Gertsamtkunstwerk

A sunny February walk in Bournemouth

We were taking a chance booking a seaside holiday in February. We didn't fully understood we would be caught in between two great waves of extreme stormy weather.

Destination Bournemouth, using my biirthday falling on a Thursday as an excuse for a weekend away. When we left London the weather was dull and unnoteworthy. The train took us down through the outer suburbs of South West London, into Surrey, and across Hampshire before crossing over into Dorset. As we travelled, we played that gusessing game - field or lake - the clue is that lakes don't contain electricty pylons. The view was not spectacular, but in a quiet English way told a story of the winter floods and how the land was soaked, the waterways overflowing, and the New Forest - puddles and winter ponds.

Our arrival in Bournemouth was heralded by a heavy cold dark shower. Our taxi driver asked us if we were here for a Conference and seemed non-plussed that we were visitng for a mini-break. In the restaurant on Thursday evening, two couples were talking and I eavesdropped. One couple had been for a drive down to Swanage but had only stayed half an hour. I wasn't surprised. I had seen a news report; one line stood out "I've never seen the tide go so far up the High Street in my lifetime". Just the previous day Lindsey Harris took these amazingly good photos of Swanage. She's disabled right-clicking so I can't copy - fair use for criticism or review - but do have a look, they're exactly as documentary photographs should be - no poncing around with special effects but letting the subject of each photograph speak for itself.

All were agreed, however, that Friday would be the day to get out for "a walk". Which we duly did. I didn't start 'My Tracks' app until I reached the seafront, but the walk down the zig zag from our hotel is an exertion in itself. We repeated the walk from nearly two years ago. That day, it had seemed a challenge to reach the pier. So I was pleasantly surprised at how soon we reached it this time. In fact, the short version of this blogpost is that we walked from our hotel at West Cliff to Boscombe Pier, then turned inland to catch a bus. With more energy we could have retraced our footsteps, but on top of the cliffs (but I know from experience it is quite a trek inland to cross the Chines).

It was a glorious day for a walk and we were not alone in grabbing such a rare opportunity.

We reached the pier and lingered to watch the surfers in the water. The news had covered elite surfers heading to Britain and Ireland from around the world, but I don't think they had Bournemouth in mind. I don't think these people would consider themselves elite - although better than I could be. They probably meet every Friday for some fun in the water.

 
  
The weather was perfect for February. Suitably wrapped up in winter coat and scarf, it was a pleasure to sit basking on the sun-drenched pier for a mid morning latte. We passed several beachfront cafés where customers were sipping al fresco oblivious of the ubiquitous sandbags.

We walked past the pier. The promenade was covered in sand. Bournemouth has cliffs that rise steeply above the beach. The town lies at the top of the cliffs. The road has restricted access for vehicles, I think mainly official vehicles use it. And pedestrians and cyclists - it's possible to walk or cycle safely for miles, encountering only the tourist land train (but not on a February Friday) or council vehicles maintaining the front.

We passed the oldest municipal beach hut in Britain.

 

I became fascinated by the different colour schemes of the beach huts. It's been thought out carefully. Here, going from blue to purple through pink into orange.

These are amazing summer colours, not systematic but all of the same intensity

These are bolder but not inconsistent.

 I think these are amazing. The best thing about them is that they are fully accessible. 

UK studio a:b:i:r Architects and Peter Lewis of AEREA Design have redesigned the traditional English beach hut to be accessible for wheelchair users.

 The East Cliff lift, closed for winter, was undergoing maintenance.

Two weeks later, there was dramatic footage widely broadcast of the cliff collapsing.

 CCTV captures moment cliff collapses onto beach

170ft landslip blocks prom between Bournemouth and Boscombe piers

Just beyond there, the ice cream shop was shut for winter, and looking a little forlorn.

I felt a bit sorry for this woman. The weather was bright and sunny, so she had come to the seafront and opened up her beach hut, in the expectation she could read and bask in the sun. And the Council sent a tractor to clear away the windblown sand from in front of her hut. Necessary work of course, but probably not part of her plans!

 A mother took her kids for a walk on the beach.

A lone surfer battled the swell in the shadow of Boscombe Pier.

Beyond the pier, the lifeguards were off-duty

We walked into the Town Centre, which was in chaos following an road collision. We had a brilliant bus driver, who patiently explained to people their options eg "Run and try and get that bus which is more direct but if you miss it I'll be waiting for you" & explaining to passengers further along the route why they had been waiting. Once they understood, their whole body language changed to "I'm no longer angry now I know the reason, the poor dear" - underlining to me the importance of communication.

Pensioner in 'critical condition' after collision outside Aldi in Boscombe

As I walked down the aisle of the bus, my walking app on my phone played a fanfare as my total steps that day passed 10,000. The blue line on this map is 3.2 miles.

View Bournemouthto Boscombe add half a mile in a larger map

A Wandle ride in June

We got on our bikes and rode.

