Gertsamtkunstwerk

Wombling the Capital Ring

I like the idea of the Capital Ring.

Wikipedia says

A strategic walking route promoted by London's 33 local councils, the Greater London Authority and Transport for London. It is called a "ring" because the route completely encircles inner and central London.

Walk London says

It’s easy to forget just how green London is — this engaging walk offers a chance to savour some of the capital’s most glorious scenery. 15 easily walked sections leave you free to enjoy it all at your own pace.

There are other similar initiatives, such as the  London Outer Orbital Path (LOOP) and the Green Chain Walk. 

We started the Capital Ring in an odd place, Crown Point, partway through Section 4: Crystal Palace to Streatham. That is a great stroll:

...then comes a level stretch through Biggin Wood, one of the few remnants of the Great North Wood. 

A final climb in Norwood Grove leads through beautiful gardens and past the former mansion. A welcome cafe serves refreshments at Rookery Gardens, then you descend Streatham Common.

Done that several times, I don't rate the café. We saw no point in continuing to Streatham Common station for its own sake, so made our own way to  Section 5 at Tooting Bec Gardens. Somehow, we missed the Pumping Station, and then took a short stroll across a tiny corner of the vast Tooting Commons. We missed a sign or took a wrong turn in Balham and ended up in a time-warped pub on the Weir Estate, which, splendidly, was showing unedited a Manchester United v Arsenal match from 1983.

I read a blog that described Streatham to Wimbledon Park as 

I'm gutted that this leg turns out to be one of the least interesting day walks on the whole Capital Ring

so I followed his advice and decided we would recommence the Capital Ring at Section 6

This stretch from Wimbledon Park to Richmond is, however, one of the greatest day walks in the whole of Greater London, and in its entire 6.9 miles it doesn't put a foot wrong. If you only do one day of the Ring, make it this one; it really is something special.

We didn't start well. As we approached Streatham station, I calculated that we would just miss a train and have to wait almost 30 minutes for the next, so we might as well as stay on the Wimbledon-bound bus. In some ways I wasn't wrong. We arrived at Wimbledon station (Underground and Overground) only five or so minutes later than if we had waited for a train. In other ways I was very wrong. A dull tedious trundle down through heavy traffic in Tooting and down to Colliers Wood in increasing stifling conditions. But on arrival at Wimbledon, it is simple enough to get on the District Line and travel one stop to Wimbledon Park.

Wimbledon Park is a delightful suburban park which is worth a half-day visit in its own right. We visited it two years ago and enjoyed a stroll around the Boating Lake and down to the village church. The Capital Ring is designed to take you through just one part of the park and march relentlessly past the the lake, barely pausing to spy the All England Tennis club in the distance.

     

The next part of the route is through suburbia. The curiosity in looking at other people's houses soon fades. There's a limit to the number of times you can say "That building looks grim but they have a lovely view" or "Heck, they must be loaded." Even counting the Ocado vans isn't that much fun. 

 

Eventually the path reaches Putney Heath, which has quite an interesting history, and is a surprisingly wild shrub land, even if it doesn't last very long. You are soon on Wimbledon Common and approaching its famous windmill. There's a nice little museum there, worth passing quarter of an hour. And they sell Wombles, although I was not allowed to buy one. I have already written about the café, which was a disgrace. After that we ploughed on along the Capital Ring route. Unfortunately, our time at Queensmere was ruined by a party of poorly supervised pre-pubescent children. I imagine on a good day that Queensmere is a lovely tranquil place. But a party of schoolboys running wild and loud, watched by schoolgirls brought up to be passive observers, echoes round the arena and makes a restful pause or stroll impossible.

 
We walked across a golf course, which seems tastefully managed. No blot on the landscape, and golfers instructed to give way to walkers. And down through dense woodland. Dense, but not dense enough to muffle the noise of young men playing rugby in the far distance and, again, dominating public spaces to the possible detriment of everyone else not in their domineering demographic. Unpleasant.

 

I am not made for walking, at all, so it was a relief to hit Kingston Vale. This is a necessary but horrible dual carriageway section of the A3 that is very unfriendly to non-motorised road users. I was intrigued by the Pegasus crossing - only recently installed - that allows mounted horse riders to cross from stables at Richmond Park to Wimbledon Common. I was less impressed by the difficulty in finding a bus stop when I was all but fit to drop.

Fortunately, we found a bus, and it took us to Putney, where we found a pub called the Spotted Horse. I was in there about twenty years ago and don't intend to leave it that long before returning again. An extremely nice pub, lovely decor, an excellent choice of drinks - Jimmy had real ale, I had a soft drink designed for discerning adults. And, most importantly, the food was of good quality and good value for money. If I lived nearby I'd be in there a lot.

