver supplies to my local food bank. But I was prevented from reaching it by a police cordon across the road. Like other passers-by, I stopped to watch the many squad cars and officers going about their business, wondering what had happened. As I turned for home, I recalled another crime scene on my street the previous day and left thinking just how ubiquitous they seem to have become in my neck of the woods.
A few hours later, news broke of the horrendous murder of Yasmin Chkaifi by her former husband Leon McCaskre and the brave actions of a man (known only as Abraham) who drove his car into the couple, killing McCaskre in an attempt to stop the relentless stabbing. That was the tragedy taking place behind the cordon just before I reached it. Ludicrously, the driver is now being investigated on suspicion of murder.
The area where the murder happened is lively and multicultural, with an occasional street market just a few yards away and a pedestrianised concourse where locals congregate to drink and chat. The streets are filled with small flat conversions and housing association tenancies – quite a contrast to the expensive stucco villas of Maida Vale nearby.
It’s not a particularly safe area of London, but I’ve never felt remotely nervous walking about because there are usually so many people around.
Yet that was the case when Yasmin was attacked. Although a few witnesses attempted to help, McCaskre’s threats with a knife kept them away.
I’d have liked to think I would have tried to intervene, but I’m pretty sure I would have been too terrified. Violent crime is a part of city life. In this case, it was a targeted attack on a woman by a man she lived in fear of, and on whom she had taken out a restraining order. But many crimes are more random. You can just be in the wrong place at the wrong time and encounter the wrong person.
It’s often reassuring to think we are protected from harm by the presence of other people.
But the reality is that it’s much easier to look the other way – and much rarer for someone, like the driver of that car, to be brave and resourceful enough to intervene in a life-threatening attack.
Childfree beats being childless
ARE you childless or childfree? Official UK figures show most women now don’t have their first child until they are over 30.
But there’s a big difference between the two words we could use to describe them. Traditionally, being childless is a cause for sadness – a condition that should be remedied as soon as possible. But increasingly the more celebratory term childfree is becoming the norm. It implies putting off the moment when the fun stops and the hard work of parenting begins.
I remember spending an awful weekend in my early 30s with a group of smug people around the same age who had all produced babies while I was childless. They clearly thought I was a sad specimen.
In a similar situation now I would be considered childfree – which sounds much more enjoyable.
Snow way! It’s even falling in Greece
THERE’S been snow this week in the most unlikely of places: Jerusalem, South Carolina, Greece. But not a single flake here. I’m longing for it. Waking up to see the world outside carpeted in white is one of the great treats – and one I’m beginning to fear my grandchildren may never experience here in London.
Why do I feel guilty for drinking alone?
AS THE partner of a non-drinker, ordering wine in restaurants is always tricky. Not the grape, but the quantity. I know I will drink more than a glass but a bottle would be far too much. Single glasses are always the most expensive option, so when I see the word carafe (smaller than a bottle) on the menu, I generally jump at it.
The waiter duly brings the carafe with two glasses, which is when I reveal it’ll be me alone drinking and begin to feel pointlessly guilty about it. I always sense their disapproval, but really it’s only me projecting my own disapproval of myself on to someone else. After all, why should they care?
Lofty ambitions for our empty stores
VISITING a spacious warehouse conversion the other day, it dawned on me that the idea of turning defunct department stores into residential properties is brilliant. Most of the available old warehouses have already been repurposed, so the huge empty stores would be a modern-day replacement.
The early loft conversions were best, with their big open-plan rooms, high ceilings, wooden floors and original windows. Later ones have been mucked up by carving up the space into too many rooms and lowering the ceiling.
Hopefully if developers get their hands on these retail spaces, they won’t make the mistake.
Although they might have a struggle with natural light, as department stores are so vast that windows are in short supply.
Even so, a large apartment in an old John Lewis in the centre of town? Bring it on.
Meredith deserved her glossy send-off
THE joint memorial service for magazine journalist Meredith Etherington-Smith and her husband Jeremy Pilcher was a clan gathering of the glossy magazine world from the 1980s on. There were wonderful tributes and a splendid turnout, including many people I hadn’t seen in decades. There were also a number of people I knew that I knew, but couldn’t remember who they were. It reminded me of someone who approached me recently with the question: ‘Didn’t you used to be someone?’
With friends like Prince Andrew…
PRINCE Andrew declares he is not a ‘close friend’ of Ghislaine Maxwell despite being photographed in her company on numerous occasions and hosting her at Sandringham. Maybe he thinks their relationship fell into the ‘just a friend’ category. Or perhaps he regards her as an ‘acquaintance’. Whatever the case, he’s certainly trying to put distance between them now. When is a friend not a friend? It’s a question we might all ask from time to time.