Almost, anyway! Firstly we caught the train to Waddon. And braved crossing the gridlocked A23 before reaching Waddon Ponds. The road's horrible. Or perhaps it's just the drivers, some of whom have poor risk assessment, poor understanding of traffic lights and scant respect for other road users.
Such a relief to get into Waddon Ponds. So very quiet. Odd, really. It's in the middle of a densely populated area. Admittedly it was a school/work day for many, and the weather was a little overcast and there had been a brief light shower when we were on the train. But the forecast was warm and sunny for the summer solstice; it had been a long wet cold spring.

Leaving Waddon Ponds behind, you encounter signs of electricity generation - the towers of the old power station, now IKEA and a local transformer station.

 

We cycled on into Beddington Park. We'd been there just a couple of months earlier and I had taken a lot of photos - and written at some length - so there's little value in doing that all over again. It was looking lusher and greener

 

I was annoyed to see this tractor mowing the grass for no obvious reason. It's not clear what the field is used for. It's not even marked out for sport and doesn't seem to serve any useful purpose. But, as you can see, something that may be wild flowers are sprouting. This mowing, dictated no doubt by a municipal timetable, seemed like wanton destruction of a meadow that could have been allowed to prosper until the autumn, as, thankfully, is happening in many other places.

Another picture of the Terracotta Bridge

and the clarity of the river

 
At the end of the park is The Grange. This is an old mansion and is set amongst a formal garden that I made a mental note to revisit when in full bloom. Cycling is the enemy of photography! We stopped there for a coffee and while we sat outside beside a tiny tributary of the Wandle, the sun came out. Finally, summer had arrived, at about half past three

Coming out of the park we had to negotiate a difficult junction made more difficult by it being the peak of school run. And then we had to make a decision. For a short stretch it's not possible to walk or cycle alongside the River. We could have taken the cut-through to Wilderness Island, following the Wandle from its major source in Croydon. But we chose to pass along residential back streets and pass the Westcroft Leisure centre, en route for the other source at Carshalton Ponds. At five to four I passed an older - but definitely not elderly - woman who sighed and lamented at the hot weather we'd been having. For all of 25 minutes! How was she going to cope in coming weeks - hopefully by at least removing her coat.

It was good to see The Grove at Carshalton so full of children and teenagers enjoying the late afternoon sun after a day at school. I felt madly envious. I never once went to a park after school. The Primary School day finished at quarter to four but we had to sit in the school hall for another half an hour awaiting a bus to take us home. There was an excellent Primary school ten minutes walk away but my parents didn't think it was good enough, and exercised their right to religious separatism, thus ensuring I had no childhood friends living near me. The unaltering daily routine was never broken for a spontaneous trip to the park to play in long overdue solstice sunshine. Solstices weren't generally discussed in my religious separatist schools (taxpayer funded)*. 

We cycled round the ponds and ended  up in the newly refurbished and re-opened Honeywood Museum

The tea room had a sign "Due to staffing difficulties, unfortunately the tea room will remain closed today" which was a pity, but probably not a decision taken lightly. The museum was great to look round when passing, although I'm not sure it's worth visiting especially. A mixture of local history, including the natural history of The Wandle, and some 'imagine life in the olden days' with paintings and other art works.

Well, it was very enjoyable until the arrival of the archetypal show-off Dad - the one who talks in loud stilted tones to the children he barely knows in order to impress someone - either us or the museum staff - what an amazing father he is. We don't actually care, but if you want us to judge, we feel you'd be better off listening to and getting to know your children.

It had been a lovely day back but the journey was unpleasant. Carshalton Station is close by. But trains from there do not serve Streatham Hill. To use this station would require changing at Balham, either to cycle home, or catch a southbound train - at a time when bicycles aren't permitted. Instead we headed for Carshalton Beeches. To be honest, if I had been on my own, and just a pedestrian I would have ended up in tears, at the cars zooming along narrow roads, the disgusting smell from the engine exhausts and the challenge of crossing a blind bend four-way junction with no pedestrian crossing - outside a school! Looking at the map there does seem to be an obvious back-street route, which I'll remember for the future. But on the way, I wished I'd gone to Balham and endured that slight but continuous climb back home! 

* my secondary school had many flaws I could spend hours listing but taken overall it was a good and, in retrospect, an outstandingly cool school that has produced many successful professional women

Some other of my Wandle posts:

The Wandle - Colliers Wood to Hackbridge

A Wandle in May

Rediscovering the Wandle

Wandle Wanderings Part 3

Wandle Wanderings Part 2

Wandle Wanderings Part 1

Wandle Wander

Related articles

Walk 9: Mitcham Eastfields walk to Sutton

Wonderful Wandle

An oasis of wilderness

All the posts about Cornwall

Everything I wrote about my September holiday to West Cornwall can be seen, in chronological order, here.

