This evening, instead of a Fellowship meeting, some of us went to a local Mosque, the Hyderi Islamic Centre, who were staging a play about Wahab, a Christian who had been killed while fighting on behalf of Husayn ibn Ali at the Battle of Karbala. I had never been to a Mosque before while it was "in use", and never to one in this country.
It was interesting. We went with another couple from Church, and I remembered to wear a hijab (I do have several scarves that can be worn that way) - it was a bit brightly-coloured, as most people wore black, but nobody minded that. My friend had also brought a scarf, but we noticed they had a tactful supply of spares out in the lobby in case anybody hadn't one. We were made very welcome, and given doughnuts and tea, and there was also a bright pink lassi type of drink being served. Then the menfolk went off in one direction, and we went in another, to a large cloakroom where one could leave one's coat and shoes, and then into the "women's hall".
As we were there to watch a play, we were led into the main "men's hall", where 1/3 had been coned off for the women by a divider made of low benches, and everybody crowded together. It wasn't as stuffy as you might think, because there were fans and some were switched on. Chairs were provided for us visitors, so we had a good view. It took forever for everybody to get settled and ready to start, but eventually it did.
The play itself was put on by a youth group from Leicester, and it was presented as a very radical way of presenting the story. It wasn't desperately well done, as you would expect from an amateur group, and the play itself was interspersed with scenes of a film from the same story. However, it was very interesting, as the story was new to us.
When it was over, there was a "rubbing-in" sermon, basically saying that Husayn-ibn-Ali stood for justice and equality for all, and this standard was something that people of all faiths and none should aspire to.
I suppose we Christians have always had our tradition of Mystery plays and so on - probably because we were a LOT less literate than the Muslims ever were! So we slightly take for granted that our stories can be presented in this sort of way, whereas it's new to them. In the film, it was noticeable that the face of Husayne ibn Ali was blanked out as Muslims don't "do" representations of their holy saints.
After it was over, we were led back to the women's hall and fed chicken and rice, and then we decided we had to go, and went out to the lobby where our menfolk - who had NOT eaten - were waiting for us!
Apparently the Mosque also does inter-faith meetings during Ramadan, when Jewish, Christian and Muslim leaders all get together and talk about their faith and its practices. This sounds as though it would be very interesting indeed, and I hope we get asked.
10 November 2013
01 November 2013
The Brixton Chocolate Museum
Yesterday afternoon, my daughter, her sons and I visited the Brixton chocolate museum in Ferndale Road.
First of all, Google maps is misleading - when you ask it where it is, it says it's about where St Paul's Church is, but in fact it's right down practically next door to the Bon Marché offices, so only a few minutes walk from Brixton Tube.
The upper part is a shop and café, with the museum downstairs. Not desperately interesting; there is a short video about the production of chocolate playing on a continuous loop, some posters, and some display cases containing things like miniature cars with chocolate themes, chocolate drinking cups from the ages, a "Poulain" school lunchbox and so on. Worth ten minutes, but I wouldn't go there again unless I were going for a chocolate tasting or a workshop. I rather wish I'd booked in for the special event tomorrow!
We could have had a cup of tea there, but as the Boy is at the age where you never know what he will say next, and the place only had a couple of people in there and was very quiet, we thought better of it and went to Costa instead, which was noisier! But we did buy a bar of very expensive raw chocolate with salt and cocoa nibs, which is absolutely delicious, not sweet at all.... sadly, you get what you pay for when it's chocolate and theirs, though utterly delicious, is very expensive!
First of all, Google maps is misleading - when you ask it where it is, it says it's about where St Paul's Church is, but in fact it's right down practically next door to the Bon Marché offices, so only a few minutes walk from Brixton Tube.
The upper part is a shop and café, with the museum downstairs. Not desperately interesting; there is a short video about the production of chocolate playing on a continuous loop, some posters, and some display cases containing things like miniature cars with chocolate themes, chocolate drinking cups from the ages, a "Poulain" school lunchbox and so on. Worth ten minutes, but I wouldn't go there again unless I were going for a chocolate tasting or a workshop. I rather wish I'd booked in for the special event tomorrow!
We could have had a cup of tea there, but as the Boy is at the age where you never know what he will say next, and the place only had a couple of people in there and was very quiet, we thought better of it and went to Costa instead, which was noisier! But we did buy a bar of very expensive raw chocolate with salt and cocoa nibs, which is absolutely delicious, not sweet at all.... sadly, you get what you pay for when it's chocolate and theirs, though utterly delicious, is very expensive!
