Gertsamtkunstwerk

Walking West of St Paul's (part 2)

Part 1 is here

We turned into Ely Place, a curiosity. Although it is without question just a few paces north of Holborn Circus, on the border of City of London and Camden, it is also an exclave of Cambridgeshire. As this Telegraph article puts it:

One of London's best-kept secrets, Ely Place is a living anachronism from medieval times when the influential bishops were determined to remain in their Cambridgeshire diocese even while on ministerial missions in the capital

First stop was Ye Olde Mitre pub, dating from 1546, and one of the most hidden away pubs in London Cambridgeshire. So hidden away I failed miserably in getting a decent exterior shot. The interior one wasn't much better, but then there were several people inside the cosy bar. Several real ales, including many guest ales. Convivial atmosphere, too, and some light banter with some older men who seemed to be regulars. Proper banter, I mean, a laugh and a joke at inconsequential matters, not 'merciless bullying' which appears to be the current meaning of 'banter'.

 

We went for a wander round St Etheldreda's church. This is one of only two buildings in London dating from Edward I's reign (1272 - 1307) and is the second oldest Roman Catholic church in England, and one of the first to celebrate Mass after the Catholic Emancipation Act 1829.

As a side issue, Catholic Emancipation and previous Catholic oppression - and that of Non-Conformist Christians - lies at the very heart of Secularism, and makes nonsense the Catholic Church's criticisms of secularism.  Wikipedia's introduction to the Test Acts states:

The Test Acts were a series of English penal laws that served as a religious test for public office and imposed various civil disabilities on Roman Catholics and Nonconformists. The principle was that none but people professing the Established Church were eligible for public employment, and the severe penalties pronounced against recusants, whether Catholic or Nonconformist, were affirmations of this principle. In practice nonconformists were often exempted from some of these laws through the regular passage of Acts of Indemnity.

This is strong proof from history that religious freedoms are mostly attacked by religions. These freedoms increase the more a state embraces secularism. Religion is a private matter, or one to be shared with one's religious community. It shouldn't be imposed on the unwilling but must be protected right up to the point that it breaks other laws or imposes itself on the unwilling. That is why many Christians are secularists and all should be - other than those who demand special privileges and funding for their own specific group at the expense of all other religious groups and the majority of people who are of no religion or do not involve themself in religious festivities beyond rites of passages and high holidays. The National Secular Society has a website. Those who don't know history and demand special privileges for their particular flavour of religion are the greatest threat to Religious Freedom. I find it particularly galling that some Catholics in England want special privileges, ignoring or ignorant of how they predecessors suffered precisely for that reason.

I took several pictures inside the church and its crypt. It was bombed in May 1941 and the stained glass window dates from 1952.

 

 We walked to the end of Ely Place and into the magnificently named Bleeding Heart Yard before doubling back onto Hatton Garden and walking briskly through several stops on our journey. 

I took a picture of the 'Walkie Talkie' building, repeating a mistake I make often of concentrating on new sites that will be there for years and not capturing the old before they are demolished. This is the building with the reputation for melting bicycles and Jaguar cars.

 The few photos I took in Gresham College did not turn out right but I made a mental note that they provide free public lectures on academic matters covering a wide range of subjects, from eminent academics. Here's a list of their future events. Free events. 

We passed a statue of John Wilkes in a prominent place in Fetter Lane. He was a radical journalist and politician. 

We also passed Samuel Johnson's house and his curator's cottage, said to be the smallest building in the City of London. I suppose we could have gone in, but I'm not sure of the benefit of trailling round looking at furniture. He is known as poet, essayist, moralist, literary critic, biographer, editor and lexicographer, and most famous for his frequent visits to Streatham, so I'm not sure how looking at his furniture would have been enlightening. 

This part of the walk was more interesting for its twisty turns through a warren of back-streets you wouldn't notice if you were passing by on the way from one place to another - Fetter Lane is part of the A4, the Great West Road to Bristol.

 

The last point of interest was the remains of the crypt of Whitefriars Priory, just off Fleet Street. You can gaze on these ancient ruins from behind a glass screen.