Back from Cornwall

Marazion to Perranuthnoe

St Ives

Carbis Bay and Hell's Mouth

Marazion to Long Rock

Lost Gardens of Heligan

A foggy day in Penwith

A Gloomy Day in Mounts Bay

Ben's Cornish Kitchen

Lands End

Sennen Cove and Zennor

Mackerel Sky, Penzance

Mount Haven Marazion

Gunwalloe and Mullion Coves

The Poldark mine on a rainy day

Lizard Point

Cadgwith Cove

A short trip to St Michael's Mount

Porthallow and Coverack

 

All the photos can be seen in Cornwall photo album.

Blogposts about other holiday destinations are in the Holidays category

Porthallow and Coverack

It was the last day of our holiday. How to spend it? I had thoroughly enjoyed my Cornish holiday, with lots of great memories of beautiful places and fabulous food, and hundreds of photos. But I was also looking forward to being back in my own bed, and didn't feel I was in love with West Cornwall like I am with West Dorset. 

Once again onto the Lizard Peninsular and to the remote village of St Keverne. Very pretty, it has an impressive church (we didn't visit), two pubs (we didn't visit), a Temperance Hall (you get the picture). Post Office, General Store, and Community Fire Station. But to my surprise, it's not by the sea, so we didn't linger and I didn't take photos.

Onwards to Porthallow, once the centre of the pilchard industry. The pilchard is now called the Cornish Sardine and according to this article from ten years ago was undergoing a renaissance. More here, and I've seen features on TV that suggest that Cornish Sardines are thriving - although I know the Cornish fishing industry was hit hard by the recent winter storms.

When we arrived we pretty much had the beach to ourselves and we sat there for a while, relaxing. By now I was pretty bored of taking pictures of waves crashing against rocks, and in any case, the sea was relatively still. So I spent some time taking shots of the small details of the intertidal zone. The results are a bit mixed but overall quite pleasing.

    

It was lovely to sit and relax on the beach with no one else around, but we weren't disturbed by the colourful arrival of kayakers - a couple taking a lesson, as far as I could tell. Once landed they didn't stay long. 

 

Later we were joined by a swan

As we left the car park, some people were taking each other's photographs next to a sign. The sign marked the exact halfway point of the South West Coast Path. For a moment, I considered leaping out of the car to take the same photo, but I imagined many people will have done so, such as this one. The South West Coast Path is 630 miles from Minehead in Somerset round the craggy coasts of Devon and Cornwall (North and South) and onto Poole in Dorset.

Our next stop, and the last place we visited on our holiday was Coverack. That was in September; the village appears to have changed significantly since - see Damage to the Sea Wall, April News from Coverack and video of the 14th February storm.

We parked up and went into the gift shop. I bought a book about the legend of Tristan and Iseult. I haven't read it yet. Next stop was the Harbour Lights café and bistro. What a lovely place with a good selection of home-cooked foods. I opted for a crab sandwich. We started by sitting outside, with a view over the bay, but ultimately, being that time of year, we were defeated by wasps and had to retreat indoors. (Also the arrival of a behaviourally disturbed child and his younger-than-me-grandparents).

We walked along the seafront. The map described it as a picturesque village, so I took pictures but didn't really do it justice.

    

It was low tide when we passed the harbour. I reflected that the flood tide must be impressive to allow the boats in and out across some rocks that appeared to block the harbour.

The lifeboat station is n longer used, but they appear to keep a boat there just in case.

At the top of the hill is a pub called the SS Paris, named after a liner that ran aground on The Manacles rock just round the coast. After a pint, we walked back down the hill, passing more picturesque housing.

We also passed a group of four tourists who were in the middle of expressing outrage. One of them had been walking along, minding her own business, eating a Cornish pasty, when a giant seagull swooped and stole the pasty from right out of her hand. I did laugh, though feeling certain that if I had been such a victim my outrage would have equalled or exceeded hers!

The tide had risen and the harbour was once again working. We watched the Kindly Light, registered in Berwick on Tweed - the furthest point of England from Cornwall - landing her catch. The load was winched up by a crane on the quay.

We returned to the car, and back to the holiday let in Marazion, for an early start and a long drive home the next day.

Other people's blogposts about Afternoon Tea

My posts:The story of Afternoon Tea, part 1, Afternoon tea part 2 and Afternoon Tea Part 3

The nice thing about this subject is that the photos of are varying quality but still make the tea look enticing, and the words, however well written or not, convey the pleasure they have eating it!

Far and away the best source of information on afternoon tea in posh London hotels comes from Guided Walks in London, who has taken it upon herself to sample as many as possible, and has an entire blog category devoted to this, including the regular Scones of the Month feature, but seems to have disabled right-clicking so I can't copy her photos! (her absolute right to do so, of course)

Everything Stops for Tea from Sensitive Souls Require More Beauty

My Home Made Valentine’s Afternoon Tea from The Three-Tiered Cake Stand: A blog about afternoon tea and cake - rather lovely, almost made me approve of the dreaded Valentine's Day, and worth reading to see the effort she had to put in for tea for two. some other decent posts, too.