22 October 2013
Overnight booze-cruise
As we hadn't been to France yet this year, we had run out of all sorts of things that we normally buy there, either because they are cheaper (coffee, wine) or difficult/imposisble to get here. And when I discovered that I could use my Tesco vouchers to get up to £30 off a Shuttle crossing, it was a bit of a no-brainer. You can stay overnight for the same price as a day-return, so we decided to do that and have a mini-break.
Due entirely to my own innumeracy, we left slightly later than we meant. The drive was not very pleasant, as it had been raining, and then the sun came out, which was in exactly the wrong place as it dazzled up from the wet road, and cars and lorries were sending up clouds of spray and the sun was catching them, too. We were thankful when it went behind a cloud again! We just made it to the crossing we were booked on - no time to go into the terminal, or even to stop in the loading queue! The train left earlier than we expected and we arrived in France at about 11:45 local time.
First stop was at the garage just off the exit, as we wanted to buy yet another holder for our satnav, the one that the Swan Whisperer bought to replace the broken original had, in its turn, broken on our way to Folkestone (yes, we do know the way; the satnav in this instance is mainly for traffic purposes - it knows when there is a mega hold-up and will send you round a quicker way, if possible). That duly bought, plus coffee, we set off cross-country to St-Omer, where we found a random restaurant to have lunch in. The SW had pork, chips and salad, and I had an omelette with chips and salad - massive amounts of chips and almost no salad, but never mind!
We drove to Arras and parked in the town square, which was very beautiful. It was, I think, rebuilt after the first war, but not sure what was destroyed in the 2nd. We were beginning to need petrol, so I cleverly programmed the Satnav to take us to a petrol station in a shopping centre en route to our hotel - last time I'd asked it where the nearest petrol station was, it had taken us to one in the opposite direction to where we had wanted to go, which was totally my fault, not its. But I thought there must be a way, and there is - you click on "Browse maps", and then "Find" and one of the options is POI en route, so you click on that to find petrol or hotels or whatever that you want. It also cleverly tells you how much of a detour, if any, it is, and then you click on "Navigate to" and it takes you there!
The hotel, however, turned out to have been a mistake. It was a Campanile - we had so loved the one we stayed at in Luxembourg last year, we thought it would be nice to stay in one again, and given the price I was able to get, it was just about worth it. But we were greeted by a very unfriendly young man at the check-in, who grunted something in French - I can usually follow well enough, but he mumbled! Eventually realised that the reception and restaurant were in a separate building from the rest of the hotel, which was a kind of barrack-block across the car park.
There was a kettle, which was nice, but no tea-bags, only sachets of instant coffee and tisanes of various kinds, and disposable cups so you could only use them once. Fortunately I had brought my own stash of teabags and our travel cups! In the bathroom there were no hand-towels, and nowhere to put your used towels - there was one hook, but it was obscured by the notice telling you to hang up your towels if you wanted to re-use them. There was no hair-dryer, either. There were no heavy curtains, only net ones and shutters (I hate shutters), and although we were not overlooked, people probably walked past. And being on the ground floor your couldn't have the window open overnight, either, and I couldn't see if there was air-conditioning or how to make it work. Not doing that again!
We ate in the hotel restaurant; the starter buffet looked a bit meh, so we ordered the plat du jour, which was blanquette de veau. Quite nice. Then we had the dessert buffet, which was lovely, and the SW had coffee.
Breakfast next morning was good, although I could have wished for a hard-boiled egg with mine. Still, bread and cheese and ham and stuff like that.... not bad!
We set off at about 09:00 and first went into the centre of Douai, being amused by how very quiet everywhere was once people had gone to work or school or wherever. The centre was okay, but we didn't linger. Instead, we drove to Cambrai.
Now, that is a lovely town! I should have liked to have done more of the tourist-walk they provide (we picked up guides from the tourist-office), but my leg isn't up to much walking. We did see the old belfry, one of the city gates and the cathedral, though. The cathedral is not the original cathedral, not built as such, so it is as small as Southwark cathedral. Apparently the original was torn down during the French revolution! And the present building was all but destroyed in both wars. Sigh....
We discovered too late, too late that it is free parking on a Monday morning! Still, that came in handy when, just as we pulled away, we saw signs for a public loo, so we were able to park again and use it before heading off to Lens.
Lens was a very disappointing town after Cambrai, so we didn't bother to linger but headed to the nearest commercial centre for shopping purposes. And bought up most of Cora.... which didn't have any harissa or buckwheat flour, so we had to go to Carrefour in Cité Europe to get those, what a hardship!
We had a rather late lunch in the local Flunch (mistake, really, as lunch was obviously Over, and they had very few choices left, although we had a very nice steak), and then it was time to head back to the coast. As I said, we popped into Carrefour and bought the last few things (and some more wine!). We had wanted to go to the Tesco there to get some wine, but it had changed hands and is now a fairly posh wine place.