 

Gazing at such ruins has limited interest, but it's still rather nice to be in a quiet place in the heart of the City of London, looking at something that's nearly nine hundred years old and is really quite secret,

But by then, we had had enough - but not too much - of walking, and found ourselves a pub serving food, The Harrow, which I wrote briefly about at the time. We caught a train from Blackfriars station to Loughborough Junction. Both the station and the railway line afforded some splendid views above London in 'the Golden Hour' (that precedes sunset) on a beautiful bright day in London.

View 5 Cheapside in a larger map

Cadgwith Cove

Described in both my guide books as 'idyllic', Cadgwith was our destination after Lizard Point.

We missed the main turn off and approached on very minor roads. Just outside the village was a sign saying that the slope was a 25% descent. Jimmy has very good clutch control!

We had to drive through the village and up another very steep road to reach the car park. Of course, if you drive up from a village to a car park, your next step is to walk down a steep hill to the village - and not think too much about the return walk!

He went to 'pay and display' and I took photographs of butterflies on flowers (or weeds!).

 The footpath to the beach lay between picturesque Thatched Cottages, and past a small church that was, basically, a tin hut.

    

We sat on a bench on a headland overlooking the beach. A fishing boat had just landed and people on the beach and seagulls were watching.

One man went far too close to the fishing boat in order to get that one photo he thinks will be special. 'Too close' because I think it's quite rude to assume that someone going about their everyday job necessarily wants to be the subject of a tourist close snapshot. It can be quite annoying, too, for someone who's working to have some fool getting in the way.

I was amused by the seagulls, waiting to pick up scraps of fish left by the fisherman. I thought that. being seagulls, they were supposed to catch their own fish ("you had one job", and all that).

  

I was amused, too, by a woman who was struggling to walk in flip-flops on the shingle beach. She wasn't old - maybe in her 30s - and she had to cling to her partner not only to walk on the shingles but even to get up the steps to her (presumably holiday let) beachside cottage. Do men find that level of patheticness attractive?

We had a wander down to the beach. It is lovely village, although ruined, to some extent, by being geared towards and tourists and full of them, but who am I to complain!

 

It was a day of glorious sunshine and quite some heat, but we had to depart earlier than I would have liked because we had another 6.30 dinner booking. I had rung up and asked for a 7.30 table but they said they couldn't fit us in. I assumed they would be full but it wasn't full even we left at about half eight, and, frankly, there was a distinct lack of atmosphere pretty much until we were onto the pudding. We were the only customers for the first half hour, nothing quite says 'pariah' like that

The restuarant was the Victoria Inn in Perranuthnoe, which we had visited the first week, too. In my diary I wrote "Can't fault it, except in tiny details". I wrote at length about the lack of atmosphere, and, I'm afraid, that's my abiding memory. The other faults were that they offer you bread before the meal but give the strong impression that you are strictly limited to one piece - and there is no butter knife separate from the starter knife.

I started with salmon gravadlax and smoked mackerel pate.

My main was Roast Plaice with minted peas and 'real' chips

Both were very good, if rather straightforward and not overly-exciting.

The highlight was Ginger cake, with an oomph of a ginger hit, and malt ice-cream. I've never had that flavour before and particularly enjoyed the chips of malted 'starchy stuff' (according to my diary!). Wine was a French Rosé made by a Cornishman in Provence.

 

Eat in Streatham

I moved to Streatham in 1991. I can't say it was a great place for eating, but then, probably, few places in Britain were in 1991. It's astonishing to realise how far Britain has come since then. I live in Brixton now, but very much on the border of Streatham, so I feel torn between the two towns. Streatham has never been great for eating and I don't feel even now that there are any stand-out restaurants. However, there are a lot of decent restaurants, places that serve good enough (or better) food conveniently close to home. And, to be fair, there are a good few I haven't tried.

Looking through my photographs I found several that don't merit a blogpost in themselves, but I realised I had sufficient to 'tell a story' about Streatham food.In late April we had taken a beautiful walk along the stunning River Wandle but had been curtailed by a typical April shower and, let's face it, my lack of stamina. We had taken shelter in a dodgy pub in Wallington where the locals barely concealed their hostility. There was another middle-aged couple in there, she was so middle-class she was wearing a sleeveless quilted jacket. She looked even more uneasy/uncomfortable than I felt.