 

So, the Capital Ring. It's a very good idea in theory. It's there to encourage Londoners to walk. I know many people have got pleasure from doing the entire Ring. 

I enjoy walking, but only up to a point. I can't walk far, and especially not on paving stones and other hard surfaces. If one follows the Ring precisely, you miss out on the glory of the parks it attempts to showcase. This section was supposed to continue into Richmond Park. I have subsequently done my homework and have decided that I would be better off doing the Tamsin trail. I have bought a Cycling Traffic-Free London book - this is from Sustrans, their website contains many walking and cycling books that cover the country. This book includes a cycle tour of Wimbledon common that criss-crosses it and is a day out in itself, rather than simply skimming across one corner, as Capital Ring does.

However, I will use the Capital Ring, London Loop and Green Chain Walk, as well as Walk London's other brands- Jubilee Walkway, Jubilee Greenway, even Lea Valley, and of course the Thames Path - for hints and inspiration, but rather than attempting the journey, I will focus on the featured parks and attractions.

Other people on Capital Ring Section 6

Diamond Geezer

Stephen and Lucy

Angry Beaton

Tim Bertuchi

Kate

Darryl

Wandering Genealogist

Martin Rich

A stroll around the North East of Clapham Common

It was one of those days. I was taking the day off Sick. I was told in no uncertain terms that I would never not be sick if I don't get out and do some moderate exercise. The plan was, to walk across Tooting Commons and catch the bus back. But the sky looked ominous. I didn't want to be out, let alone walking, and I certainly didn't want to be caught in a downpour in the vast open space of Tooting with no shelter. Change of plan and bus to Clapham.

Stroke of genius, rather than get off the bus at the Underground station, as one usually does, stay on for an extra stop, traversing the Common by bus along the A3 and alighting north of North Side.

The fun is in observing the detail. Cedars Road is flanked by two glorious 19th century buildings now converted into modern 'luxury apartments' ie Yuppie Flats. I tried to take photos but the view was blocked by a constant parade of coaches and bin lorries. Instead we strolled along to Trinity Hospice. Trinity Hospice is a well-loved local institution providing skilled compassionate end-of-life care. The blue plaque is for Eminent Architect Charles Barry, who lived at the house long before it was a hospice. 

There are some very attractive houses along North Side. I pass occasionally on the bus, and very occasionally indeed on foot. I have often thought about stopping & photographing. Today was my opportunity.

 

 

 

The row is full of history.  Two new blue plaques were installed in 2011. One, by The Music Hall Guild of Great Britain and America for Marie Kendall and one by English Heritage for Graham Greene, whose The End of the Affair was partially set locally. The internet tells me there is also a blue plaque for Edvard Grieg, but I overlooked it.

Indeed, another blue plaque was actually being installed on The Chase by a man in red trousers as we walked past, so I went to have a look. And nearly fell over laughing. There was already one up to commemorate a street party held for Edward VII's Coronation. This second plaque was to commemorate a street party held for the wedding of Kate Middleton. I later saw that that particular road got BBC Dumbed-Down London News to film their Diamond Jubilee Street Party. I have to say, if the zenith of your life's achievements is organising a barbecue, I'd keep quiet about it and reflect upon the empty pointlessness of your life!

  Clapham is synonymous with the Clapham Sect, known for their tremendous work in abolishing Slavery, lead by William Wilberforce. They were Evangelical Christians within the Church of England, but their reforms were opposed by the always conservative/reactionary Church of England no doubt eager to protect its entrenched privilege of maintaining slaves on its Caribbean Plantations.

They attended Holy Trinity church. This is actually - and, at least in my experience, unusually - on the Common. The 'Trinity' in its name is lent to other local institutions not least Trinity Hospice and the ought-to-be-Michelin-starred Trinity Restaurant.

 

 

 

The Church seemed to be closed - entirely understandably - and, to be honest, it doesn't seem particularly appealing as a building, at least from the outside. Rather stupidly, I wondered what could possibly have caused damage to this plaque, stubbornly denying it was bomb damage. It was almost as if I hadn't walked past the Graham Greene plaque and mentioned 'that film we watched' which was set on Clapham Common!

From the Church we strolled along to Old Town, most famous for being a bus terminus and hard standing. Also, site of closed down toilets. I think I have forgotten more about toilets on Clapham Common than most people ever needed or wanted to know, but they are good solid brick public conveniences and could probably make a nice chic on-trend café.