We had half an hour to spare in the Eurotunnel terminal before our shuttle, which we spent eating ice-cream and relaxing, and then home.
But, tragically (well, not really, but sad, anyway) when we got there we found that somehow the rhubarb tart the SW had bought for himself, and the strawberry tarts he'd bought for me, hadn't come with us! Nor, alas, had the cream cheese.... oh well, don't know what happened, they must have been left at the checkout. But what a waste, and what a sad ending to a pleasant weekend!
Due entirely to my own innumeracy, we left slightly later than we meant. The drive was not very pleasant, as it had been raining, and then the sun came out, which was in exactly the wrong place as it dazzled up from the wet road, and cars and lorries were sending up clouds of spray and the sun was catching them, too. We were thankful when it went behind a cloud again! We just made it to the crossing we were booked on - no time to go into the terminal, or even to stop in the loading queue! The train left earlier than we expected and we arrived in France at about 11:45 local time.
First stop was at the garage just off the exit, as we wanted to buy yet another holder for our satnav, the one that the Swan Whisperer bought to replace the broken original had, in its turn, broken on our way to Folkestone (yes, we do know the way; the satnav in this instance is mainly for traffic purposes - it knows when there is a mega hold-up and will send you round a quicker way, if possible). That duly bought, plus coffee, we set off cross-country to St-Omer, where we found a random restaurant to have lunch in. The SW had pork, chips and salad, and I had an omelette with chips and salad - massive amounts of chips and almost no salad, but never mind!
We drove to Arras and parked in the town square, which was very beautiful. It was, I think, rebuilt after the first war, but not sure what was destroyed in the 2nd. We were beginning to need petrol, so I cleverly programmed the Satnav to take us to a petrol station in a shopping centre en route to our hotel - last time I'd asked it where the nearest petrol station was, it had taken us to one in the opposite direction to where we had wanted to go, which was totally my fault, not its. But I thought there must be a way, and there is - you click on "Browse maps", and then "Find" and one of the options is POI en route, so you click on that to find petrol or hotels or whatever that you want. It also cleverly tells you how much of a detour, if any, it is, and then you click on "Navigate to" and it takes you there!
The hotel, however, turned out to have been a mistake. It was a Campanile - we had so loved the one we stayed at in Luxembourg last year, we thought it would be nice to stay in one again, and given the price I was able to get, it was just about worth it. But we were greeted by a very unfriendly young man at the check-in, who grunted something in French - I can usually follow well enough, but he mumbled! Eventually realised that the reception and restaurant were in a separate building from the rest of the hotel, which was a kind of barrack-block across the car park.
There was a kettle, which was nice, but no tea-bags, only sachets of instant coffee and tisanes of various kinds, and disposable cups so you could only use them once. Fortunately I had brought my own stash of teabags and our travel cups! In the bathroom there were no hand-towels, and nowhere to put your used towels - there was one hook, but it was obscured by the notice telling you to hang up your towels if you wanted to re-use them. There was no hair-dryer, either. There were no heavy curtains, only net ones and shutters (I hate shutters), and although we were not overlooked, people probably walked past. And being on the ground floor your couldn't have the window open overnight, either, and I couldn't see if there was air-conditioning or how to make it work. Not doing that again!
We ate in the hotel restaurant; the starter buffet looked a bit meh, so we ordered the plat du jour, which was blanquette de veau. Quite nice. Then we had the dessert buffet, which was lovely, and the SW had coffee.
Breakfast next morning was good, although I could have wished for a hard-boiled egg with mine. Still, bread and cheese and ham and stuff like that.... not bad!
We set off at about 09:00 and first went into the centre of Douai, being amused by how very quiet everywhere was once people had gone to work or school or wherever. The centre was okay, but we didn't linger. Instead, we drove to Cambrai.
Now, that is a lovely town! I should have liked to have done more of the tourist-walk they provide (we picked up guides from the tourist-office), but my leg isn't up to much walking. We did see the old belfry, one of the city gates and the cathedral, though. The cathedral is not the original cathedral, not built as such, so it is as small as Southwark cathedral. Apparently the original was torn down during the French revolution! And the present building was all but destroyed in both wars. Sigh....
We discovered too late, too late that it is free parking on a Monday morning! Still, that came in handy when, just as we pulled away, we saw signs for a public loo, so we were able to park again and use it before heading off to Lens.
Lens was a very disappointing town after Cambrai, so we didn't bother to linger but headed to the nearest commercial centre for shopping purposes. And bought up most of Cora.... which didn't have any harissa or buckwheat flour, so we had to go to Carrefour in Cité Europe to get those, what a hardship!
