Gertsamtkunstwerk

A trip to the Lake District, South Norwood

Lake District name claim by South Norwood tourist group 'Bassenthwaite is the only lake in Cumbria actually called a lake'

The true Lake District? The day I wandered lonely as a cloud... in South Norwood

Residents of ‘beautiful’ South Norwood defend plan to claim Lake District title from Cumbria

Lake District urged to give up its title by South London wannabes: A self-styled “tourist board” in a run-down suburb of South London has demanded a Cumbrian authority stops calling itself the Lake District because it has a better claim to the title.

These startling news stories date from April of this year, but we had already begun our Lake District odyssey last summer. I had an idea that I should visit every park in South London. We had started our excursion at Beckenham Cemetery and Crematorium, admiring the roses, so much lovelier than the ones we had paid to see at a National Trust property the previous day. We proceeded onwards, pausing only to purchase petrol at Elmers End, and drove to South Norwood Country Park, which has a fascinating history. Unfortunately, despite being July, it was almost dark in early afternoon, and wet and miserable, so we went home, failing to enjoy the wildlife of SNCP's wetlands.

Undeterred, seven months later we went to South Norwood Lake

It is a lake, lying between South Norwood and Anerley National Rail/London Overground stations, and not too far from the famous Selhurst Park stadium, with the legendary Crystal Palace transmitter (one of them) clearly visible.

Trains run past, indeed just a couple of weeks ago, I was on a train from Streatham Hill to West Croydon, and glanced out of the window, and saw people in rowing boats or pedalos, enjoying the lake. 

On the day that we visited in February, there must have been engineering work on the main railway line, as I saw a Gatwick Express, which normally runs on rails somewhat to the west of here.

We walked all the way round the lake and reached the playing fields, which were startlingly waterlogged after an exceptionally wet winter.

I was able to conclude that this is a very nice green space for people who live locally, but I don't think it will warrant a second visit from travellers such as I, coming from afar. I wonder if every park in south London is actually worth travelling to see. 

The South Norwood Tourist Board will rename the lake in the Country Park after Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle, but I'd have to look through the website to see if they have naming plans for this lake. They are also planning guided walks of the area.

FIRST SEEING SOUTH NORWOOD COUNTRY PARK LAKE COMPARABLE TO BALBOA’S DISCOVERY OF THR PACIFIC

South Norwood Lake: A mini Oasis

Places I love, Issue 1: South Norwood Lake

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Ben's Cornish Kitchen

When we booked to stay in Marazion we did so in ignorance of the existence of Ben's Cornish Kitchen. But this restaurant is so good it's worth visiting Marazion especially to eat here. And we ate here twice.

Just the other day, Jimmy commented that there were two stand out restaurants this year, Wild Thyme in Chipping Norton, and Ben's Cornish Kitchen. We booked to go on our first Friday and decided almost immediately that we must book again for the second week. In my diary I wrote 'utterly utterly brilliant'.

Ben's is on the main road through Marazion. A fairly small downstairs room has been augmented recently by opening an upstairs, where we didn't venture. They are very clear on their website there is no dress code. The tables are set fairly well apart so it shouldn't be possible to overhear other parties' conversation. Unfortunately, on both visits we were sharing the space with a table of people who included at least one person who was either hearing-impaired or was needy of attention, which tempted me into one of my favourite pastimes - making up background stories about total strangers (see below).

Food wise, I can barely fault the place. Some dishes had a wow factor, others were merely 'very good'. When you savour outstanding food it's sometimes disappointing to taste the merely excellent. But mere nit-picking on my part! Good wine selection - the menu suggested a matched wine for each dish, a nice touch.

The waiting staff were mainly young. We had a nice conversation with a young woman who was going to an open day at Bristol University Medical School. She will have an excellent bedside manner as a doctor and she was lovely as waiting staff; nevertheless, Sixth Formers, however bright and charming, are different from experienced full-time front-of-house staff. My main criticism of Ben's was that the pre-dinner bread seemed to be rationed to one roll each. Minor niggle, I'm sure you'll agree.

On my first visit I started with Seared Falmouth Bay Scallops, new season parsnips (I'm not a parsnip fan but these were surprisingly delicious), roasted chervil root, basil and tamarind garlic. Every mouthful had a different taste.

The next week I started with Mushroom parfait, with cep custard, pine oil, hazelnut crumble, salsify twigs, parsnip bark, micro herbs and cep powder.

A very strongly flavoured sauce, with hazelnut as a strong and surprisingly effective partner to mushroom. I'm not sure I'd have it again, although that's about my individual taste, not a criticism. I wasn't entirely convinced by the vegetable crisps that were neither crisp nor chewy.

First week, my main was Roast dayboat Turbot with a warm salad of roasted squash, Newlyn crab, Lobster and chard herb salad (out of focus shot).

 

It was perfectly cooked and presented with a perfect flavour combination, and one of the best main courses I've had all year, but, ultimately, it lacked the wow factor I'd experienced with the scallop starter.

In week two, I had roasted hake fillet, Newlyn crab and Cornish Langoustine risotto, lobster and brandy bisque sauce and saffron mayonnaise. My diary records "Absolutely bloody fantastic, especially the risotto which packed a punch with its flavour"

 

The pièce de résistance was my first week dessert, somewhat of a signature dish, reportedly by Toby, Ben's brother. Curry. Yes, that's right, curry for pudding! Mango curd, spicy rice, coconut puree, spiced caramel, ginger jelly, cardamon ice cream, coriander, poppadom.