So it was a relief to get back to Streatham Hill and into the much talked about Ilili. Jimmy thought it was over-rated, based on a Mixed Grill. I didn't quite see the point of going to a Middle Eastern restaurant and having a mixed grill. I didn't feel it was anything special, but its appeal is increased by being easy walking distance of home. Not that evening, though, given that we got completely soaked in a cloudburst in the time it took to get to the bus stop. We went back at Christmas and again just the other day. The food isn't fancy but it really packs a punch with flavours.

I had grilled King Prawns

In August was the Streatham Food Festival. The organisers had the brilliant idea of inviting local restaurants to participate in a Food Tour. We visited several. Some of them grasped the concept better than others. The idea was that for a price of say, £3-£5 you were treated to a small potion of their signature dish, the idea being that over the course of Friday evening and Saturday afternoon and evening you could taste from just about everywhere. This year's Food Festival is the first weekend in June.

We started at Bravi Ragazzi Pizza. I didn't photograph the small but tasty triangle of pizza we were served. I think we may have been the first food tourists there; later in the evening I saw on Twitter people getting larger portions. But I'm not angry - things happen, it was a bit 'play-it-by-ear'. 

Next stop was Pratts and Payne which proved to be the culinary highlight of the weekend, the most gorgeous goat's cheese and fig tart. Beautifully presented and exquisitely tasty, and just the right portion size for the concept.

We spent the rest of the evening in Nineteen. I like Nineteen. It does what it does extremely well. Except that it's usually completely hopeless for vegetarians. Jimmy isn't massively keen. I think it absolutely epitomises Streatham eating. Pretty decent, really quite good, ideal for residents of SW2 and SW16, but unexceptional and lacking the wow factor. However, the staff were warm and friendly - not artificial - and the (vegetarian) gnocchi I had was lovely, and again, just the right size.

The table decoration reflected the place, simple and elegant.

The cocktails seemed to slip down marvellously!

The next day we tried to start at Addommme Pizzeria and Trattoria. However, they didn't offer a sit-down for Food Festival, even at 4 o'clock on a Saturday. I was well annoyed at that and vowed never to go back, but that annoyance subsided. They were newly opened, the Festival Food tour was a new concept and why boycott a well-reviewed place so close to home!

Onto Troy Barbeque. I've been past the place so often and it never appealed but I liked what they were offering for the Festival. The waitress was really lovely and they gave us a packed plate. I had veggie Moussaka. Not really keeping with the Festival concept of 'small signature dish' and this meant I ended up being quite stuffed. But it would be churlish to complain about being served too much! We haven't actually been back, but it's definitely now on our list, and would have been our second choice after Ilili in our Emergency Christmas Eve Restaurant search.

We travelled all the way past central Streatham to the Manor Arms, now under new management. W have had some good meals there, but it deteriorated and my birthday lunch was just awful. Given the new management, we thought we would give it a go. That was a mistake. This was how I Tweeted it.

• Oh Manor Arms. What a spectacularly shit pub you've become, & so quickly
• Manor Arms, row of blokes on bar stools blocking access to the bar. Bad. Kids running round screaming. Bad.

• Manor Arms. Poor selection of ale. Bad. Fishcakes - lumps of potatoes. Bits of crabshell. Greasy. Bad.

• The main menu looks sad at Manor Arms. Trying to be a pricier Wetherspoons, but without 'Spoons flair.

• Just ridiculous to buy a successful business & basically remove the elements that made it successful. Good food & good ale.

I won't be going back anytime soon, if ever.

Our final stop was Taj Mahal. We and another party had some difficulty explaining to the waiting staff that we were there for the Food Festival. We had to talk them through their offer. And again, they piled on the poppadums and so on. I went for the vegetable curry, but left half of it. There was nothing wrong with it but it wasn't tasty enough to carry on eating. Yes, I was already quite full, but that often doesn't stop me eating.

Overall, despite the hicccups, I thought it was a brilliant idea, and I'm already looking forward to the 2014 Festival, first weekend in June. I would strongly urge the organisers to impress upon the restaurants about stand alone signature dishes, but I know that often people don't listen properly!