Afternoon Tea at Fortnum & Mason from Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium

Best Places for Afternoon Tea in Cardiff and beyond from Cardiff Girl

A most peculiar Afternoon Tea @ The Westin Hotel, Dublin from Napkinplan (hmm, I'm overdue a return visit to Dublin)

Afternoon Tea at The Forbury Hotel Reading from Jennie Slevin

 Afternoon Tea at The Connaught, Mayfair by Maggie's Mangos

On Afternoon Tea by Baking Fanatic

No photos but a good read - The Perfect Cup of Tea from Lorna Ward News

Tea in the afternoon - Treat Boutique, Belfast - from My Life My Blog Zane

Afternoon Tea at Hanbury Manor from Alexandra's London

 The British Tea Time – A Tradition of Manners, Etiquette and “Polite” Society (and many other themed posts) from Caroline Hope's English tea time.

Nice little piece from a B&B website, although my trust is undermined by their use of 'Carnation chicken', no doubt very different from Coronation Chicken!

 

The Afternoon Tea Club seem to do their reviews by invitation or by freebies, so can't really be considered as impartial. And they have some lovely photos, probably supplied by the places they are advertising..but they hardly hide the fact that they're into freebies, so, simply proceed with caution!

 A similar warning about A Lady in London, again with professional photography almost certainly supplied by the establishment she's paid to visit

Researching this blog post I have been struck by how many people are happy to review establishments they've benn invited to review in return for a free meal. Fair enough that they declare it, and I also noted one blogger specifically stating that she paid for her meal and didn't tell the establishment she was blogging it. This is also my approach. I don't live to blog, but when I do nice stuff I like writing about it.

I couldn't take the freebies anyway; it would be indirectly against the code of conduct for my professional institute. I'm sure they wouldn't expel me for writing flattering copy about a restaurant that's provided me with a free meal. On the other hand, why would anyone take seriously any of my professional work again if I demonstrate I'm open to bribery. and, frankly, if I wanted to earn money doing things, my time eating, writing and travelling is worth more than the cost of a meal or two!

I'm using other people's pictures in the sincere belief that this is legally fair use for the purpose of criticism and review. I make no money from this blog. However, if people wish for me to take down their photo, just leave a comment to this post (I won't publish it but will comply - once I've seen it). 

Afternoon Tea Part 3

Part 2 is here

I booked One Aldwych before Christmas, as something to look forward to on a dark dreary afternoon - that, ironically turned out to be sunny and bright. Having sampled very few posh London hotels I can't truthfully say that this is 'amongst the best' but it is certainly on an equal footing with the Lanesborough and the Savoy. In fact I only have one criticism! 

When the waitress seated us she explained that the tea was 'Charlie & Chocolate'. In fact, it was a tie-in with the stage musical of the book Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, which is probably trade-marked. But that aside, she was excellent as was her colleague. Both were unintrusive but were there when we wanted them at the right time.

We were offered the 'optional extra'  of either a cocktail or champagne, and despite an earlier decision not to, we fell for it (and, later, a second, making the costs half as much again). This was the time also to choose a flavour of tea. I chose Jewelled Apple: The finest black tea with wild strawberry leaves, caramel and real apple pieces. Also on offer are Smooth Caramel, Queen of Berries and Organic Lavender Grey.

The table setting was modern-corporate-bland, and we were lucky to be seated by the window to enjoy the late afternoon winter sun.

The savouries arrived and there was a good variety - two closed sandwiches  - roast beef and horseradish on onion bread, and cucumber and chive crème fraîche on wholemeal bread, The keen eyed will note that that's beef for Jimmy who doesn't like cucumber and cucumber for me who doesn't eat meat. We shared the smoked salmon on rye, and the heritage tomato tart, and leek and Stilton quiche. The last two, of course, outside the strict definition of Afternoon Tea, but, not needing forks, not yet 'High Tea'. The savouries were truly excellent - not much else you can say when they are perfect and exactly as you hope (but don't necessarily expect). Greedily we accepted the offer of a free refil. Possibly regretted that later!

The scones and 'cakes' arrived together. Oh my!

The same picture from Jimmy's angle. Yes, that is in fact a pseudo-African rowing boat sculpture in the lobby tea room. Because Reasons, I expect.

Scones, fresh and almost melting in the mouth, came with a choice of plum jam or apple and meadowsweet compote. No need to choose.

Next was what I call a Cream Egg, but, obviously they don't, because of possible Copyright reasons. They call it Golden egg with vanilla cheesecake and mango purée. After that I'm never going to eat the downmarket Cadbury's version ever again. It would bring back bittersweet memories of this. Well, sweet. Over sweet and sickly. This wasn't. It was good proper chocolate for a chocolate snob.

 Then we tackled the Eton Mess

This was probably the closest I came to disappointment. It was a bit too sweet for my liking, and I've tasted better elsewhere. But I ate it all and enjoyed it.