Instead, we went to Nardulli's. A decent enough coffee. Remarkable neither as excellent nor poor, I would return. My ice cream boy tried a couple of scoops of their ice cream. He has returned several times. It has become a destination for him out on his bike, when I'm working, or not well enough to go out. He says it's the best he's had in this country. He says it's better even than Lab-G in Brixton. I'm happy he has ice cream places to go to in both Brixton and Clapham.

When you've lived near somewhere for a long time, you tend to take it for granted and often just see it as a transition, so it's actually nice to stroll around and look at soem of the details in just a small area.

I was intrigued by this building. Granted, I haven't searched the net exhaustively or asked a direct question of Claphamites, but I don't really know what it was.

  
Then there's the statue to Temperance. Jimmy pretended to be quite angry later that I had 'dragged him' along to look at such blasphemy.

 
While we were standing there, something very odd occurred. I think there was a drop in air-pressure but that may be the product of my post hoc imagination. But, suddenly, all the birds swarmed. There was n eerie silence. They hadn't been disturbed by a dog, a siren or a bang. But they all swarmed and sat at the top of just a couple of trees. Vaguely Hitchcockian

We walked to the bus stop as it started to drizzle. Just after we got home, it started to rain properly. And I went for a lie-down.

June 2008 and 2009

June once again proved to be not the greatest month photographically in 2008. I took several photos of a couple of my favourite tenors at the stage Door of the  Royal Opera House. But I'm not sure they'd thank me for publishing less than flattering pictures of them.

We did go for a river walk, though. Putney Bridge to Hammersmith, on the Middlesex shore.

Even so, the pictures resulting was far from the best set of Thames-side pictures I've taken:

It doesn't get better than that. And not in a good way!

June 2009 seems split equally between a family wedding, again which has no need to be on the internet, and two wonderful bike rides via Battersea Park right round the river to Barnes Bridge, although the photos seem to stop at Hammersmith. There's a fabulous trek through the forest. Great for cycling, hopeless for photos!

Many more in the London album - start at Rust bucket and press previous until you can take no more. Or have a quick look at the Battersea Park album.

 

Bistro Union

This is newly opened, and, as I write, still doesn't have a website, except for booking.

It is related to the superb Trinity down the road, although aiming at a different slice of the market. I commented to our waiter that I was expecting red gingham tablecloths - the tables are actually bare - and he commented that at Trinity they iron the tablecloths.

They run a very good Twitter account, posting photos of their current food choice, which looks so tempting. This photos is theirs, showing their barsnack menu

They've put a lot of thought into the decor and theme. Clearly designed to be a bit reminiscent of school or the 1950s, or both, but not quite.

The menus are presented in a folder which is essentially a school exercise book such as I remember from the 1970s. The water glasses are like these Gigogne ones. Ours at school were Arcoroc, but essentially the same. The dishes and plates were similar to the odds and sods that still populate mother's kitchen, dating from the late 50s and early 60s.

I noticed on the drink menu that if you wish to buy your spirits by the bottle, you can store your bottle in a locker above the bar - you keep custody of the key. Very clever, I thought. Encourages the customer to return.

The bar is at the front, and you can have the full menu as well as the bar snacks. At the back is a dining room. I think we arrived at 7pm, with twenty minutes or so it was full. A noticeably young crowd, compared to many restaurants.

We both started with mussels in cider, and were very pleased. Mussels aren't that hard to do, and handy for restaurants because they're so quick. But so many places get them wrong. These were cooked just right, juicy and succulent. Good ingredients.

 

I followed with a fish pie. This was reasonably good. It was packed with salmon, and I'm pretty certain it was farmed. It could possibly have contained a greater variety of fish, although the clam decoration was a nice touch. The mash was well done, smooth but with a crunchy top. However, the portion was far too big, even for me, and I rarely have problems tucking things away. And serving it in a metal dish was a big mistake, because it never got a proper chance to cool down to a temperature where you could eat it properly. It was, overall, veering to the slightly too salty. (Note, I have a slight aversion to salt. Note further, this does not affect my ability to enjoy eg salt-caramel, or butter sprinkled with sea salt). 

This photo adds no further info but I like it as a work of art!

Jimmy went for the catch of the day, which on that day was John Dory. He was not impressed. I don't think he'd ever had John Dory before. I'm not sure I'd even heard of it until a couple of years ago. The bones: flesh ratio isn't satisfactory. Additionally, the menu hadn't made clear he should have ordered a side dish, too. It did come with a horseradish type sauce, which he thought was horrible. He noticed the woman on the next table also abandoned her horseradish and was struggling with the bones:flesh ratio. To be honest, I'm surprised he ordered it: there were other dishes on the menu I'd have thought were more him.