We had a rather late lunch in the local Flunch (mistake, really, as lunch was obviously Over, and they had very few choices left, although we had a very nice steak), and then it was time to head back to the coast. As I said, we popped into Carrefour and bought the last few things (and some more wine!). We had wanted to go to the Tesco there to get some wine, but it had changed hands and is now a fairly posh wine place.
We had half an hour to spare in the Eurotunnel terminal before our shuttle, which we spent eating ice-cream and relaxing, and then home.
But, tragically (well, not really, but sad, anyway) when we got there we found that somehow the rhubarb tart the SW had bought for himself, and the strawberry tarts he'd bought for me, hadn't come with us! Nor, alas, had the cream cheese.... oh well, don't know what happened, they must have been left at the checkout. But what a waste, and what a sad ending to a pleasant weekend!
15 August 2013
Out and about with a 3-year-old
The Daughter goes on maternity leave after tomorrow, so needed to be in the office today for handover purposes. And playgroup is on holiday, so we agreed to meet at Russell Square Tube Station and I would take custody of my grandson, known to Blogland as the Boy. Just as I arrived, I had a text from the Daughter to say they were going into Prets, where she bought a sandwich and a can of soft drink for her lunch, and we decided we had time for coffee - Prets do the best babycinos I've ever seen, and they are free! The Boy loved his. And I love Pret's coffee; if I am going to buy coffee when I am out, I do like it to be Pret's.
Once we had drunk our coffee/babycinos and visited the necessary facilities, we set off. A bus down to Aldwych, a quick sit on the collapsible potty over a drain grating (him, not me, I hasten to add!), and then another bus towards Liverpool Street, but we got off just past Bank, and went wandering, down all sorts of little side streets, finding hidden gardens (useful to sit on collapsible potties on flower-beds!), statues, and all sorts of exciting ornamental railings to look at. Eventually we fetched up at Liverpool Street, and I asked the Boy whether he wanted to go straight home, or whether he would like to go to a museum. He wanted to go to the museum, so we got a bus down to the Museum of London - only two stops, but I thought we had walked quite far enough. Then we actually found a lift going up to the entrance level of the Museum, and the yellow brick road (a yellow stripe on the tarmac) led us to the entrance.
The Boy was fascinated by several very surprising things - flint hand-axes, although I'm not sure he quite understood what their purpose was. And a couple of models of Roman London; he loved the farms and the horses and "carriages" and the cows and sheep in the fields. I am not sure what he made of it all! I would have liked to have seen a display about the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens for work purposes, but it was a bit dark in there and the Boy balked. So we came out and looked at floor displays of broken crockery - even a spoon! He liked that. And quite the best was at the end, when we found a place where you could run cars and a tram on fixed lines on a road (and horse-drawn traffic, too), and you could press a button and a Tube train would go round and round, and other buttons did different things. We spent a very long time there!
Then we were hungry, so we went to Prets (a different one) and he had most of a cheese and pickle sandwich, having removed all the poisonous lettuce and tomato and onion and I had a chicken and avocado one and what was left of the Boy's, and we both drank orange juice. The Boy had very cleverly found the exit down to ground level when I couldn't see one: "Gran, Gran, there it is! I can see it! I found it!", so when he said "Can we have lunch there?" and pointed into Prets, I let him.
It isn't that far back to Liverpool Street, but I thought he was getting tired and I knew I was! So we caught a bus, and then had to queue for ages as I needed cash and there appeared to be only one working cash machine in the entire station. Anyway, we got on a train and I asked if he wanted to go all the way to Chingford and get a bus back, or go home from Walthamstow Central. He naturally wanted to go on to Chingford, and as the collapsible potty's disposable lining had to be brought into use in the train loo, it was probably just as well. The loo was lovely and clean, but no hand-washing water.
A 212 bus brought us tiredly home from Chingford, and it was lovely to collapse for an hour before the Daughter came home. Mind you, it would have been even lovelier if the Boy hadn't pooed himself - he is very good at staying dry but a lot less good at getting to the potty in time when he needs to poo. Still, once I had told him what I thought of him and cleaned him up rather more thoroughly than gently, all was forgiven and we went back downstairs and ate biscuits! He did, I didn't....
