Sense of place

Prompt for once, autumn arrived today with teen temperatures, glowing clouds, and wild winds that knocked down trees and hence hydro wires. Not in Seaton Village ie my side of Bathurst, though we had a power off/ power on blip. But the Annex, ie the other side of Bathurst, was out for a couple of hours. Because I am an Old, child of two Olders born before WW1, I say serve them right, because the Annex properly stops at Spadina, and everything west of there is the west Annex. But cachet hunters must have their cachet so now the Annex runs from Bathurst to Avenue Rd, where it turns into Yorkville and the Mink Mile. People who shop in the latter locations live in the grand Edwardian buildings of Annex proper, when they don't live in the 6 million dollar condos of the Mile and Yorkville itself. Long long ago, in my childhood, Yorkville was the haunt of artists looking for cheap lodgings, and afterwards, in the 60s, was taken over by hippies and coffee houses and folk musicians. It is now the property of millionaires and billionaires and is no longer a place of any sort of miracles and wonder.

One must have one's tablet handy when reading Gladys Mitchell in paper form, and  when reading on the tablet, one must have Google handy, because Mitchell is all about the place porn. Not all of her settings are googleable, being her own creation like the Caribbean island of Hombres Muertos. But as soon as Mrs. Bradley is back in England, there I am googling Tudor manor houses or Scottish standing stones so I can see for myself what she's describing. That this somehow adds depth to the text rather than being an annoying intrusion on the breathless question of 'oodunnit is down to me being a place pornographer myself.