We finished with pudding. Again, he chose ice-cream, and again was disappointed. He ordered three scoops, which isn't clear in this photo. Each scoop came in a separate jar. I thought that was a bit gimmicky. One was described as mint, but didn't really have a mint flavour. The others had beguiling flavour-titles, and he confirmed that they tasted all right. But he didn't rate the quality of the ice cream. I think he has finally realised - ably abetted by his new favourite place, Nardulli by Clapham Common - that if you want decent ice cream, don't order it in restaurants.

 

 

 

 

My pudding was blackcurrant jelly, shortbread and clotted cream, which, all things considered, is a perfect little pudding. Everything just right, and so beautifully presented. The shortbread was delicate and mouth-melty. the jelly was the right balance between sweet and sharp. And who can resist clotted cream?

I would go back to Bistro Union again, but I think Jimmy would need some persuading. He feels that - setting aside alcohol prices (and he only had two glasses of wine because he was driving) - it's no cheaper than Trinity. The food is aimed to be more 'cheerful', not 'fine dining' and the service was less formal - although very good.

I've looked at a few 'professional' reviews. Once you've waded through the hackneyed 'I didn't know restaurants existed south of the Thames' crap, or describing Abbeville Road as a 'backstreet', (which suggests the 'professional' critics know less than they think), they seem to concluded that there are some real strengths in the place but also some weaknesses. I hope - and assume - that as a new place, they can address the weaknesses, because, Jimmy's reaction aside, I think it has a lot of promise. And seems like a breath of fresh air.

whatiate-whaticooked

All the Food I Eat

no kitchen orphan

Mid decade June photos

I went right off photography in the spring and summer of 2004. I was on long term sick at the time. I took only a few decent photos in June that year.

I'm not entirely sure what happened in June 2005. I took many photos of a family party but they are of little interest to anyone not related and I imagine that some of the relatives would be miffed if I stuck the photos up here. A small selection are on the 'Book (for those relatives I haven't blocked on the 'Book).

I don't even have a folder for June 2006, somewhat confounding my prior assumption that June would be a photo-rich month, marking the transition from Spring into Summer.

In June 2007, we went to Trooping the Colour. I took loads of photos:

Lots more in my Trooping the Colour album

We also went on an open top bus tour of London, which, as an experience was a bit mixed, but did afford the opportunity for lots of photographs.

Lots more in my massive London album - start at Westminster Abbey and keeping pressing 'previous', until you get bored.

Then there were the perennial garden photos eg

To be honest, the best way to enjoy my garden photos is to come round and see them live. 

Nunhead Cemetery

"Perhaps the least known, but most attractive, of the great Victorian Cemeteries of London. Consecrated in 1840, it is one of the seven great Victorian cemeteries established in a ring around the outskirts of London. It contains examples of the magnificent monuments erected in memory of the most eminent citizens of the day, which contrast sharply with the small, simple headstones marking common, or public, burials. Its formal avenue of towering limes and the Gothic gloom of the original Victorian planting gives way to paths which recall the country lanes of a bygone era."

That from the Friends of Nunhead Cemetery website. Wikipedia says

Nunhead Cemetery is one of the Magnificent Seven cemeteries in London, England. It is perhaps the least famous and celebrated of them

It features in Section 11 of the Green Chain

We went in, randomly and unplanned, having spotted it as we were passing. Really very different from how I imagine cemeteries to be. What a nice place to visit, and what a lovely place to walk around. The Gothic menace from outside belies the tranquility and splendour of an overgrown nature reserve, replete with graves and mausoleums in disrepair. It was opened in 1840, but by the middle of the last century the cemetery was nearly full.  A lack of care and cash surrendered the graves to the ravages of nature and vandalism, and it was not until the early 1980s that a group emerged to champion the graveyard.

Entering from the parking layby on Linden Grove, you walk up a short drive lined with aging gravestones and monuments, including one in Braille from 1876

 

 At the end of the drive is an Anglican chapel, once obviously grandiose, now a haunting shell - it fell victim to arson in the 1970s, and was partially restored with funding from the Lottery and Southwark Council.

 

 So many interesting graves, from different eras. Interesting to think of the stories behind them. There's a Moslem section. This commemorates a Mathematician and Mother.

The story of the 2nd Walworth Scouts, drowned almost a hundred years ago is a sad tale.