Once we had drunk our coffee/babycinos and visited the necessary facilities, we set off. A bus down to Aldwych, a quick sit on the collapsible potty over a drain grating (him, not me, I hasten to add!), and then another bus towards Liverpool Street, but we got off just past Bank, and went wandering, down all sorts of little side streets, finding hidden gardens (useful to sit on collapsible potties on flower-beds!), statues, and all sorts of exciting ornamental railings to look at. Eventually we fetched up at Liverpool Street, and I asked the Boy whether he wanted to go straight home, or whether he would like to go to a museum. He wanted to go to the museum, so we got a bus down to the Museum of London - only two stops, but I thought we had walked quite far enough. Then we actually found a lift going up to the entrance level of the Museum, and the yellow brick road (a yellow stripe on the tarmac) led us to the entrance.
The Boy was fascinated by several very surprising things - flint hand-axes, although I'm not sure he quite understood what their purpose was. And a couple of models of Roman London; he loved the farms and the horses and "carriages" and the cows and sheep in the fields. I am not sure what he made of it all! I would have liked to have seen a display about the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens for work purposes, but it was a bit dark in there and the Boy balked. So we came out and looked at floor displays of broken crockery - even a spoon! He liked that. And quite the best was at the end, when we found a place where you could run cars and a tram on fixed lines on a road (and horse-drawn traffic, too), and you could press a button and a Tube train would go round and round, and other buttons did different things. We spent a very long time there!
Then we were hungry, so we went to Prets (a different one) and he had most of a cheese and pickle sandwich, having removed all the poisonous lettuce and tomato and onion and I had a chicken and avocado one and what was left of the Boy's, and we both drank orange juice. The Boy had very cleverly found the exit down to ground level when I couldn't see one: "Gran, Gran, there it is! I can see it! I found it!", so when he said "Can we have lunch there?" and pointed into Prets, I let him.
It isn't that far back to Liverpool Street, but I thought he was getting tired and I knew I was! So we caught a bus, and then had to queue for ages as I needed cash and there appeared to be only one working cash machine in the entire station. Anyway, we got on a train and I asked if he wanted to go all the way to Chingford and get a bus back, or go home from Walthamstow Central. He naturally wanted to go on to Chingford, and as the collapsible potty's disposable lining had to be brought into use in the train loo, it was probably just as well. The loo was lovely and clean, but no hand-washing water.
A 212 bus brought us tiredly home from Chingford, and it was lovely to collapse for an hour before the Daughter came home. Mind you, it would have been even lovelier if the Boy hadn't pooed himself - he is very good at staying dry but a lot less good at getting to the potty in time when he needs to poo. Still, once I had told him what I thought of him and cleaned him up rather more thoroughly than gently, all was forgiven and we went back downstairs and ate biscuits! He did, I didn't....
01 August 2013
More than I intended!
I was not on grandmother duty today, as the Boy is on holiday, but I needed to get out of the flat, and I also needed to go to Lakeland. Our nearest Lakeland is in Westfield Stratford City, which seems quite a long way to go, but as I have free travel now, it is cheaper than shopping by post. And I never mind an excuse to buy myself some lunch.
The obvious way to go to Stratford from here - the quick way - is to get the Northern Line to London Bridge and then the Jubilee Line, but that's no fun! So I caught a 35 bus all the way to Liverpool Street station and then a "proper" train (as my grandson calls them) to Stratford.
My errand at Lakeland was quickly done, and I then treated myself to a falafel wrap at the Lebanese place, which I think has changed hands and is more expensive than it used to be, but still very nice. And then I made a mistake by going to Bubbleology and ordering a strawberry tea. I had first had a bubble tea in Hameln, which was lovely - it was a yoghurt-based drink and the "bubbles" sort of popped in your mouth, but these were huge, slimy, chewy, nasty bits of tapioca. Yuck! Not doing that again!
Because I hadn't done it last time, I decided to go on the Emirates Royal Airways cable-car across the river, so I took the DLR to Royal Victoria Docks station and went over the river on the cable-car, which was great fun, only I think I'd have liked to have been with someone. Beautiful views, only rather high.... Still, I would certainly take a visitor there, another time.
The cable-car drops you at the O2, so the next decision was how to get home from there. I could have been boring and got the Tube, but it was hot and I didn't feel like going underground, so I got a 188 bus to Surrey Quays, and then the London Underground. BIG MISTAKE - the train came at once, no waiting. I should have got off at Peckham Rye, but was actually planning to go all the way to Clapham High Street and then walk. BIG MISTAKE. No sooner had the train pulled out of Peckham Rye station than it stopped at a signal, and stayed stopped. Eventually, the driver came on the pa to tell us that there had been something dropped on the rails at Denmark Hill Station - a concrete beam, he thought - and we would have to wait while it was fixed. So we waited, and waited, and waited. Finally he came back to say the damage was more serious than had been thought, and we would have to go on to where we could reverse back to Peckham Rye. So we went about ½ mile further, and sat for another fifteen minutes or so, while the train ahead of us was brought back and joined on to ours (they must have been waiting even longer than we were, as the trains only run every 15 or 20 minutes).