I had never previously experienced a sweet curry, but I now demand every good restaurant includes it in its repertoire. Tasted like the most exquisite curry and worked perfectly as a pudding.

I was tempted to try it again in the second week, but decided that variety is important. I opted for a cheeseboard - Helford White, Helford Blue, Comte and Ragstone's goat cheese, with 'homemade' biscuits. It was everything I expect and hope for from a cheeseboard, and just what I wanted at that point. I sort of regretted not ordering the Triple Layered chocolate brownie, pistachio milkshake, and chocolate and pistachio macaroon which was Jimmy's choice but I'm generally disappointed by chocolate brownie.

On the first visit, I decided that one party were two couples who had met prior to 'wife-swapping' - they were explaining their occupations and what had brought them to live in Cornwall (they'd ruled out Hampshire as being too close to her Mum and Dad, to gales of laughter, including on my table) yet they were happy to share a quite-pricey dinner. I was delighted I guessed her occupation correctly - doctor's receptionist.

The next party to arrive was a 70-ish man, and two women of 60ish and 50ish. I decided married couple and her lover, whom he tolerated. I was desperately disappointed when a second man arrived presumably from having parked the car. They were probably long-standing friends or relatives, with no offbeat sexual practices involved.

A middle aged couple arrived with two twenty something men - son and boyfriend, I decided, without any evidence to support or refute this. In the window was sat the token 'normal' couple. I felt I was sure I knew the man from somewhere, and, indeed the next morning he said 'Good morning' in the Town Square. I'm fairly sure we work in the same building, but one can't ever be sure in a building of 3000+ people

Do take a note of Ben Prior as an up-and-coming chef - see these accolades in the Food Magazine South West awards - runner up with Michael Caines and Nathan Outlaw to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall as Local Food Hero; Best Restaurant; and Runner-up as Best Chef. Listed by The Times as one of the Top 30 restaurants by the sea and appearing in the Waitrose Good Food Guide. A foodie blogger's view: Saffron Bunny

I probably won't return to this part of Cornwall soon - it would be nice to see scenery elsewhere - but if there was one reason to return it would be this restaurant. Outstanding. 

A Wandle in May

Train from Streatham Hill to Carshalton. A short canter down the hill, and into The Grove, the muncipal park beside Carshalton Ponds. We ignored The Ponds, and the remains of the headwaters to their south. I was soon attracted by a heron. These photos will never win a photo competition; I think to get proper wildlife pictures you need infinite patience and time, and be prepared to venture away from a popular public park.

     

This was the Sunday before May Bank Holiday, and the coldest Spring for fifty years finally seemed to be blooming.

The waterfall is always worth a photo.

We followed the Wandle Trail path out of the park. A child of 7 or 8 fell off his three-wheeled scooter at speed. Dad lectured him "Tarquin, that is exactly why you must wear your helmet on your scooter, you would have been hurt without your helmet" Tarquin (not his real name) had landed on his hands and knees, which will never be protected by a helmet. Tarquin would have been better off, more stable and less likely to fall, on a proper bicycle. Especially given that he was way past being a toddler.

We barely passed a soul as we headed to Wilderness Island. I love how the Wandle threads through densely populated residential areas.

Bluebells grow on its banks

If I had to live in a flat I'd like one beside the river. Barely a soul was about; they take for granted the river that flows below their windows feeding the mighty Thames.

The path diverts from the river to pass the railway bridge on Mill Lane, but at the far side is a beach!

 

We reach Wilderness Island. Shall we carry on and attempt to walk to London, or should we enter the island? Always enter the island.

Places have names that evoke something they are not. Wilderness Island, sandwiched between Carshalton and Croydon, a stone's throw from Hackbridge. But the name actually suits. The 'watersmeet' has been a Local Nature Reserve since 1990 with several ponds, and osier beds (osiers are willow saplings, grown for basketmaking). Throughout the history of the working river, the waters have been diverted to suit industry.

We spent nearly an hour strolling round Wilderness Island. Very little information exists about it on the web, but Bob Steel's River Wandle Companion is invaluable. Natural England has a basic listing.

It's not a place that photographs well. Nothing can quite capture the still and quiet, nor can a blog ever convey the smells and sounds of a wilderness in suburbia. We encountered very few people; those that we did were clearly enjoying the near-solitude as much as us.

       

As ever with The Wandle, alongside the nature reclaimed, is always the industry, quiet on a Sunday afternoon.

 

One moment you're practically on a residential street, the next, you're in the country

 

We walked on from Wilderness Island, over Hackbridge Road, and taking the Westerly route through to Watercress Park. We decided to call it a day and walked to the Goat pub - I don't think we'd do that again. The staff were polite and warm, and my bitter shandy tasted fine, but Jimmy's pint was iffy and some of the locals were quite scary. We finished our walk at Mitcham Junction and my tracking app measured 3.83 miles, which was just enough.