 At 4am they set off and were in sight of the camp when, 2 miles off the coast, a sudden gale caught them and the boat capsized. The local lifeboat was launched and found a shocking scene. 

Due to several acts of selfless heroism ,especially by their Scoutmaster Sydney Marsh, many lives were saved. But 8 scouts and Frank Masters from the training ship Arethusa had drowned. 

1 million people watched as the coffins, draped in Union Jacks and Scouts staves entwined with flowers, passed by on their way to Nunhead Cemetery

 Copied from the Daily Express

"This was the generation that, just a couple of years after the boys' funeral, would become numbed by the deaths of millions of boys not much older, than these lads in the trenches of the First World War.

The best explanation is that these boys represented something special, the real effort that was being made at that time to make life better for boys like these, to give them the opportunities and unlock the potential that was often buried by the poverty of their families.

To have a tragedy like this happen at the very moment when they and their Scoutmaster were doing their best to make something of themselves touched the national consciousness very deeply."...

...Another family lost their 12-year-old boy, William, who was a talented scholar. His family were devastated, but their two other boys came home. They were John and Edward Beckham. If Edward had not been saved his great-grandson - England football captain David - would never have been born:

I was touched by the sight of the commonwealth War Graves. Young men - boys - who had travelled from South Africa, Australia and New Zealand to fight someone else's war.

 

I was particularly struck by Private Hovell (and the internet suggests I am not alone)

It was a pointless enough war for my English working- and middle-class ancestors and relatives. More so for the Empire descendants of Brits. But for Private Hovell - why did an 18 year old Maori boy get slaughtered in the petty squabbles of the European ruling class, who woud not normally have given him the time of day?

With thanks to @DavidUnderdown9, we can know a little more about Private Hovell.

The New Zealand (Māori) Pioneer Battalionwas first raised in 1915 and served at Gallipoli and the Western Front and largely served as pioneers. "Of these by the end of the war, 2227 Maori and 458 Pacific Islanders had served in what became known as the Maori Pioneer Battalion. Of these, 336 died on active service and 734 were wounded. Other Maori enlisted (and died) in other battalions as well."

He served at Gallipoli and disembarked in Malta on 30 September 'slightly sick' and died of thigh wounds on 20 October. He appears to have died in King George's hospital on Stamford Street. There is a conflicting report that he died en route from Gallipoli, but David says, if so, he would have been buried at sea.

NZ casualties highest as % of population of any British Empire force. With memories of Maori wars fresh, many in authority did not  want to arm and train Maori, in WWI they served as pioneers. Maori Units of the NZEF

Scarletfinders website run by very useful for understanding medical side of war

See Auckland Museum for background on Pte Hovell, and link to digitised service record. He was one of the original Native Contgt

his individual CWGC record

Kiwis and Aussies easiest to research, all their records survive and largely digitised. UK records 60-70% destroyed by Luftwaffe

looks like he lied about his age. Record states born 28/1/1895, which would have made him 20. Grave says 18 (details from family)

looks like 16/548 Charles Harry Pirika Hovell was his brother - survived with rank of Sgt, and Mentioned in Despatches. Record not dig

I don't know what he died for. I wonder if he knew what he was fighting for.

Another grave that drew my attention was Siegfried Reihl. He died in 1918 aged 21. To me, the name seems German, although perhaps no more so than the great English war poet Siegfried Sassoon, who was named for his mother's love of Wagner.

 

 

 

 

All visitors to Nunhead seem to love the grave of Calvin G Simpson, a rare actor. He seems to have appeared in an episode of The Bill.

We walked past more graves, old and new:

 

and came to an avenue of mausoeums. All of them showed signs of damage. I wondered whether it was the result of subsidence, but Jummy said they had all been broken into. Perhaps when the cemetery lay derelict, or maybe decades ago.

 

 

 

 

At the end of the circuit, close to the entrance, is the monument to the Scottish Martyrs

This is a memorial to five men, three of them English, who were imprisoned for campaigning for parliamentary reform in the late 18th century under the influence of the ideals of the French Revolution. The five were accused of sedition in a series of trials and transported to Australia in 1794 and 1795. The Wikipedia article describes the monument on Calton Hill in Edinburgh but states "In February 1852, a second Monument, initiated by Hume, to the Scottish Political Martyrs was unveiled at Nunhead Cemetery, London. This monument stands at 33 feet high."