Eventually we crawled back into Peckham Rye station and got out. My first port of call was McDonald's for some cold bottled water - I had had a bottle with me but it was tepid and not very refreshing - and then I decided to do my errands in the 99p shop, which didn't take long. Then a 37 bus came and took me rather slowly home, popped into Lidl (which has delicious Belgian cheese this week!) and home a good hour or more later than I would otherwise have been!
The obvious way to go to Stratford from here - the quick way - is to get the Northern Line to London Bridge and then the Jubilee Line, but that's no fun! So I caught a 35 bus all the way to Liverpool Street station and then a "proper" train (as my grandson calls them) to Stratford.
My errand at Lakeland was quickly done, and I then treated myself to a falafel wrap at the Lebanese place, which I think has changed hands and is more expensive than it used to be, but still very nice. And then I made a mistake by going to Bubbleology and ordering a strawberry tea. I had first had a bubble tea in Hameln, which was lovely - it was a yoghurt-based drink and the "bubbles" sort of popped in your mouth, but these were huge, slimy, chewy, nasty bits of tapioca. Yuck! Not doing that again!
Because I hadn't done it last time, I decided to go on the Emirates Royal Airways cable-car across the river, so I took the DLR to Royal Victoria Docks station and went over the river on the cable-car, which was great fun, only I think I'd have liked to have been with someone. Beautiful views, only rather high.... Still, I would certainly take a visitor there, another time.
The cable-car drops you at the O2, so the next decision was how to get home from there. I could have been boring and got the Tube, but it was hot and I didn't feel like going underground, so I got a 188 bus to Surrey Quays, and then the London Underground. BIG MISTAKE - the train came at once, no waiting. I should have got off at Peckham Rye, but was actually planning to go all the way to Clapham High Street and then walk. BIG MISTAKE. No sooner had the train pulled out of Peckham Rye station than it stopped at a signal, and stayed stopped. Eventually, the driver came on the pa to tell us that there had been something dropped on the rails at Denmark Hill Station - a concrete beam, he thought - and we would have to wait while it was fixed. So we waited, and waited, and waited. Finally he came back to say the damage was more serious than had been thought, and we would have to go on to where we could reverse back to Peckham Rye. So we went about ½ mile further, and sat for another fifteen minutes or so, while the train ahead of us was brought back and joined on to ours (they must have been waiting even longer than we were, as the trains only run every 15 or 20 minutes).
Eventually we crawled back into Peckham Rye station and got out. My first port of call was McDonald's for some cold bottled water - I had had a bottle with me but it was tepid and not very refreshing - and then I decided to do my errands in the 99p shop, which didn't take long. Then a 37 bus came and took me rather slowly home, popped into Lidl (which has delicious Belgian cheese this week!) and home a good hour or more later than I would otherwise have been!
20 July 2013
Bodies and roses
Last night we headed down to Brixton Village to eat; goodness, the place was heaving. There were, predictably, enormous queues at both Franco Manca and Honest Burgers, and we ended up in the Colombian café, which was less crowded. What Colombians like to eat, it appears is meat, meat and more meat - I ordered a steak which was huge, but in fact not too enormous when you got down to it, as it was very thin. And delicious! With rice and potatoes (why?) and salad which included a slice of beetroot, yuck, and avocado (yum) and fried plantain (also yum). Dr Sauvage had the veggie option, which was a huge plate of beans with salad and all the possible sides, and the Swan Whisperer had another kind of steak that had a fried egg on it and came with a tomatoey sauce. We all drank beer, and when we had finished we went to the gelato opposite for ice-cream. I've never seen that gelato without a mile long queue, and certainly there was a steady stream of people in and out while we were eating our main course. I had salted caramel ice-cream which was delicious, but was also tempted by the nocciatella and/or the pistachio, which was the dull green colour one associates with proper pistachio ice-cream, as opposed to the bright green of fake.
This morning we did not hurry to go out! However, once we were ready to go, we caught a 35 bus that takes us up through Camberwell, Walworth, the Elephant and Borough, over London Bridge and to Liverpool Street (and on to Shoreditch). We got off just after Liverpool Street and headed towards the Spitalfields Charnel House, which was open to the public today (I had found out through the splendid Ian Visits website). This was fascinating - an ancient hospital church (the 2nd in London after Barts) founded in the 11th century and persisting until dissolved by Henry VIII. The Charnel House had been built in the graveyard as a repository for bones, mostly of people who died in the famine years of the early 13th century, before the Black Death took hold. It survived because it had been lived in after the dissolution of the monasteries, and because rubble from (I think?) the Blitz and earlier redevelopment had been piled up there. Anyway, it was fascinating.