I haven't eaten out much anywhere since, except when I've been away, but one day In January I ate twice in Streatham. A decent stroll on Tooting Common was followed by good coffee and excellent ginger cake in Brooks & Gao. This is a definite contender for 'Things with Faces In'.

In the evening we went out to Addomme Pizzeria. Despite my annoyance in August, I thought it rather stupid to snub a place that consistently gets positive reviews and is less than a mile from home. 

I had a prawn and linguine dish which was fine. Again, in my view, fulfilling the usual Streatham criteria of being 'good enough or better' & worth going to because of proximity. This place is best known for its pizzas, so maybe I should have had a pizza. but I admit to being a total Philistine with pizza. I like them Deep Pan and full of unhealthy or unsuitable ingredients - I am that person who orders pineapple (and tinned sweetcorn) as an additional topping.

 

To conclude, Streatham food has improved beyond recognition in 20-odd years and there are plenty of decent places to serve the locals, but I'm not sure there's anywhere I would feel safe recommending to anyone to travel specially to savour!

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Eynsford & Lullingstone

This is a delightful part of Kent easily accessible by car from Dartford and South East London. It also has a railway station, served by First Capital Connect Trains via Elephant and Bromley South.

There is quite an array of tourist attractions for a village/parish I'd not heard of before I began browsing the web.

It was a lovely day in late April. After coffee in the village we started with a gentle stroll by the River Darent, which I hadn't heard of. The old London to Dover crossed this river at the town known as Dartford.

    

We followed the road round alongside the river 

 and stopped to take photos by an awe-inspiring viaduct, which rises to 75 feet across the valley and has 9 arches.

 We took the minor road to Eagle Heights and looked out across the valley.

and into a farm yard which housed a giant pig.

Eagle Heights is a large bird of prey centre with over 150 raptors. We had arrived in between flying times, so it wasn't worth our while to pay to go in, but I'm sure it must be a lot of fun.

The site which had inspired the day out was English Heritage's Lullingstone Roman Villa, which was sort of interesting but also a bit disappointing.

Interesting, because it is an actual Roman Villa - or remains of. It dates back to about 100 AD and it's possible to walk around and get a real sense of scale and lay out, with some fairly informative wall displays and some artefacts on display.

It wasn't exactly as I expected. I assumed it would be in the open air and it would be possible to scramble round the ruins. Of course I understand perfectly why English Heritage want it protected from the elements and not further damaged by clumsy tourists. I was just very disappointed by the lighting. I didn't understand why everything had to be bathed in various colours of artificial light. I'm prepared to accept a case for protection from the sunlight, or a case for muted electric lights, but the coloured lights were off-putting.

I also found it mildly irritating how much space was given over to making the place 'child-friendly'. I'm not opposed to historically informed child-oriented displays and explanations, or 'imagine you were a slave working in this villa'. Perhaps my opinion is distorted by the obligatory 'family' group that were there when we were.

We suspect it was a absentee Dad on his access day, taking his kids to this villa so that he could show off to the mother and his laddish friends what a great Dad he is. Three activities: running up and down the balconies (shouting); colouring things in (shouting); and dressing up in generic 'Days of Old' costumes (shouting). Other than this group I was the youngest person there. I bet the other adults 'appreciated' the out-of-control brats as much as we did!

It's almost like it's a crime to want to go anywhere and expect civilised constrained behaviour. I don't believe that the kids are benefiting more educationally from colouring things in and dressing up as a Plantagenet aristocrat than they would learn by actually looking at piles of old stones. If public bodies assume that today's children are stupid, uninquisitive and slow-learners it becomes self-fulfilling.

Anyway, because I went and took them, here are some photos of some Roman ruins.

       

 The Mosaic is impressive, especially considering its age. Hard to tell from this photo, but it's black and white, not green and pink.

 

The footpath from the Railway station takes one straight to the Roman Villa. It doesn't seem too far and other than a few yards near the station is entirely away from speeding vehicles. We had a pleasant stroll down a country lane, passing many people like us, wanting to take advantage of the sunshine.

We found ourselves at the gates to Lullingstone Castle - not really a castle, more a Manor House. I quite fancied a look round the 'World Garden'. The man on the gate explained that a tour of the house had just started and after the house tour would be the Garden Tour. So without really discussing it we committed to the house tour.