I don't know where I took these photos

 

Related articles

Rediscovering the Wandle

A Gloomy Day in Mounts Bay

We tried to make the most of the day. Big full Veggie (for me, at any rate) breakfast in Delicious in Marazion, and quite some shopping. Odds and ends you end up buying on holiday. I spotted some slippers in the window of a shop called The Rigging and ended up buying a hoodie, too. They also stock Weird Fish t-shirts, with some great punny designs eg The Prawn Ultimatum, The Rocky Horror Pilchard Show, Cod's Army (Don't Tell 'em Pike), and The Brill (You're Nicked). They made me chuckle.

Near where were staying was a little 'vintage' shop, which only opened a few hours a day. At first I had been quite sniffy, using words like 'over-priced tat'. But my eyes kept being caught by the china. I suspect that if I had unlimited funds and storage capacity I would buy lots of 'shabby chic' mismatched dainty china. It's hard to resist dust-collecting clutter.

But one piece had truly drawn my eye. So we went in, and had a look round, seeing some nostalgia-evoking items from childhood. I even found a Ladybird Book of birds, to help me learn to identify birds. We got chatting to the owner, who seemed delightful  and really quite down-to-earth. and I bought the item I had fixed my sights on.

 

Exquisitely dainty and too small to be considered 'clutter'.

I thought we should visit Porthleven. Unfortunately, the main road is on elevated ground and was extremely foggy. As we descended into Porthleven, the fog cleared but the rain was wet and miserable. It's a lovely little town, but the weather didn't do it justice and I didn't take any photos. But Jimmy bought a hoodie from the The Vault, and we had a snack in the Corner Deli. Nice but not as nice as Delicious.

On the drive back we called in at Praa Sands, and were lucky enough to catch a break in the rain. I just stood in the car park and took snapshots. Not a great day for photography.

 

Fortunately, we had a table reservation at the well-reviewed and highly recommended Ben's Cornish Kitchen to look forward to. 

See also Porthleven to Praa Sands from Ruth's Coastal Walk

Kos Boat Cruise

On the final full day of our Greek holiday, we went on a boat trip. We did it the easy way, buying from the rep in the hotel rather than at the Quayside. That way, we got transport to the harbour, and were booked on a boat aimed at English-language tourists. Our boat was filled with mainly with Brits and Dutch, and one Italian couple who were very out of place. He spent much too much time on his phone, almost certainly talking business. She was dressed impeccably - for a restaurant - even with full make-up and heels, and looked disapprovingly at British and Dutch women in our shorts and flip-flops.

The boat chugged out of the harbour and seemed to travel for miles. Nothing much to see but open sea, the occasional tourist boat and one or two islets. 

 

I put my camera away. I don't wish to labour the point, but while I love the blue of the Aegean Sea, the arid landscape does nothing for me.

Eventually we arrived at our first island. It was a slightly misleading description, for we anchored off the coast of Platti  and were encouraged to dive into the water. Off with the t-shirts and shorts, under which most people had their swimming togs. Some people dived in; I did it my way, gingerly down the ladder backwards. What utter joy! Swimming is nice. Swimming off a beach is joyful. Swimming off the back of the boat is an amazing sensation.

Sitting near us were a mother and daughter (50s/20s). What a palaver they went through so the daughter could change out of her bra and knickers into her bikini and back again, with Mother holding up a towel and glaring at anyone sitting nearby. The daughter was flat-chested and it wouldn't have looked odd if she had worn her bikini beneath her tailored blouse. Women with actual boobs were doing so under their t-shirts or beach dresses.

We were served a 'barbeque' but there was precious little - bread and tomato - for those that didn't eat meat. The meat was pork. Jimmy said it was pretty horrible, and made him yearn for the buffet at the hotel which we had otherwise become bored of.

Our next stop was Kalymnos, the Sponge Island. As we approached, we passed the island's cement works, a major source of cement for the Dodecanese. I'd read the tour leaflet, and told Jimmy, who hadn't, that we were going for a tour of the cement works. He was somewhat dismayed, so I had to tell him we weren't.

We were encouraged to visit the Sponge Factory and buy large quantities of sponge, but we took a coffee, strolled round the harbour, took another coffee, strolled some more and returned to the boat.

I thought it was a nice little town and it seemed to photograph better than I thought at the time. But it did drive home to me the futility of these trips. It's great to be out on the boat, on the open sea, getting the chance to swim. And I understand why they stop in towns. People go into cold sweats if they can't shop all day, and, more practically, it gives us access to more food and drink than the boat can provide. It seems disrespectful to local people to show such superficial interest in their culture, snap-snap, there's my photo, doesn't it look picturesque.

 

I liked the statue near the harbour , depicting different aspects of local life and myth

     

Perhaps inevitably, a statue of Poseidon was not far away.

Our final stop was Pserimos,for some off-beach swimming and to enjoy beach cafés. The strange people continued to act strangely.

The mother-and-daughter-with-towel show repeated itself, only for daughter to wade out knee deep and no further into the sea. Mother was later seen to be rinsing off the daughter's bikini - in the sea, which made no sense to me.

Meanwhile the Italian woman removed her high heels and let her feet go into the water. Suddenly, I pitied her. I couldn't tell whether she was enjoying the sensation and wanted more but didn't dare, or she felt nothing but acted a wriggle to convey the joy she had learned from other people. Meanwhile, her husband fastidiously brushed off sand that had dared to encroach onto his impeccable trousers and matching shoes.