After that, Dr Sauvage said she would like to visit The George Inn, which we had passed on our way, so we caught a bus back to London Bridge station and had lunch at the George. I had a rather dry, but tasty burger and a pint, and she had fish and chips and cider. Then we walked. We wandered round Borough Market, which gets bigger and bigger, and then retraced our steps very slightly to see the remaining wall of the Bishop of Winchester's Palace. Then we walked along Bankside and found the remains of the Rose Theatre, also open to the public today, so we went in and enjoyed a film about the theatre and the modern excavations and campaign to save the remains, which I remember from when it happened (a shot of a very young Judi Dench amused me, but I probably looked that young then, too). Dr Sauvage's day was made by one of the audience apparently being someone from Downton Abbey, but I don't watch that so wouldn't know.
Anyway, we then headed back to the river and walked on past Shakespeare's Globe, the Tate Modern, the Oxo Tower, the new Blackfriars Station, the South Bank Centre (never seen it so crowded!) and nearly to the London Eye (and I am not going to link to all these places - if you don't know them, google them for yourself!), and finally ended up walking past the former County Hall to catch a 159 home from Westminster Bridge. And a much-needed cup of tea when we got in.
I don't know where the afternoon went, it seemed no time at all but it was well past 5:00 pm when we got home.
This morning we did not hurry to go out! However, once we were ready to go, we caught a 35 bus that takes us up through Camberwell, Walworth, the Elephant and Borough, over London Bridge and to Liverpool Street (and on to Shoreditch). We got off just after Liverpool Street and headed towards the Spitalfields Charnel House, which was open to the public today (I had found out through the splendid Ian Visits website). This was fascinating - an ancient hospital church (the 2nd in London after Barts) founded in the 11th century and persisting until dissolved by Henry VIII. The Charnel House had been built in the graveyard as a repository for bones, mostly of people who died in the famine years of the early 13th century, before the Black Death took hold. It survived because it had been lived in after the dissolution of the monasteries, and because rubble from (I think?) the Blitz and earlier redevelopment had been piled up there. Anyway, it was fascinating.
After that, Dr Sauvage said she would like to visit The George Inn, which we had passed on our way, so we caught a bus back to London Bridge station and had lunch at the George. I had a rather dry, but tasty burger and a pint, and she had fish and chips and cider. Then we walked. We wandered round Borough Market, which gets bigger and bigger, and then retraced our steps very slightly to see the remaining wall of the Bishop of Winchester's Palace. Then we walked along Bankside and found the remains of the Rose Theatre, also open to the public today, so we went in and enjoyed a film about the theatre and the modern excavations and campaign to save the remains, which I remember from when it happened (a shot of a very young Judi Dench amused me, but I probably looked that young then, too). Dr Sauvage's day was made by one of the audience apparently being someone from Downton Abbey, but I don't watch that so wouldn't know.
Anyway, we then headed back to the river and walked on past Shakespeare's Globe, the Tate Modern, the Oxo Tower, the new Blackfriars Station, the South Bank Centre (never seen it so crowded!) and nearly to the London Eye (and I am not going to link to all these places - if you don't know them, google them for yourself!), and finally ended up walking past the former County Hall to catch a 159 home from Westminster Bridge. And a much-needed cup of tea when we got in.
I don't know where the afternoon went, it seemed no time at all but it was well past 5:00 pm when we got home.
19 July 2013
A Tourist at Home
I have a house guest - she whose blog name is Nicole Sauvage - all the way from Macon, Georgia (which I learn that, unlike its French counterpart, is pronounced to rhyme with bacon) by way of Paris.
So last night we had a very traditional English supper: cold trout with salad, followed by summer pudding and all washed down with Pimms. Sadly the Swan Whisperer couldn't join us as he had a nasty fall at Dance Club (fuelled, I suspect, by having drunk all the Tinto de Verano before he went), and had to spend the evening in A&E having a badly cut knee dressed. He didn't reappear until nearly midnight.
And this morning after breakfast Dr Sauvage and I headed on out. We walked down into Brixton and then caught a 159 outside Lambeth Town Hall, and sat on it all the way to Paddington Basin. I wasn't very sure how we could get where we were going from there, but a very kind bus driver said that What We Needed was a no 7 from outside Paddington Station, so we walked there, and our walk took us via St Mary's Hospital which is full of paparazzi waiting for the Royal Birth. No sign of TRH, of course - if I were her, I'd have it in the wilds of Welsh Wales and tell people afterwards; after all, they no longer need the Home Secretary to come and check that it wasn't a changeling smuggled in in a warming-pan like whoever it was meant to have been. Anyway, no sign of any excitement, so we headed on to the bus stop and got on a no 7 to Russell Square.