A little more on Transpontine blog

More blogposts:

Nothing to see here

Londoneer

The delightfully dead Nunhead Cemetery is buried alive

James's posterous

the pen, the brush and the needle

London is cool

Flickr Group

June 2003

In late May 2003 my house was burgled, which was an unnerving experience. The silver lining in the cloud was that the scrote stole my basic point-and-shoot camera. I had been umming and erring for months about whether to upgrade. With my hand forced, I did. I bought a Canon G3, which almost literally changed my life. A lovely camera which unfortunately developed a mechanical problem with the zoom a couple of years ago. I replaced it with its successor, the Canon G11, which has more features but just isn't as good.

In the first month I shot a great number of photos. They are mainly of no consequence, some are pretty poor, but there are some I'm really quite fond of. Some of them I'd compose differently nowadays, but I'm not sure that would be an improvement. Sometimes raw instinct works better than thinking too deeply about theory.

We went for a walk in Dulwich Park and realised they had a fair on:

On one particularly hot Sunday, we walked from Richmond to Kew, and caught a boat back to Westminster.

Chez Bruce

Chez Bruce gets consistently high praise from both the professional critics and from normal people who pay for their meals. It's not very far from us, although easier to reach by bike than by public transport. And who wants to bike home from a nice restaurant? Even so, it's just a couple of stations along the railway line.  They do an excellent irresistible lunch offer. We had wanted to book for about 1pm or 1.30pm, but by the time we rang a week beforehand, it was either noon or the tail-end of service. So we actually arrived to an empty restaurant, where the staff apologised that they were running late and said they were still printing the menu!

I had a mixed reaction to that. On the one hand, if I'm obliged to arrive at noon, I sort of expect them to be punctual, too. But it's such a small thing to be churlish about. Far better, too, that they are still printing the day's menu, than handing you a sauce encrusted one unchanged for decades.

I started with salmon tartare with oyster, herb and grapefruit vinaigrette, avocado and crème fraîche. It seemed a bit odd to stress the contents of the vinaigrette, which wasn't really a feature of the dish, when there were all these other lovely ingredients. I have no complaints about the dish, which I think epitomised the restaurant. Very good quality food, prepared and presented with utmost skill and professionalism. I'm tempted to write 'very conservative' but that would imply 'dated', which, actually it isn't. I suppose like classic tailoring which claims to be timeless, although it isn't. There was no wow factor in the dish; all of it was good. Jimmy liked his deep fried lamb sweetbreads with sauce gribiche -  a mayonnaise with cucumber, capers and herbs.

My main course was halibut fillet with buttered spring vegetables, basil velouté and potato gnocchi. Velouté is stock thickened by a roux. (I realise everyone else knows these things, but I'm a bit clueless in the technical terms of classic French cooking; it's about time I learned!). again, absolutely perfectly cooked and presented with ingredients that were fresh and of the highest quality. I couldn't fault it. The gnocchi surprised me. It's not something I'd normally go for, having had some ghastly doughy versions from supermarket. These were closer to fondant potatoes and worked better than I expected. And the veg were just so tender. The sauce was a bigger feature than for the starter, but even so, it was more to provide a connection between the other elements than being a feature in itself. Jimmy liked his cornfed chicken with liver stuffing, tarragon relish, lemon and artichoke, his main criticism being of the unfortunate coincidence of having tarragon as a strong flavour in both starter and main.

We both finished with crème brûlée which was divine. I am somewhat of a connoisseur of this dish, and variations on it, and this was up there with the best. the best, as it happens, is mine, but this was a damn fine close second. No gimmicks, no fuss, no tarting it up. A back-to-basics burnt cream. Pity it didn't photograph as well as I had hoped.

In addition to the dishes discussed, there were several trimmings - parmesan biscuits to start with, a nice selection of fresh rolls. Some shortbread, almost as good as mine, and several chocolate truffles with coffee.

It is clear from the outset that Chez Bruce is a conservative place to dine. Conservative décor, with old-fashioned half-curtains in the window. But also conservative, restrained, appropriate, professional service, not without warmth and charm. It has a Michelin star, which I wasn't aware of when we visited. Different from such restaurants depicted on Masterchef and similar TV programmes, where creativity goes beyond innovation into fussiness - often irritatingly - and sometimes sheer lunacy. Classic food presented in a classic way. There is a modern twist, and it's subtle, not showy. At lunchtime it would compete on price alone - let alone quality - with the better chains. The evening prices seem far from eye-watering, although, like anywhere, one can only afford up to the limit of one's disposable income.