Next was the chocolate lollipop filled with marshmallow, and time for a (by now) slightly tipsy Selfie, duly processed by photo-editing software - or airbrushed as the ignorants of Mainstream Media call it.

And to finish with, at the point where I was sated and experiencing a sugar rush, a bottle of delightfully cloggy chocloate caramel milk.

Not photographed individually: the rhubarb and custard candy floss and the blueberry brioche. Or the tea refills.

I owuld highly recommend this place. It's certainly not cheap, but it delivers value for money, in pleasant surroundings with excellent service.

Our next Afternoon Tea adventure cost half the price of this, which is important to remember. We got it in a deal that included a 'free' glass of champagne. This was the Kensington Hotel, a short walk from South Kensington Tube. 

I can't really complain about any aspect of the offer, but it was all a bit not-quite. For example, when we arrived, they had no record of my online booking and kept us waiting in the bar area for what seemed like a long time, in front of a TV showing rugby and with two blokes talking loudly above and about the rugby. 

The selection of tea was nothing special - I chose English Breakfast, which was fine but not memorable. The sandwiches were the standard - traditional or uninspired, it's a judgement call - cream cheese and cucumber/ham/smoked salmon/egg mayo quartet. Served on mass catering sliced. Fresh enough, but, again, forgettable. Refills cost £9.50 extra. We declined.

We followed with scones. It seemed a bit grudging to offer one plain and one raisin between us. We did the obvious and split both. But they weren't totally fresh. I suspected they had been baked the previous day, which is fine for cakes, breads, and many other baked goods, but not scones. The jam, a workaday and uninspired strawberry.

 

I have an odd story to tell about the cakes. A tiny piece each of Victoria Sandwich and carrot cake (he'd taken his carrot before I had the camera ready), but they were exceptional examples of their type, light and flavoursome. Just a pity the slices weren't bigger.

There was also a selction of what I supposed is known as pastries. Frustratingly, there were four between us. We had to negotiate a fair method of sharing -as it turned out, both tarts could be split roughly in two with a knife.

They turned out to be extremely good, exceptional, in fact. I just felt that all along there had been an absence of je ne sais quoi about the whole experience. Staff were polite to a nth. But it was that politeness that borders on the subservient and almost grates. I didn't feel there was any understanding in the serving process, whether it be the perfunctory presentation or the seeming lack of insight into the ritual and imagined pampering that is part of Afternoon Tea. But overall, it was good, and - indifferent champagne aside - was really quite cheap, especially for a luxury hotel in Central London. A review on Trip Advisor said "When we come to England we always have afternoon tea here, it's the best" or words to that effect. No, no, no - it really isn't. Actually, you're in no position to judge, anyway, but, also, you really are missing out!

For some reason, I took my camera to the Ladies, and my heart soared at this comparatively rare sight

Yes! A proper mixer tap where hot and cold can be individually controlled, allowing the customer to wash her hands thoroughly, not having to choose between nearly cold and a tap bearing a sign "Caution: hot water". I have been in food places where it's impossible to do a proper hand clean - and in some cases these washrooms are shared with the staff, leaving one to wonder about the hygiene standards of the management. 

Related articles

Your Golden Ticket to experience Charlie & The Chocolate Facotory Afternoon Tea at this 5 star London hotel

Afternoon tea part 2

Part 1 is here

The cold dark days of autumn, with nothing to look forward to except a few days off work for Christmas. I fell upon the Afternoon Tea website, an entire website devoted to Afternoon Tea. I searched South London and came upon a place which, interestingly, is no longer on the website, and they no longer have Afternoon Tea on their own website. So this blogpost is somewhat redundant in respect of Lost Society Clapham. 

It was an interesting experience, and although I have several criticisms, overall I thought it was a decent offer at the lower end of the London price range. My criticisms probably boil down to one particular member of staff. I think he fancied himself to be cool, or cutting edge, or down wivdakids, or something, but he just wasn't very good at his job as barman/waiter. He initially greeted us with an insincere over-familiar 'Hi guys'. We are a middle-aged decidedly untrendy woman and a man who is technically a senior citizen. It's a bit bizarre addressing us as if we are sallow youth. Perhaps revealing this man's lack of real life experience.

We were seated and he took our orders for tea, the drink. This consisted of him bringing over a cardboard box containing about ten cardboard boxes of teabags and hesitantly going through them. The women at the next table asked for a written list, which wasn't available! I chose Teapigs' Darjeeling Earl Grey.

The choice was various Teapigs and Twinings. Both companies do a wide variety of both straight and flavoured tea. If providing them just requires buying a few boxes of teabags, frankly, I would have tried harder. He plonked my teabag in a teacup and filled it with hot water from a teapot, which he left on my table gradually to lose heat. I was irritated. I had booked for Afternoon Tea. Being able to make a cup of tea wasn't too much to ask, was it? Later, I summoned another member of staff and requested the teabags be placed in the teapot and covered with boiling water. The women on the next table also endured the teabag-in-a cup before requesting the teabag in a pot method!