Regular readers might have noticed that I'm not keen on 'Stately Homes' masquerading as 'Heritage' pretending to be 'History'. There wasn't really a great deal of history mentioned, just a bit of showbiz gossip and complacency. They used to have silk farms that spun the silk for RAF parachutes and for Royal wedding dresses. Naturally, more emphasis given to the Royal connections than the potentially more interesting parachute history.

A detailed explanation of how the 'Compare the Meerkat' adverts were filmed there, and some smug boasting that the view will never be spoilt because it's a golf course and it's against Planning Rules to build on golf courses. I can't find a reference to prove or refute this but whichever you look at it it's disgusting.

Twice as much land in Britain -  an equal amount in England - is used for golf as for housing, golf a pastime open only to an elite rich in cash and time, with bigotry and small-minded snobbery running through it like a stick of rock and less useful than either productive farmland or ecologically vital woodlands and wetlands. And, frankly, who wants a view of a golf course! The people of the house were very pleasant, though.

Much more interesting was the World Garden and the excellent tour guide, Tom Hart-Dyke. I have to confess I hadn't heard of Tom, but I've subsequently seen him on TV and in the Press. The idea for the World Garden came about when Tom was held captive for 9 months by Colombian rebels. He's a fascinating man, a very interesting speaker (for over an hour!) on a subject he's passionate and knowledgable about in equal measure. Very likeable. I would strongly recommend a visit to the garden whether you're an expert, or, like me, just like visiting great, interesting gardens. He's not a scientist but, as a collector of rare species of plants, he works with organisations like Kew Gardens.

And I took lots of photos of plants!

        

We paused for delicious home-made cake and tea in the Marquee, and finished off with a stroll around the grounds and a look at the parish church.

  

 All in all, a lovely day out in a surprisingly beautiful part of Kent. I wish to return before long to explore Lullingstone Country Park which looks interesting. 

Mount Haven Marazion

When looking on Trip Advisor and other sites, The Mount Haven hotel ranked high among restaurants in Marazion. IIt has two AA rosettes, as does Blake's in Bournemouth, Wild Thyme Chipping Norton and Lythe Hill near Haslemere (not yet blogged), whereas Ben's in Marazion and the Victoria in Perranuthnoe has one rosette. The Trinity in Clapham has three rosettes as do several Michelin star restaurants. 

Admittedly, the day we visited the weather was dirty, lashing it down and blowing. But in the middle of September, when the child-free holiday, I would have thought Sunday lunch in a decent hotel would be a popular move. In retrospect, I should have been alerted by the over eager voice when I called after 11 for a 1pm table. I was rather expecting a 'no' or a grudging 'I think I can fit you in'.

When we arrived it was guesswork how to get in - round the back, on the seaview side, but we chose the wrong level. A couple sitting near the French windows directed us with pointing and body language.

We were welcomed, seated in the bar and presented with tatty-looking menus, an A4 cardboard cover divided longways, holding typed pages of the day's menu. Except, the waiter explained, the Scallop and mussel St Jacques had become Moules Mariniere; spinach would be replaced by tenderstem broccoli, and puddings, which included 'Eton Tidy' were actually chocolate torte and coffee creme brulee.

  I was pleased to escape the bar, reminscent of a funeral parlour, and be led to the restaurant. However, there were only three parties and we were sat at adjacent tables. One party left as we were served our starters. The other party wanted to talk. There was nothing obnoxious or unpleasant about them, but with no other diners and no background music, their conversation was intrusive. Conversely, this atmosphere made us clam up, not wanting our conversation to be overheard.

My food was fine, noting in my diary it was somewhere between adequate and good enough and Jimmy enjoyed his, appreciating his venison in particular. I'm not sure if it's the same dish that Gregg Wallace described as "a magical mystery tour of flavours" when the chef reached the semis of Masterchef: The Professionals.  However, he was disappointed that it was served with just a small amount of heavily reduced jus and no gravy. As were were leaving, one of the staff confided in me that they hadn't made enough sauce the previous day and chef went mad because it takes several hours to make. Staff wise, they were all very polite, but it was an odd combination of the over-enthusiastic, the over-sharing, and the over-nervous. 