One of our more gregarious companions engaged the barmen in conversation. At first it seemed a charming way to show interest in them but soon became clear it was a way for her to regale them with the epic story of her holiday. She and her husband were here to celebrate their thirteenth wedding anniversary. Their anniversary was in March and they had gone to Amsterdam (thus being more knowledgable about Amsterdam than Dutch people) but in September they were celebrating their anniversary - by going on holiday with her parents. (Sub text, look how loaded we are). Mother, meantime, got anxiety attacks if she wasn't shopping, and yet shopping also caused obvious stress. At least I found out who buys all that jewellery and ornaments made of shells in tourist resorts!

I couldn't quite work Pserimos out. It has a population of 130 and we saw one old boy who I imagined had lived there all his life and his ancestors for generations before. Where we landed was pretty, but had no anthropological interest. I think the buildings round the bay were holiday lets, probably for prosperous folk fondly imagining that they were living hippy alt culture for two weeks before returning to their bonus-heavy city jobs.

We sailed back to Kos town. I enjoyed the day, there really is nothing like it. Lots of fresh air, open seas, swimming, people-watching. Splendid day and a great end to an holiday which had been better than the sum of its parts and much better than I've conveyed in these blogposts. But we won't be doing All-Inclusive again any time soon. 

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Other blogposts on my Kos holiday:

A Greek Odyssey

Kos Town

Kos Coach Tour

Kos photo album

Battersea Park in winter

There had been a fair amount of snow in January, even to the extent of there being at least one 'Snow Day'. At the end of the month was an early - if false - hint of Spring. At the time this felt good. But March was harsh, and Spring seemed to be late. Actually, 'normal' not premature like many recent years. And this was good because it led to stronger and more plentiful produce.

We thought we would take a moderate stroll and, that, more or less was what we did. Simple bus journey to Battersea Park and a pleasant hour or so walking. I thought I knew Battersea Park fairly well, but everytime I visit I find something new. Partly because they have introduced new aspects but mainly because there is so much to explore.

We had the obligatory walk around the lake which was partly iced and partly thawed.

The rowing boats were beached for winter.

 The reflections in the lake didn't quite materialise into the photos I had hoped for

   

The Pumphouse, a Gallery and Venue-for-Hire loomed like an aristocrat's folly in the woods.

 

In the distance, a Barabara Hepworth

This is Single Form (Memorial), and is a replica or copy, by the artist of Single Form, her largest work, which stands in the United Nations Plaza in New York, in memory of Dag Hammarskjöld. See also Two Forms (Divided Circle), which I snapped in Dulwich Park, before it was stolen.

Closer at hand was Henry Moore's Three Standing Figures.

 Read more about Battersea Park Sculpture

More photos near the lake

The Sub-Tropical Gardens in Battersea date from 1863, but were abandoned in World War II when many  gardeners went to war and the land was turned over for much needed food production. They were recreated and reopened in 2004. Winter is not the best time to see them.

 It was only when I got home that I learned that a Winter Garden was opened in 2011. Perhaps this should be on my To-Do List this winter! According to this map it's tucked away by the Sun Gate, on Albert Bridge Road, at the furthest end from the river.

A Guardian article: The winter's tale: It is the season too often neglected but a newly planted Winter Garden in Battersea will be a beacon in the dark.

BBC News: Battersea Park unveils £150,000 winter garden

We walked to the river where all was desolate and frozen. I had never seen these installations before but I believe they've been there some time.

 Unfortunately, I made the mistake of not going back the way we'd come, so I ended up having a long and increasingly painful walk down Albert Bridge Road and Battersea Park, neither exciting nor salubrious, in order to catch our bus back home.

Just because they're not worth a blogpost of themselves, here's a couple of shots of my garden, taken 6 days previously.

 I have a small photo album dedictaed to Battersea Park

 

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Blogposts from others

Battersea Park from Girl With a Dog and Good Shoes

Battersea Park, London from Sapphire City

Battersea Park, without a Boris Bike from Sunny in London

Battersea Park from Alisha Magic

Saturday in Battersea Park from Sas Petherick

Balade dans Battersea Park (In French but Google translates it)

Battersea Park  from Karen Pas Grand-Chose (in English!)

A Walk Through Battersea Park from Ham Life

A foggy day in Penwith

If you go on holiday to West Cornwall, the law dictates you go to Land's End. 

The day started warm, followed by a brief shower. We were in no hurry to get out, needing a rest and a lie-in after several relentless days. It felt that the weather would clear up. So, Land's End it would be, thirteen miles away. No need even for SatNav. 

We turned off onto the by-road to take us to Porthcurno. Magical Porthcurno, highly recommended as one of the best beaches on Cornwall. Down narrow twisty lanes, up and down steep slopes in gathering mist. We passed the Porthcurno Telegraph Museum which was closed. It's based near where the Transatlantic submarine cables came ashore. 

As soon as we arrived in the car park, the skies opened and torrential rain fell. We waited the obligatory ten minutes in the hope that it would clear. It did, and as we got out of the car and carried out the necessary faffing that all holidaymakers do, we noticed several other car loads emerging.

I had thought we would have the beach to ourselves, but no chance - there was upwards of two dozen others. I found the sloping dry sand quite hard going. But it certainly was a lovely little beach, although I imagine it gets very crowded on hot days in high season. The weather wasn't great for photos but it was good to get the fresh air and leg stretch.

There was an interesting rock formation forming part of scramble up the cliffs to the Coastal Path. There were some walkers on the path and I suppose we could have walked round to see the legendary open air Minack Theatre.