Later I decided to have a cocktail, and when he took my gin-based order he said "That's a good choice".

I suppressed the urge to ask for advice on what would have been a 'bad choice' or, indeed, why a cocktail bar would bother offering cocktails which are 'bad choices'. Or indeed, how could he possibly know it was a good choice for me, given that tastes vary, and what's good for me may be quite unpleasant for you and vice versa. 

He was basically a prat and not very bright, but I wasn't going to let that spoil the afternoon.

For contrast, we later moved on to a more traditional pub in Clapham and I decided to stay on the gin. The choice was Gordon's or nothing. There's nothing wrong with Gordon's, but this was supposedly 'trendy' Clapham, in 2013. The mixer choice was between Schweppes original tonic and Schweppes artificial sweetener tonic, neither of them pre-chilled and both served on ice-cubes that had been melting on the bar for at least half an hour.

Otherwise I was impressed by the afternoon tea. The sandwiches weren't exactly 'traditional', and were all the better for that. They were plentiful, well-stuffed, well-presented and in classic flavours. I liked the cherry tomatoes - succulent and full of flavour, not always guaranteed, especially not in December. The bread was fresh and 'proper', perhaps bought in from a decent bakery (and if so, the right thing to do).

We finished with a lovely variety of cakes. Again, I was impressed. I know some places offer quirky or themed cakes, as you will see in Part 3, but it's possible to offer something different from the well-tested formula without having an artist-in-residence. Adding fresh strawberries was a nice touch aesthetically and for the tastebuds. 

The photos illustrate that someone in the kitchen or in management knows what they are doing and has a clear vision of how they want to present a quality afternoon tea. But it is so important to ensure the staff know what they are doing.

Often, Afternoon Tea is more of an event than dinner - the women on the next table were celebrating a birthday and were dressed in eye-catching vintage finery - not my style and perhaps OTT for a pub on a Saturday afternoon but illustrating my point that people expect good service.

One dull January day, we recreated the afternoon tea experience at home. It's quite some work to do authentically. The great thing about eating out is the variety, without the waste. When this photo was taken, the table was only partly set with a 'shabby chic' mix of china and crockery acquired over the years. It made perfect sense to start with olives and feta. 

This was only a selection of the sandwiches; there was another load being prepared in the kitchen. The fairy cakes were easy enough to do - mix up the mixture, pour half into cake holders, add the chocolate to the remaining mixture, repeat, cook and dollop with icing sugar/water mix. I'd also knocked up some scones, out of shot on a cooling rack - see the posh jam and plastic carton of cream. We drank Darjeeling leaf tea straight out of the cupboard, and, much later in the day, we finished with a slice of eternal Christmas cake. If we had been entertaining we would have made more effort to introduce a wider range of cakes, but for the two of us, this was sufficient. To be honest, I was pretty stuffed after just sandwiches!

The story of Afternoon Tea, part 1

I consider myself an aficionado, or even a connoisseur of Afternoon Tea, but before last year I could count on the fingers of one hand the times I have sat down for the full afternoon tea experience. I've had plenty of cream teas but not so many Afternoon Teas.

The definitions of 'Tea' are quite clear. Tea is a word used in some parts of England to describe a meal that in other parts may be named dinner or supper. In my mind, dinner tends to the formal. Supper perhaps is eaten later, after an activity. Tea is what you have when you get home from work and want something quick and easy but nutritious and filling.

A Cream Tea is available in most tourist haunts and consists of scones, generally with clotted cream and jam, and, of course, tea, the drink. Afternoon Tea is very precisely sandwiches or perhaps other cold, finger-savouries, scones /jam/clotted cream, cakes, and, of course, tea. High Tea isn't just a way to make Afternoon Tea seem posh;  High Tea must include a dish that needs a knife and fork to eat. But not too fancy - Welsh Rarebit or scrambled eggs make an excellent High Tea first course.

Many places include 'champagne', or, at least, cheap sparkling wine, as an optional extra or as part of a deal. For some people, perhaps, part of the justification for eating Afternoon Tea is an excuse to drink cheap sparkling wine before sundown. But who needs an excuse? (and, let's be honest, a lot of the plonk that's sold as a lifestyle choice simply isn't up to the quality of less conspicuously fashionable still wine!). 

I indulged in Afternoon Tea three times last year, and, already twice this year, with another one staged at home, and yet another booked for a future date. The quality has varied, but, to be fair, broadly speaking in line with the price. 

The first occasion was when we went to the Kent coast overnight for the heatwave. I had spotted this quirky place near Broadstairs on Trip Advisor* and wrote it down in my notebook. Somehow the idea became fixed and it became a 'must-do', perhaps a mistake because we ended up leaving the beach far too early. In retrospect it would have been better to stay on the beach and await the break in the weather for an afternoon tea.