I left the place bemused. There was nothing wrong with the place but there was no 'wow' factor in the food. It wasn't unpleasant but it wasn't really enjoyable, either, and it was the most disappointing meal of our holiday, failing to live up to 4.5 on Trip Advisor (with glowing praise) and the 2 AA rosettes.

According to their website, The Times says Quite possibly the most perfectly located hotel in the whole of Cornwall. CNN says One of the best 9 secret hotels in the world. Perhaps The Telegraph meant something by saying It's all about the view.

 

April Garden

It's nice from time to time to publish - unseasonable - photos of my garden. I say 'my garden'. None of the credit for any of the work should go to me! I'm writing this in the twilight of 28 February (after half five, such joy!) and there are already signs of spring (including green fly, I'm told!).

I must get out over the weekend and take some 'March garden' snaps. These are from late April last year, and include some 'almost duplicates'. I call it photography practice!

Walking West of St Paul's (Part 1)

 At Christmas and New Year I took more than two weeks off work - the obligatory days, and those in between. The plan was to take advantage of cold but bright weather, and enjoy several 'days out', close to home (because of early sunset). However, most of the holiday turned out to be wet and windy, or, at best, grey and miserable. It was as if there was just one bright day, and we had to use it. Unfortunately, there is a photographic disadvantage of low bright winter sun in heavily built up areas. So, I present a series of photographs more about what they depict than their photographic merit.

The map I followed is below. I only turned the app on when I emerged from St Paul's Underground, and I turned it off in The Harrow pub, not bothering to track my walking route to Blackfriars Station. Including one wrong turn, and a certain amount of walking around and around, it was a 3¼ miles or 5.2 kilometres.

The first site of interest was Postman's Park. This was busy, especially around the memorial wall. I have been there before (March 2003 - some time ago now!) - photos here, and press 'Previous', so I didn't linger.

The first stop of interest was the churchyard and ruins of Christ Church Greyfriars. Established in the 13th century, it was destroyed in the Great Fire (1666) and rebuilt as a 'Wren church'. Apart from the tower, it was largely destroyed in the Blitz. This Wikipedia page lists all Wren churches - 51, plus St Paul's -  and lists those a) Substantially rebuilt after the Blitz (9), b) Tower remaining (6), and demolished in the Blitz (3). The City of London summarises its history and that of the post-War garden. Supposedly, it is haunted by not one but five ghosts - can't beat a bit of ghosting nonsense. This website contains a recent proposal to convert Christ Church Greyfriars into

a memorial of national significance to commemorate the heroism and sacrifice of the citizens of London during the Second World War and in subsequent bombings.

Sounds an excellent idea, the only drawback would be cash - and inevitable wrangles over matters of detail (I'm sure Charles Windsor and Boris Johnson would both weigh in with ill-informed crackpot ideas). 

   

 En route to the Old Bailey, we passed the livery hall of the Cutler's Company. Formed in the 13th century as a guild for craftsmen who made and repaired knives, it is now mainly a charitable institution - including donating cutlery to hospices - and cutlery is very much a Sheffield-based industry

As was the case with the other trade guilds of the day, its function was to protect the interests of its members, to attend to their welfare, and to ensure that high standards of quality were maintained.

The Worshipful Company of Cutlers

 

 We were able to pass below the Old Bailey, but not go in - unlike two years ago when we were able to look around the Royal Court of Justice, when it had risen for recess. My companion said "Let's hope neither of us has a bomb". "Ssshhh," I said. As if either of us - or anyone else with an inch of common sense - is going to say "Oops, I brought my bomb out by mistake" as if it was an office pass or a packet of spice you forgot to take out of your rucksack. There are some people you can't take anywhere!

Next stop was St Sepulchre-without-Newgate, a church ("Without" signifies its place beyond the old city walls, in the county of Middlesex). Outside is a drinking fountain, the first installed by the Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association, established in 1859: 

The objectives of the Association are to promote the provision of drinking water for people and animals in the United Kingdom and Overseas and the preservation of the Association’s archive materials, artefacts, drinking fountains, cattle troughs and other installations.

 It now builds drinking fountains in schools, restores existing fountains and provides wells and other water projects in developing countries - Wikipedia.