We were a little early to meet the Daughter, so ensconced ourselves comfortably on a bench in the shade and then texted her, and she texted back in about 5 minutes to say come on over, so we did and she met us downstairs and showed us round various bits of Senate House. As Dr Sauvage so rightly commented, it looks exactly like a Fascist or Communist headquarters - wasn't it used as one in some television programme or other? I know it was used for The Day of the Triffids.
After this, we had lunch in the local Prets, which has quadrupled in size since I used to work upstairs from it, and then the Daughter had to rush back to work, so we finished our fizzy water and then caught a 91 bus down to Trafalgar Square, only we sat downstairs which was a Big Mistake as we couldn't see the entrance to the Aldwych Tram Tunnel properly, nor Bush House. We could see Somerset House, though.
We got off the bus at Charing Cross and made our way to the National Gallery. Dr Sauvage had two things she wanted to see, which were luckily almost at opposite ends of the gallery - Hogarth's Marriage a la Mode, and the Marriage at Arnolfi. So we went to the one and then wandered slowly to the other, stopping to look at whatever caught our fancy - and a great deal did! Then we wandered back by a slightly different route, and so to the gift shops where postcards were bought.
And then a potter around Trafalgar Square before heading underground again to Tooting Bec, as Dr Sauvage wanted to buy a shalwar kameez, which she duly did. I was very tempted, but persuaded myself I didn't really need one. Sadly, the sari shop is closing down soon - I bought my set there, so did my mother, and Sasha0407....
Then we caught a 355 bus home, and are now relaxing with a cup of tea before heading out to Brixton Village to get some supper. Tomorrow is another day.
So last night we had a very traditional English supper: cold trout with salad, followed by summer pudding and all washed down with Pimms. Sadly the Swan Whisperer couldn't join us as he had a nasty fall at Dance Club (fuelled, I suspect, by having drunk all the Tinto de Verano before he went), and had to spend the evening in A&E having a badly cut knee dressed. He didn't reappear until nearly midnight.
And this morning after breakfast Dr Sauvage and I headed on out. We walked down into Brixton and then caught a 159 outside Lambeth Town Hall, and sat on it all the way to Paddington Basin. I wasn't very sure how we could get where we were going from there, but a very kind bus driver said that What We Needed was a no 7 from outside Paddington Station, so we walked there, and our walk took us via St Mary's Hospital which is full of paparazzi waiting for the Royal Birth. No sign of TRH, of course - if I were her, I'd have it in the wilds of Welsh Wales and tell people afterwards; after all, they no longer need the Home Secretary to come and check that it wasn't a changeling smuggled in in a warming-pan like whoever it was meant to have been. Anyway, no sign of any excitement, so we headed on to the bus stop and got on a no 7 to Russell Square.
We were a little early to meet the Daughter, so ensconced ourselves comfortably on a bench in the shade and then texted her, and she texted back in about 5 minutes to say come on over, so we did and she met us downstairs and showed us round various bits of Senate House. As Dr Sauvage so rightly commented, it looks exactly like a Fascist or Communist headquarters - wasn't it used as one in some television programme or other? I know it was used for The Day of the Triffids.
After this, we had lunch in the local Prets, which has quadrupled in size since I used to work upstairs from it, and then the Daughter had to rush back to work, so we finished our fizzy water and then caught a 91 bus down to Trafalgar Square, only we sat downstairs which was a Big Mistake as we couldn't see the entrance to the Aldwych Tram Tunnel properly, nor Bush House. We could see Somerset House, though.
We got off the bus at Charing Cross and made our way to the National Gallery. Dr Sauvage had two things she wanted to see, which were luckily almost at opposite ends of the gallery - Hogarth's Marriage a la Mode, and the Marriage at Arnolfi. So we went to the one and then wandered slowly to the other, stopping to look at whatever caught our fancy - and a great deal did! Then we wandered back by a slightly different route, and so to the gift shops where postcards were bought.
And then a potter around Trafalgar Square before heading underground again to Tooting Bec, as Dr Sauvage wanted to buy a shalwar kameez, which she duly did. I was very tempted, but persuaded myself I didn't really need one. Sadly, the sari shop is closing down soon - I bought my set there, so did my mother, and Sasha0407....
Then we caught a 355 bus home, and are now relaxing with a cup of tea before heading out to Brixton Village to get some supper. Tomorrow is another day.
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