Having said that, it was lovely. The Botany Bay Tea Gardens are the front garden of someone's house, and, in essence, they open weekends and Bank Holidays between Easter and September. They have a wide menu - Afternoon Teas and Cream Teas, but also a decent range of lunch/snack items. Very appealing but perhaps not to the two tattooed Polish builders who scrutinised the menu and reeled away in disgust! (They don't have an alcohol licence).

  Chalk boards hung in the garden list what home made cakes are available. We had a choice of  7, and it seemed that another two had run out. We made a mistake in placing our order, and the man, presumably the proprietor, helpfully followed what we said - that is, that I don't eat meat. So he brought us double helpings of the vegetarian sandwiches. Unfortunately, Jimmy doesn't eat cucumber, so I ate just cucumber sandwiches and he ate just egg mayonnaise. But this was our fault, not the proprietor's, and we have learnt our lesson for subsequent outings.

Tea came in a pot. It was teabag tea, but good quality tea bags - I could tell by tasting. It came with a hot water pot, and the the teapot even came with an old-fashioned tea cosy. Very welcome and refreshing after several hours on the beach in the Heatwave.

China plates and cups that matched each other, but not the cake stand nor other tables' china. Some places distribute china entirely randomly, as if they're the remnants of family heirlooms. Of course it's not significant, but I like to make note!

The sandwiches were served on fresh non-processed bread. The scones were fresh and big. I had a delicate tasty lemon drizzle cake, and he had a decadent strawberry and cream affair. I could easily have gone back for more if I wasn't so stuffed! 

To summarise, a solidly good traditional afternoon tea at a reasonable price delivering everything it promised in lovely surroundings in a slightly surprising location.

Our next Afternoon Tea came at the end of a mini-break in the Lythe Hill hotel and spa. Like many hotels, on your last day you are expected to vacate your room by 11 am, but you still have use of the - excellent - leisure facilities until late in the afternoon. Early breakfast, check-out, relax a little, then the full swim, sauna, steam, jacuzzi, probably twice, interspersed with laying on the sun terrace.

And rounding off the day with Afternoon Tea. Also in the restaurant was a hen party, and an elderly woman was awaiting the arrival of the other guests for a friend's 80th. Down by the lake the staff were setting up for a wedding reception. Our new temporary friend went to investigate. My favourite phrase for several days was 'a veritable Miss Marple'.

The afternoon tea pretty well summed up Lythe Hill. I do so like the place and you can't really fault them in terms of getting things right and delivering a good standard. But there's a little niggle that some aspects are just a bit corporate or impersonal. Standard bland catering tableware; big name tea and jam albeit good quality big name jam, and decent enough tea. Sliced bread. I imagine the cakes were bought in, again albeit from carefully selected mass catering suppliers.

I am certain that head office would have been delighted that all the boxes were ticked, but there was a part of me that felt I could easily have assembled the same selection from an upmarket supermarket or even Tesco without a diminution in quality. Sticking precisely to a well-established formula, served in the impeccably sterile surroundings of the hotel bar.

* I have a blog post pending about the advantages and drawbacks of Trip Advisor.

 

A short trip to St Michael's Mount

We were staying in Marazion, almost opposite the causeway to St Michael's Mount. 

When we arrived in the town on our first day, we left the A30 at the roundabout headed due south, and turned left onto the seafront, to be confronted by what is undoubtedly a breathtaking view.

The next day we walked Eastwards, two days later Westwards. I was then officially bored of photos of St Michael's Mount. But, like Everest, it was there, and on a particularly gloomy day towards the end of the holiday, we walked across, and walked back again. Just to say we had been.

Neither of us has any interest in being charged to see the household artefacts of some non-descript family of the squirearchy class. Yes, your ancestors had money, and generally you're pretty circumspect about how they came about it, so we'll assume, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, that you came about it by exploiting or oppressing my ancestors or their local equivalents, or by being on the winning side of a power struggle (probably armed and deadly). So, I see no reason to admire you just because you're descended from such people. Quite the contrary.

We returned to town and lazed the rest of the day away until dinner!

River Ravensbourne Walk

You may have gathered from this blog that I love walking or cycling along the Wandle. You may also deduce that I feel one is in no position to judge something as 'outstanding' if you have nothing to compare i with.t

One mild but gloomy day in June I walked along another of London's less known rivers. Jubilee Line to Canary Wharf and Docklands Light Railway to Cutty Sark - the latter, a stretch of London Transport rail lines I had not previously been on. Quite an interesting ride - at times elevated - through Docklands and the Isle of Dogs. I tried to imagine Docklands when it was bustling with ships and cargo - but I failed.

It is possible to take a guided walk of the Creek at low tide - although the information here refers to last year.

We walked away from the obvious tourist attractions of Greenwich Park and crossed Deptford Creek at low tide. At the time, I felt disappointed. I'm not sure what I expected but the phrase that came to mind was 'gritty industrialisation', not always associated with 'Greenwich'.