St Sepulchre's is nowadays known as the National Musicians' Church, and contains a Musician's chapel. Henry Wood learnt to play the organ here, and his ashes are buried here. In the Musicians' Chapel there are modern windows depicting Dame Nellie Melba and John Ireland, and above the altar the 'Magnificat' window in memory of Walter Carroll. On the south wall of the chapel is a case containing the Musicians' Book of Remembrance.

Another Wren church, it is now the largest in the City of London, and is the Bells of Old Bailey in Oranges and Lemons. St Sepulchre’s great bell tolled as condemned men passed from Newgate prison towards the gallows.On midnight of an execution day, St Sepulchre’s Bellman would pass by an underground passage to Newgate Prison and ring twelve double tolls to the prisoner on the Execution Bell, whilst reciting a rhymed reminder that the day of execution had come. The hand bell is now displayed under glass in the church, alongside the rhyme that was read to prisoners  - from the Parish website. 

In retrospect, it was a tactical mistake not to go inside and explore further. Ah well, another time!

We had a quick peak into Snow Hill Court behind the church, and walked down Snow Hill. This police sign is a relative rarity nowadays; this is on the site of the old Saracen's Head, where Wackford Squeers met Nicholas Nickleby. Read about Sarah Mountain, a 'formidable business woman'. Watercolour of the Inn.

 

 We passed a rather un down part of Smithfield Market, the last surviving wholesale market in Central London - for the sale of meat and poultry. There was a livestock market on the site 800 years ago, and Wikipedia has a long and detailed history. Last week, The Observer ran an article about it:

The battle to save Smithfield market

A controversial plan to turn one of London's finest Victorian markets into a £160m office and retail complex is the subject of a current public inquiry and the finely balanced rival claims of heritage and development

 BBC London says

A public inquiry ends this week into plans to redevelop a large section of Smithfield Market in Farringdon.

Some of the Victorian buildings have stood derelict for 30 years and a brand-new public piazza with restaurants and cafes is planned.

But campaigners say the inclusion of multistorey office blocks will destroy the market's heritage. A decision will be made in the Spring.

We reached Farringdon Street and I photographed Holborn Viaduct. I've always assumed it to be a railway bridge, but it seems that it carries the A40. I did once catch a train to Holborn Viaduct station, in 1981, and was told off by 17 year old cousin for mispronouncing it. It closed in 1990. 

From here, it was - surprisingly - only a short walk into Cambridgeshire, and a welcome stop in a extraordinary pub. But this blogpost is already long enough, so stay tuned for Part 2, a sneak preview of which is contained in the map below, which marks my exact route!

View 5 Cheapside in a larger map

Food un-porn

My earliest food photo is from November 2002. I am fairly sure this is Pakora, in a brilliant but short-lived Nepalese restaurant on a side street at the top of Brixton Hill. 

According to Wikipedia, Instagram was launched in October 2010. I am not a member of Instagram nor do  ever want to be. "No filter" scream people, even those who really ought to know better. Oh, wow! You took a photo without a filter. How innovative.

I didn't invent taking photos of food. I didn't even invent 'amateur blogger/photographer takes photo of food and publishes it online as part of an internet-based journal'. But nor did I copy anyone or jump on any bandwagon. Other photos at the time show that I was developing an interest in small objects. I think painters call it 'still life'. Again, not innovative.

Google 'Still Life' and the first hit under Images is Apples, Peaches, Pears and Grapes. Paul Cezanne 1880.

Another webpage says: 

The fruits and objects are readily identifiable, but they have no aroma, no sensual or tactile appeal ... They bear no relation to the colorful vegetables of Provence -- gorgeous red tomatoes, purple aubergines, and bright green courgettes. In his pursuit of the essence of art, Cézanne had to suppress earthly delights.

History of Art is not one of my strong points, but I can be fairly certain that Paul Cezanne was ridiculed for his still lifes of fruit.

I bought these mini pottery casserole dishes because they match my other Le Creuset kitchenware and because I get unnecessarily excited by scaled down objects. I made a lovely breakfast by soaking some smoked salmon in milk and chives, adding an egg, and baking. 