I had been anxious before that I may be inappropriately dressed, especially on a day that was no longer winter but couldn't be sure it was summer either. In the event, I was being silly. Yes, there were Wandsworth Ladies Who Lunch in their acrylic cardigans, flowery skirts and silken hair. And there were two-bottle-men of a certain age who, if they weren't wearing red trousers, ought to have been. Then there were the well-dressed parents with their ill-fitting jeans-wearing slouchy student sons. Some women who were clearly very nice and for whom the adjective 'chav' is more a statement of fact than an insult. As usual, I eventually realised that 'neat and clean and basic good manners' is all that most businesses require from customers paying their wages.

We liked it so much, we have booked to return!

Pictures from the past

I thought I'd start doing this, at least through the summer. Posting some photos from years gone by. And, as it's early June, I'll post a few from June in years gone by.  

I initially thought I would devote this blogpost to the 'pre-digital age', in other words, photos taken on film and subsequently scanned in. 

But until the mid-90s pretty much all the photos I took in June were of parties. In other words of people. Very important to me, really good memories of good times. But not that interesting to others who weren't at the parties or who don't know those in the photos. Also, I think a bit awkward to publish photos from twenty years ago of people generally being quite drunk who wouldn't know or guess those pictures would be on the internet.

I've realised that film wasn't a good medium for a clueless amateur like me to take pictures of 'things' - landscapes, cityscapes. The preview/review screen is such a wonderful tool. I've learnt a lot from putting pictures on the PC and analysing and post-processing. I'm not afraid to put pre-digital pictures on the blog - see the sidebar - but I've found, anyway, that the pictures that look best on photo-paper don't always look that good digitally. 

In June 2002, we had a staff event at the Tower of London. Pissed it down in the morning - deterred the tourists - then brightened up in time for our extended lunch break.

  

  

These photos were from two cameras ago, a very basic Fuji point-and-shoot. I took just over 20 photos for the whole day, mainly of colleagues, which, of course, I won't blog. I've recently walked past the Tower, twice, and, in due course, will blog the highlights of those walks. But I have almost 600 photos waiting to be blogged (on a highlights basis, obviously!).

My album of London photos currently contains over 500

Nonsuch

We had limited occasional access to a car and therefore I was under instructions to plan a trip out. The brief was only implied, but I understood it to be, somewhere we haven't been before, and not an epic long day. Somewhat randomly, I selected Nonsuch. Green, just outside London, and Historic. Also, I liked the name. Possibly because of the irony:

Nonsuch Palace in Surrey was perhaps the grandest of Henry VIII's building projects. Work started on 22 April 1538...Within two months the name 'Nonsuch' appears in the building accounts, so called because it was claimed there was no such palace elsewhere equal to its magnificence...

...It returned to royal hands in the 1590s, and remained royal property until 1670, when Charles II gave it to his mistress, Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine. She had it pulled down around 1682–3 and sold off the building materials to pay gambling debts.

So, there is no such Palace as Nonsuch, although there is a sizable park and an 18th century mansion, which is Grade II listed.

At the time we visited, I was mulling over my blogpost about preserving historic buildings. I was thinking along the lines of - if there had been 'listing' in the 17th century, this Nonsuch Palace would have been preserved, for the nation. I had a vision that the disappeared palace with a silly name had some mythical ethereal status, and that a visit would be akin almost to a pilgrimage. 

In the event, it was nothing of the sort. It's a local authority park that currently appears to be well maintained. But it's really rather dull. The drive out was tedious. Stuck in traffic from Tooting Bec to Colliers Wood, we eventually hit one of those strange 1930s arterial roads, each one indistinguishable from the others, with their identikit clusters of shops that have seen better days. Every drive along one seems like a ghostly reminder of an otherwise forgotten drive along a different one in times past.

As we approached the park, the locality took on a distinctly twee mock-Tudor veneer. Roads with names like 'Tudor Drive' and 'Offwiththeirhead Avenue'. An ultra-modern retirement home complex styled to look like generic Tudorbethan.

The highlight was a brief stop in a pub called The Harrow. Although part of a big pubco chain, nevertheless it was a pleasant place to stop, and although the food was, presumably, nuked straight from the freezer, I've had worse - a lot worse, and often.

We spent a short time in the formal garden at Nonsuch, but it was not memorable. Just a local authority tended garden, next to a mansion of no real significance that's let out for weddings and functions. It became clear early on that the formal gardens double as a children's play area, so we didn't linger long, and went for a stroll up the hill through open fields of little interest. I have read that there is a wide variety of bird life there, of considerable interest to many people, but only fleeting interest to me. We soon discovered that the open fields were where teenagers went to do primal scream therapy. It was a far from relaxing, restorative day out to some other local authority's municipal park and a bit of a waste of time.