Instead we drove on towards Lands End but the fog was not improving. It seemed a bit much to pay £5 to sit in a car park and gaze out to a foggy sea. By now I fancied some refreshment and we made the mistake of stopping in the First and Last Inn in England. I was so incensed by the mockery of a cup of tea I took to Trip Advisor to moan. I accept that one will pay higher prices in popular tourist locations, and I don't mind that if it's for a decent product. But I hate it when English tourist places can't even get a cup of tea right.

As we descended from the ridge the fog cleared but it still wasn''t a pleasant day. We parked up in Penzance and went to the The Old Lifeboat House Bistro. It was mid-afternoon and they had a sign that they were open for scones, cakes and beverages. Jimmy asked if they could do us a sandwich. Yes, they said. Which was nice of them, I thought. And sensible, business-wise. 

It was a lovely example of how to do things well. In a sense perfect. Not exceptional or outstanding but as you would really like to expect places to be - but they rarely are. Clean fresh bright surroundings. Pleasant paintings by local artists on the wall. A crab sandwich with tasty proper bread filled with the sweetest tasting crab imaginable. The tea was made with Clipper teabags in a pottery teapot, served with cups and saucers, with real milk in a pottery jug. If you use good quality teabags, such as Clipper, you don't need to use leaf tea. China pots are great for purists but I'm happy with a decent pottery one. A light late lunch I really savoured. We never went back for dinner but I would have had faith on the basis of the quality and service we received.

In the evening we went for dinner at the Victoria Inn in Perranuthnoe. A highly reviewed restaurant, and one that several locals had recommended to us, it appears in the Waitrose Good Food Guide. The chef/owner trained with Raymond Blanc and Michael Caines. Suffice to say we booked to return the next week, too. People travel a long way to eat here, and it's worth it. 

I started with tempura of fish and seafood with a coriander dipping sauce.

It's pretty easy to do, but quite difficult to do well. They did it well. Not a hint of greasiness in the batter, and the fish and seafood were fresh, tasty and beautifully cooked. The salad was good, too - crispy and flavourful. 

My main course was roast cod with champ potatoes, and, as I wrote in my diary, 'other stuff, with a creamyish sauce'.

They got it absolutely right for pub food. No compromise on the quality of ingredients, and some good flavour combinations, bringing the art of the kitchen to the plate. A chain pub could have done something broadly analogous but there would be no comparison. They didn't make the food over-fancy: there's a place for that but not in a pub. My main criticism would be that the portions were generous, leaving no room for pudding.

Other people's blogposts include: 

118 Lamorna to Porthcurno to Land’s End - she's walking the coast of Britain, and she writes well. I'll have to go back and read some more of this - especially as she's already walked most of the stretches that I know - see also 117 Perranuthnoe, Penzance to Lamorna Cove

 

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Cornwall - Seagulls, Seashells on the Seashore!

Marazion to Perranuthnoe

St Ives

Kos Coach Tour

During our All-Inclusive package holiday near Kos Town we booked a day coach trip to tour the island.

I have mixed feelings about coach trips. It is an excellent way to see the cultural highlights without having to juggle bus timetables or hire a car. But you don't have control over how long you spend at places and it's all a bit whistle-stop. 

 

On the whole it worked out well. We had an excellent and knowledgeable tour guide. The coach wasn't completely full and there was nobody entirely obnoxious. There was one elderly woman who was clearly getting drunker and drunker and more garrulous as the day went by, but she was a hoot. One slightly odd woman seemed to want to follow me around and take the same photos. 

As I have said before, the weather was much hotter than I had expected and despite drinking copious amounts of water, it did take a lot out of me. If we had been going under our own steam, it would have been even more draining.

Our first stop was the Asklepion, not far from Kos Town. One of the most important sites in Western Civilisation but I hadn't heard of it until I booked to visit Kos. It is a 'healing temple' sacred to the Greek god Asclepius. The Asklepion on Kos was probably the largest and most well-known in the ancient world, dating from 400 BC. Modern scientific evidence-based medicine has its roots here; Hippocrates worked and taught at this site. Medicine was 'systemised' . Pliny wrote that Hippocrates learned medicine by writing down the successful cures that had been recorded by patients on the walls of the temple. 

One level of the Asklepion included hydrotherapy. Our guide explained the importance to them of clean drinking water. The guide recounted a story where he had to guide a school party round. He asked the children whether  Asclepius existed, and one child, aged about 9, replied "Yes, because he exists in our heads." A profound comment.  Of course these gods exist; it was the genius of humanity to create them to serve society!

 Kos has a history of earthquakes, and the hospital is in ruins. Excavations were begun in the early years of the 20th century. Anyone who visits Kos must go to this site, with a good guide. However, you get more of a sense of space and the size of the place, and great views out to sea, then any insight into the workings of the hospital. Also, because it's built on four levels, there's a lot of stairs to climb. Those with greater mobility problems than me would not get the full experience of the site.

     

We drove into the mountains, to the touristic village of Zia that lies at the base of Mount Dikaios, the highest mountain on Kos. We visited during the day but it's a popular destination at sunset. 

The coach dropped us off in the village square.  Some people headed straight for the shops, which sell everything from the cheapest tat to local foodstuffs (eg honey) to some lovely pottery. I was tempted by tableware but I knew it would be a pain to bring home by charter flight.