   

I watched the film Julie and Julia; it was entertaining and thought-provoking. A film about blogging. How tedious, how achingly zeitgeisty said some critics. Whatev. (A rare film that manages to feature a woman doing something other than angst over a man, whilst also acknowledging that women can actually combine 'thinking' and 'doing' with 'being in a relationship'. Heck, it was a film with the two main characters being women. That's noteworthy for Hollywood).

For a few moments I contemplated a similar exercise. Find a cook book and diligently work my way through, blogging each and every creation. I quickly rejected this. Some people may feel I'm a bit of an anorak but I'm not a completist. I don't need all records/books by any singer or author, and I don't feel compelled to walk/cycle the entirety of the South West Coast Path, the Capital Ring or the Wandle Trail. I'm quite poor at sticking at things. With leisure pursuits, what's the point of going on if it doesn't give you pleasure?

Last summer I discovered that goats cheese and figs are a blissful union. To be honest, it was only last summer I discovered figs - other than the dried sugared version that come in fig rolls. An oversight. Great recipe - hint, parboil the potatoes first! Photography wise, should I over-expose it or over-emphasise the yellows and beige? In any case, why make it look 3 dimensional when 2 dimensions are just fine! 

 

Photos 7048 and 7049. So mediocre I can't be bothered to give them meaningful titles.

On the other hand, this blog is supposed to be a snapshot of my life and snapshots from my life. I enjoy cooking, although I go through phases of not being bothered. Food can be so colourful but I don't think the world needs another set of recipes typed up by me, especially as I'm not a creative cook.

Beautiful colours but out of focus and blurry. Again, not getting the essential 3rd dimension!

I tend to stick to recipes, and even though I may substitute some ingredients, I don't go far off piste.  I mock recipe web sites where people leave comments such as 'This is a veggie recipe but we're not veggies so we took the veggies out and replaced them with meat" or "I added mushrooms sweetcorn and creme fraiche and left out the red wine aubergine and spices". On the other hand, I think it's fun to read other people's recipes and sometimes they inspire to cook a related dish from a different recipe.

There are some truly dreadful amateur food pictures on the internet. Most people cook food to eat it, and take a quick snapshot before it goes cold. Look at recipe books, magazine articles or websites for restaurants and you see something different. In most cases, the food was cooked specifically to be photographed.

There are tricks that some photographers use - coating food with inedible substances to make it shine, inserting wooden or plastic props to make it look three dimensional. Even those that don't use these tricks pick their lighting carefully. They rarely shoot in pokey home kitchens, and usually use professional photography lights and reflectors. Should amateurs use flash, or not? The results from professionals can be spectacular. From amateurs, less so!

Chocolate cake! Who can resist? Actually, this was so-so. I made the sponge chocolaty by adding cocoa, as I have been doing since childhood. But it didn't really taste of chocolate. Was the cocoa poor quality, or long past its best before date? Some recipes add melted chocolate, but most use cocoa. It was dispiriting. 

I did a few things right in these photos - capturing the three dimensions, and showing the inside, a casually carefully placed cake slice to imply action. But, again, the colours aren't right, the framing and placement isn't right, and I really should have made an effort to wipe the crumbs off the plate.

For my final dish I tried something different. Basically, putting together a dish from scratch. In my Uni hall of residence I loved chef's bulgar wheat and walnut chilli, and made it myself (from my head) occasionally over several ensuing years. I photographed several stages, with the intention of blogging "Hey, look, smug, my recipe, yeah, cool"

Can't really go wrong with the method.

Saute onions and garlic, add stock, carrots, peppers, chillis, and reduce it down.

 

Add kidney beans and walnuts. Add bulgar wheat and paprika.

 

Cook until it resembles an unappetising sludge, and add a tin of tomatoes to try and inject some colour.

 

I divided it into six portions to freeze individually. When I pour them out of the bag it looks disgusting. It has that slightly noxious odour characteristic of bulgar wheat and couscous. Heat it up, stir it around and you have the a comforting and filling meal, packed full of flavour, incredibly nutritious and just lovely. But photos cannot convey that hug-in-a-bowl sensation. I probably used too much bulgar wheat. As with couscous, I underestimate its potential to absorb liquid and swell up.

Perhaps the next time I photograph something I cook I shall pay better attention to lighting, placement/framing and generally how to 'style' a dish. But never to the detriment of eating it.