Houses Huge and Houses Holy

Offsprog 2 and her friend were bored transcribing.
I could hear them searching the songs the interviewees were talking about: first, Mind Your Own Business by the Delta 5, and then Morning Train (9 to 5) by Sheena Easton. I think they are finding it interesting, although one of the interviewees whispers when she's saying something she shouldn't and Offsprog 2 is finding it difficult to work out what she's saying.
I have finished re-reading the book but will have to read through the transcripts (I've got two more to do myself) before deciding what to add and where.
I had to go for a really long walk today to rinse my brain; I walked through Hadley Wood, footballer land, where the houses are massive with forbidding electronic gates and thick net curtains.
Huge and gleaming cars are parked on the brick driveways and the lawns are kept green and every-ready for the occasional visit from the homeowners, who naturally are hopping from one unfeasibly large pile of bricks to another.
Recession? Pah! Not for this lot!
There is an overall air of nastiness about the manicured gardens and mock-tudor gables. The architecture could be described as 'eff-off'; mean little security cameras peek from the eaves, and notices pinned on the gates warn of patrols and guard dogs.
Who wants to live in a prison of their own creation? Not I.
I returned via a tiny churchyard at Monken Hadley that had unusual wooden gravestones (gravewoods?) with painted inscriptions. Brambles had been allowed to grow over them and I hooked the brambles behind the wood so I could read the writing. Cream teas will be served in the Church House this Sunday, said a notice on the notice-board with a photograph of a scone upon it.
Overlapping worlds never cease to fascinate me.