We climbed up to the Orthodox church above the village - but first, coffee in a nearby restaurant. I was pleased by the photo I took of the steps but later saw other similar pictures on the web - clearly an obvious shot!

The church was highly decorated. I felt awkward. I'm not religious, and it felt odd being one of many people wandering around taking snapshots. But it's part of the tourist route, and presumably the church tolerates it as it brings money to the village. This is the point where I start to feel guilty as a relatively prosperous Western tourist bestowing my grandesse on a struggling economy. Does it feel more awkward when it's in an EU country?

 

We walked round the village, which is pretty, with magnificent views.

 

As we waited for our coach, I spotted this vintage mowing machine parked up in the village square.

 

Next stop was Pyli, in order to see a fountain. I understand why the coach tour stopped off there but it wasn't a highlight. The guide explained a rite associated with fertility - drinking from each of the taps or somesuch. One poor woman dashed round like she was desperate. I saw it as an opportunity to replenish depleted and warm water bottles!

 

We drove across the island to a beach town for lunch. Kos is said to be one of the greenest Greek islands. I've previously been to Corfu and Crete, but the scenery just doesn't grab me. The town we stopped in - whose name I forget, I didn't make contemporaneous notes - had an air of end-of-season. A few people sunbathing on the beach but not much else. Even the tourist train was parked up and seemed out of commission.

We had a decent meal in the restaurant recommended by the guide. A beau

A tale of two meals - Trinity Clapham

There is no denying that Trinity at Clapham is a superb restaurant. Adam Byatt is a really good chef. However, it is unlikely that we are ever going to return for a Sunday lunch there, and certainly not when Adam is travelling in the Far East.

We went just about a year ago. I really liked my food. I didn't note down the precise details of what I ate, fondly thinking that photographs alone would jog my memory.

 

I started with a delightful wild mushroom concoction. 

I say started but I had already demolished an amuse-bouche and quite a bit of their incomparable sourdough bread and home-churned butter made out of Jersey milk.

My main course was also a pleasure to the taste. I'm pretty sure this is hake, served with cockles,

I finished with a deconstructed Black Forest Gateau, which was full of good strong tastes.

Jimmy didn't rate his roast beef. It was supposed to be an expensive cut, but he wasn't convinced. It was stringy to chew, and difficult to cut. He recognises that places generally serve beef pink, but this wasn't so much 'pink' as cold in the uncooked parts. He left half of it.

There was an unfortunate incident involving some other customers which I didn't think was the restaurant's fault. Somehow, some wine got spilled onto someone's lap and the blame was attributed to the waiter walking past. Admittedly I didn't see it happen, but I felt that it was a group of people who want to create a fault in order to bully the restaurant into giving them freebies. I also sensed the restaurant staff knew this, too, but their hands were tied. We were coming to the end our meal, and also sensed we would help them a lot if we could leave our table, so they could combine it with the next, empty one to re-seat the complaining guests.

But worst of all was the coming-together of the Clapham Yummy Mummies. They behaved as if they never went out, barking, braying and boasting in loud voices, as if they needed to impress. Who? Why? How - it takes more than that to impress me. And to cap it all, they had a baby with them, under a year old. The baby was sick. And we had to endure the rest of our meal in an odour of baby sick. Maybe the Clapham mummies regularly spend £65 a head on dinner, but we don't, and we don't like to eat in the atmosphere of baby sick.

However, we did go back for the New Year's Eve tasting menu, and that was the right decision. There were several children at the early evening sitting, but they were children who had been brought up to appreciate a good restaurant, to sit up at table, and not run around, whose parents had the novel idea of conversing with the children, and not at them - exactly the sort of fellow diners you should expect at a fairly pricey quality restaurant.

The food was exquisite, and very little to criticise. We did have to wait a while for our first course. We were offered amuse-bouches soon after arrival, and were also kept supplied with a plentiful supply of the above-mentioned sourdough bread, freshly baked, which, perhaps unsurprisingly, proved to be my downfall.

Before booking I had checked with the restaurant and it was no bother to accommodate my non-meat tastes into the set tasting menu. I think they also had a vegetarian alternative. We decided to go wild and accept their recommendation of a glass of matched wine with each course, although some of our fellow diners, perhaps sensibly, opted for a bottle or two to last the length of the meal. 

A tasting menu suits the restaurant perfectly. They know exactly how many to make of each dish and they can keep turning them out, almost like a production line. I think it works well for a busy evening like New Year's Eve. I started with a Roast white onion soup with truffle and curds, while Jimmy had Consommé of roast chicken and morels. My matching wine was Anjou Domain Rene Mosse Blanc from the Loire. I liked how they brought the bowls to the table pre-filled with solid and elegantly poured the soup round it. I'm a sucker for eating-as-theatre!

We both had Orkney Scallop Ceviche, with Rosehip Pickle and Charred Cucumber. We both judged this to be the star of the show. We both love scallops anyway, and these were a class apart. We teamed this with an Argentinian:  Alamos Torrontes.