After I returned home and reviewed my photos I was pleasantly surprised how some turned out. Not pretty, I'll admit, but ugly urbanscapes are more interesting than a bland flat rural idyll of trees.

 

There was a veritable gallery of urban art. I spotted a middle-aged woman (with bike) taking photos of these graffiti. I sauntered nonchalantly until she went - lest she thought I was copying her! Then I took several photos. Apparently, these works are quite famous. I'm not a fan of graffiti masquerading as art - in my opinion it serves to condone less inspired 'tagging' and further acts of vandalism - but I will make an exception for these.

I immediately loved this art installation. It would look awful in Tate Modern, but was entirely appropriate for this bleak post-industrial setting.

I was also fascinated by this flour mill,  operational for over a century. Pity there were no sons to hand the business on to (/lame joke)!

This illustrates the difference between (more or less) low water and possible high water - which seems more interesting now, after the already infamous winter of 2013/14, than it did last June. Comes with bonus Squashed Shopping Trolley.

I was not much taken with Deptford - where Deptford Creek becomes the River Ravensbourne (or, given the way the river flows, vice versa) so Brookmill Park was welcome. A good neighbourhood park, and the site of the Stephen Lawrence Centre. I'm sure all UK readers are familiar with Stephen Lawrence's history - or really ought to be. But for others, here's Wikipedia:

Stephen Lawrence (13 September 1974 – 22 April 1993) was a Black British man from Eltham, south east London, who was murdered in a racist attack while waiting for a bus on the evening of 22 April 1993. The case became a cause célèbre and one of the highest profile racial killings in UK history; its fallout included profound cultural changes to attitudes on racism and the police, and to the law and police practice, and the partial revocation of double jeopardy laws, before two of the perpetrators were convicted almost 20 years later in 2012.

The park is green, a pleasant contrast with the gritty urban landscape, and great for local youngsters. We saw some evidence of 'wild play' - makeshift dens, swinging ropes and so on. The DLR runs alongside.

 

(I think that second one is a failed attempt to photograph a heron)

 

The river leaves the park near Elverson Rd and and a footpath follows it down to Lewisham, but the scene is bleak.

 

We reached Lewisham, and thus began an even bleaker and more frustrating part of the walk. To start with, crossing the road was difficult and dangerous because of roadworks. No doubt essential, but the site was laid out with no consideration for pedestrians or other non-motorised road users.

 

We had to leave the river at this point; I think both the Ravensbourne and the Quaggy, a tributary, are supposed to cause as little inconvenience as possible to Lewisham town centre. To be honest, Lewisham Town Centre didn't sell itself to me.We failed to find anywhere that so much as served a cup of tea or coffee, just the most god-forsaken retail park imaginable, too downmarket even for my dear other half, and deserted of shoppers except for a handful of woebegone souls, and featuring the most dismal Mothercare one can imagine.

We glimpsed the river briefly, running beside possibly the ugliest tower block in all of South London.

   

The walk on the leaflet - which I now can't find - directed us down residential streets of no interest, except for this incongruous but eye-catching stained glass.

And we arrived, thirsty, in Ladywell. We saw an attractive and tempting chichi café, and would have gone in, but unfortunately, major roadworks were happening noisily outside.

Instead we walked to a pub called the Ladywell Tavern, which was a bit of a dive. This is what constituted a 'cup of tea'. No doubt legally within the Sale of Goods Act but a complete joke. Trying to be posher than their capabilities. A teabag in a mug would have been satisfactory, but what kind of idiot in England puts a teabag into a cup? Contempt for customers (at the price charged). The pub also serves food, even has a dining room. There was an unnecessarily descriptive notice in the Ladies' loos, enough to destroy anyone's appetite, and my companion said the Gents' were just dirty.

We walked to Ladywell station, but realised that any journey home would be via London Bridge. Instead, we caught a bus which seemed to take several days to get to Crystal Palace. Fortunately we found ourselves at the Café St Germain, an almost authentic French café-bistro. I say 'almost authentic' because they jolly well knew how to serve a gorgeous pot of tea. I also had a delightful meal. I forget what now, but I made a generalised positive statement on Twitter. I vowed to go back; as it happens, I haven't, but it's still there as a mental note!

If we had carried on walking, we could have followed the Ravensbourne all the way to Shortlands via Beckenham Place Park, or pehaps branched off along the River Pool almost to Penge.

The next week, we took a delightful cycle ride along the trusty Wandle!

I now have a photo album called Outer London. The distinction from 'London' is slightly arbitrary: photos of Greenwich Park would fall in the latter, despite being walking distance from Deptford Creek, but I think it broadly makes sense!

View Greenwich to Ladywell in a larger map

The enthralling nature of Deptford Creek: walking the riverbed from Walk Around London

Deptford Creek; low-tide walks from The Deptford Dame

London's Lesser Known Rivers - The Ravensbourne from London's Lost Rivers

Walking Deptford Creek from Sue Sinton Smith

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