 

 

I wonder whether Nonsuch Palace was worth saving for the nation? Henry VIII only visited it three times. Should the village and monastery destroyed to make way for it have been preserved, too? Perhaps the fascination with the Palace that disappeared are more important lessons to history, about the arrogance and omnipotence of a brutal King. Some historic buildings are interesting in themselves. Conversely, if we insist on saving everything that is 'historic' ie old, we continue to live in the past, arguably repeat the mistakes of the past, and become too scared to innovate in case we destroy something of little value.

The Fish Place, Battersea

We cycled past The Fish Place when we were exploring Greater Battersea. We weren't dressed for a proper restaurant, we don't like to cycle after a big meal (and wine), and we had food at home. We liked the look of the menu, though, so took a business card. 

The weather was forecast to be dull when we booked Sunday Lunch, but we didn't know it would be quite so dreary, grey, wet and depressing. The maitre d' said they had had a couple of weather-related cancellations. The restaurant was almost empty when we dined at 2pm. Consequently, of course, there was no atmosphere. I was surprised it was so empty for Sunday lunchtime; perhaps it's busier in the evening. It's a lovely riverside location, with an outside terrace, which, obviously, wasn't open in the dreich. I hope it is busy when the sun shines, because such a good restaurant deserves to prosper, but couldn't, if two couples for late Sunday lunch is as busy as it gets.

 So, the criticism is over and done with. There's lot to praise. I like the decor, because it's clean and crisp and reflects its riverside location. The tableware was clinical. An overall impression of sleekness and attention to detail. My slight hesitation is that it may look dated fairly quickly - it's been open a couple of years. I tend to prefer a more relaxed or quirky decor - I've been to lovely restaurants with bicycles or plastic crabbing buckets suspended from the ceilings. But it's relaxing and unfussy.

 

I started with a Crab tortellini in a seafood bisque. A generous portion for a starter. A good balance of flavours - the strong flavour of the bisque not too strong to bury the crab; the pasta sufficiently thin and cooked just right.

We were then presented with an elderflower sorbet. I gather from the internet that they usually  present a sorbet in between courses. It seemed a quaint tradition I remember being quite widespread twenty years ago. I have subsequently been to more places offering an inter-course palette cleanser. Perhaps it is back on-trend. It was just the trick. Also, Jimmy normally hates sorbet because they are usually too acidic. This was an exception that he appreciated. We made a mental note. Elderflower sorbet - cleanses the palette.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My main course arrived. It was wild sea bass with clam risotto. It was a perfectly satisfactory dish. As you can see from the photo it was beautifully presented. Under the fish is potato and, if I recall correctly, spinach. The yellow, which doesn't photograph well, is buerre blanc, which is lovely. I'm not sure what to conclude about a dish such as this, which is a faultless preparation and presentation of good ingredients intelligently designed, but, really, not that memorable. That's actually, for me, pretty high praise, but it does seem conservative. And, ultimately,  I'm pretty sure that without the photo and without Twitter I would have quite forgotten it. 

Jimmy had roast beef with trimmings, including Yorkshire pudding. The Yorkshire was done perfectly; the beef was obviously a good cut, roasted perfectly (not like a boiled beef he had recently for a Sunday 'roast'). Indeed, I think he ruled it the best roast dinner he's had for a very long time!

We also liked the plates and briefly considered stealing them. We lack very large dinner plates at home and end up cramming stuff onto out-of-fashion plates I got in the 90s. Obviously, we don't steal plates from restaurants!

After a suitable pause, we both ordered chocolate fondant with Madagascan Vanilla ice cream. The ice cream met Jimmy's exacting standard, although I felt I'd had better. The chocolate fondant was exceptional, with a strong taste of - presumably - good quality chocolate, and a deliciously oozing centre, as it should be. 

I think the Fish Place has a lot going for it. The process for getting us seated and settled seemed over-fussy, and I was slightly nervous that under-occupied staff would want our company in an empty restaurant to ease their boredom. But this didn't happen - they were highly professional.

Miraculously, the sun broke through the clouds, and there was an increase in activity on the river and its bank. I would imagine that, on a nicer day, a window or terrace seat would provide endless variety. 

Unless you live near by, or happen to have a helicopter you can land at the heliport next door, it's not that easy to get to. A bit of a walk from Clapham Junction and across the busy York Road. York Road is well enough served by buses, but we found it a tedious trawl down through heavy traffic from Queenstown Rd, less so when returning. I guess the best way to reach is via the Thames Path. We will definite return on another occasion.

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