The next course was also identical for meat-eaters and non-meat eaters alike. The accompanying wine was a South African Chardonnay, Hamilton Russell. I'm not a great Chardonnay fan because so much mediocre stuff is sold for the mass market. However, this was very quaffable and went well with the Gnocchi Parisienne, Cauliflower, Truffle and Parmesan

Not at all a good photo but I don't like to use flash in restaurants so am dependent on ambient lighting. If I'm in a hurry to take the photo - usually one shot and then eat, especially if it's a hot course - I might move. And I was probably halfway drunk by this point.

I followed with Seabass, Pumpkin, Chanterelles matched with another decent Chardonnay - Toques et Clochers "Haute-Vallée" from Limoux. Jimmy had Salt-crusted partridge, artichoke and roast chestnuts.

This was probably my least favourite course. Everything tasted fresh and was cooked very well, but I didn't think the overall combination particularly worked.

We were approaching the home straight, with Black Forest, served with a Moscatel  - Lustau Emilín.

The finale to the meal was Truffle baked Vacherin Mont d'or, with Savagnin, Domaine Daniel Dugois from Arbois. I am one of these people who usually takes an awful long time to realise that I am full and so carries on eating. But by this point I knew I was full and didn't get to fully appreciate the Vacherin. It almost hurt to put it in my mouth, which was a pity. I was well stuffed!

I'd do the tasting menu again, with the matched wines, as long as I didn't have to get up the enxt morning. But I would definitely eat a lot less ovenfresh sourdough bread.

Previous blogpost on Trinity

Some other people's blogposts (some more pretentious than others)

Trinity Clapham – British cooking done right! - Motley Spicer

Trinity, Clapham Common - Last Friday Night

Trinity, Clapham - TwelvePointFivePercent

Second Restaurant review – Trinity, Clapham. Michelin star or not??? (I’ll be the judge) - Alexsfood

Lost Gardens of Heligan

The name 'Lost Gardens' attracted me the first time I heard it, several years ago. I watched a documentary on the TV 2 or 3 years ago and was fascinated. It was very much on my list of Must Dos, and, it turned out, other than the journeys to and from home, was our furthest trip from base (from which you can gather, we didn't do The Eden Project).

Wikipedia says:

Before the First World War the garden required the services of 22 gardeners to maintain it, but that war lead to the deaths of...16 of those gardeners, and by 1916 the garden was being looked after by only 8 men. In the 1920s Jack Tremayne's love of Italy led him to set up permanent home there, and lease out Heligan. The house was tenanted for most of the 20th century, used by the US Army during the Second World War, and then converted into flats and sold, without the gardens, in the 1970s. Against this background, the gardens fell into a serious state of neglect, and were lost to sight.

It's quite shocking to think of so much land laying waste. Many landowners talk of their holdings as something held in trust, they are mere custodians. Some are conscientious in fulfilling this duty; for others, it's little more than a slogan because they know their ancestors got hold of the land unfairly. After the Second World War, productive land was in short supply as Britain aimed for greater food self-sufficiency and turned to intensive farming. Perhaps this land was less than ideal for farming, and we holiday-makers are the fortunate present day beneficiaries, but neglecting the land for so long was a crime against the community.

A tip to future visitors: the website says approach the Gardens from St Austell. They are absolutely right. I thought I knew better and allowed Tom Tom to guide us down the narrowest of tiny country lanes. We left via St Austell.

The public gardens are divided into broad areas - the Jungle and the Northern Gardens. In my diary I wrote "I don't see a great deal of benefit in me describing in detail everything of the four hours we spent walking around...I took about a hundred photos". A picture tells a thousand words!

The Jungle is green and dense. When you walk around, you feel the change in the atmosphere - it has its own micro-climate.

 The visual glory is in the three dimensions. There are four interlinked ponds, descending down the Valley, with a boardwalk around them. Signs recommend sturdy footwear, but, nevertheless, there were a few people - all young - in fashion footwear, heels and so on. Their choice and their risk, but they didn't seem to be enjoying themselves, and one held everyone else up as she teetered slowly along a footpath, held up by her partner, and blocking the path for people in both directions. I don't understand the thought process that begins with "Let's go to a thousand acre garden set on a hillside" and ends with "...wearing disco shoes". The Jungle also isn't suitable for pushchairs or wheelchairs.

First we walked past the wildflower meadow, a visual delight, and one providing views to the coast at Mevagissey.

  

I took a few photos in The Jungle but I find that dense green areas generally don't make for exciting photos.

 


As we were leaving The Jungle, a schoolparty was arriving. I support 'Learning by Play' and think that much of the Primary School curriculum should involve activity, outdoors where possible. Letting 30 or so 8 year olds run through a paid visitor attraction screaming at the top of their voices is not educational. There are playgrounds for screaming; in a garden, children should be encouraged to stop and look, take in the atmosphere, and show respect for other people - the world doesn't revolve around them just because they're children.

Our next stop was the tea-room in the Steward's House. There are two catering facilities at Heligan: one near the ticket office and shop, and one conveniently placed in the centre. It was a bit basic - tea served in polystyrene cups - but the tea was decent and it was worth a stop to look at the prints on the wall of traditional rural crafts. The tea room was set in beautiful if unexceptional gardens.

 

Next stop was the orchard. I have read about orchards in books. I have seen commercial orchards on TV and when driving past. But it's only recently I have realised what a domestic orchard is; I will have one in my hypothetical post-Lottery win rural retreat.Trees laden with fruit, and a variety of waterfowl around the pond, obligingly posing for photographs.

We spent the rest of our stay strolling around the Northern Gardens. The guidebook divides them into Pleasure Grounds and Productive Gardens. The flower gardens were magnificent to behold.

 

I am still quite useless at identifying flowers (see also: birds and trees) and although I am learning slowly, it's difficult. I certainly won't be insulted if better people than me pop helpful hints into the comments box.

The Productive Gardens were just as beautiful in their own way. I envy people who had so much space to grow their own - although back in the heyday they would have employed a sizeable staff to do the growing, and more again to do the bottling and preserving.

     

Jimmy pointed out to me the difference between the shapes of Conference and Comice pears. I had never previously given it much thought!

I enjoyed this piece of garden sculpture.

We walked in some of the wilder areas nearer the formal gardens and found tranquility in quiet places, but they didn't photograph so well!

When we were finished we went to the main tearoom, hoping to eat, but they had run out of food by 3.30pm which was a tad disappointing. The quality of the tea wasn't that good, and Jimmy noticed that they hadn't replenished the napkin dispenser since our morning coffee. Signs that, having a captive audience, they were rather complacent. This happens too often at too many 'Visitor Attractions'. I've been to worse, though.

We finished the day off in Mevagissey. We had considered staying here, before plumping for Marazion, and having visited the town, I felt we made the right decision. A pretty town, and we didn't mind the walk to-and-from the Pay and Display on the edge of the village. But I was struck by the large numbers of shops selling downmarket tat and, without being snobby, okay, being snobby, an awful lot of people for whom buying downmarket tourist tat was nirvana.

We found a pub called the Wheelhouse. Their evening specials board looked outstanding, but it wasn't due to start for another hour. Nevertheless, we had decent fish and chips. I was surprised they didn't come with peas, and the couple at the next table complained that theirs didn't, either, and they had specifically ordered mushy peas. A minor niggle and if I were in the town again I'd confidently go back there to eat. I also had my first taste of Rattler cider. It was not to be my last.

 

 Many more Heligan photos in Cornwall photo album.

My other blogposts on Visitor Gardens:

Sezincote

Batsford Arboretum

Thames Barrier Park

Polesden Lacey in June

Nunhead Cemetery

Nonsuch

Abbotsbury Subtropical Gardens

Burton Bradstock and Little Bredy

Blogposts by others:

Lost in the Mist by Indifferent Reflections - this is a lovely blog, worth spending the time to browse through her posts.

Lost Gardens of Heligan from Heaven Happens

The Lost Gardens Of Heligan, the One for me! - A Day in the Life

 

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Kos Town

I feel I ought to be more interested in Greek Classical ruins than I am. It would certainly seem wrong to visit the island of Kos, and not visit its main town, which has history dating back to the 11th century BC, and became a free Roman city. Kos was owned by Crusaders, became part of the Ottoman Empire, and was occupied by Italians and Germans in World War II, and was briefly a British Protectorate.

We caught the bus from our hotel to Kos Town and wandered round for a couple of hours. I would have enjoyed it more if it hadn't been so hot - above average for September, and English fools that we are, we went out in the late morning/ early afternoon.

Kos is major port, with regular sailings to Bodrum in Turkey, just a couple of miles away, and is frequently visited by cruise ships. It seemed that one had docked that afternoon. I think prices are inflated to make the most of cruise ship visitors, and it's a bit odd to see groups of overdressed people walking around even more aimlessly and uninformed than me, and slightly irritating to eavesdrop their overloud English conversations. We also overheard a conversation from distinctly non-cruise ship people planning a group outing to Bodrum which would largely consist of getting very very drunk and buying enormous quantities of cheap cigarettes (from outside the EU!). Funny, because the package holiday rep gave the impression that Bodrum exists to sell 'cheap designer handbags'. Nevertheless, we did contemplate going, for the history/sights, and to say we've been to Turkey without actually committing. But the weather was unrelentingly hot, and we concluded that we're just not interested enough in Ancient History to fork out. Looking at Wikipedia, I've just learnt that one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World is in Bodrum - Mausoleum at Halicarnassus - is in Bodrum, but in ruins! I've seen the Great Pyramid at Giza and don't need to see any other, although, if possible, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon would attract!

Kos is a pretty town and I am sure that I would have appreciated it more if I wasn't so hot. 

The influence of the Ottoman Empire is evident, and reportedly there is still a significant Moslem population around the town.

Hippocrates, considered the father of Western Medicine, was born in Kos in about 460 BC. Everyone who goes to Kos is obliged by law* to photograph the tree of Hippocrates. The much photographed plane tree is only about 500 years old, but may be descended from the tree under which Hippocrates taught and Paul of Tarsus preached.

I also liked the local graffiti!

There are several sights of classical ruins around Kos Town, and now, more than a year later, I'm confused as to which date from the Hellenic period and which from Roman times, and, to be honest, which are which! Still, it was nice to pause for a few moments to look at them.

I particularly enjoyed the Bath house, which, if I read the internet correctly dates from 2-3 century BC.

     

There is a castle on the seafront , the Castle of St John, which was built by the Crusaders. We didn't go in, and by the time I took this photo I was so hot and bothered I didn't even notice this couple inadvertently photo-bombing!

I would have preferred to have visited in milder temperatures and a better physical state. I'm sure if the opportunity were to arise again, I'd appreciate it better. But I don't see myself returning any time soon!

*possibly