City of Friendly Strangers if you don’t mind smiling first sometimes
We booked online and were told our room at The Best Western Victoria would be in the annex. So having visualised a flat roofed extension out the back I was pleasantly surprised to find ‘the annex’ was another hotel, so perhaps ‘annex’ is not the best term to use, maybe ‘sister or sibling hotel’?
Having deposited our bags we made for the nearest pub for lunch, The Marquis of Westminster did us proud and, fortified, we headed for the Natural History Museum. Always a favourite with thousands of visitors and our day was no different. We had to queue for a few minutes even mid-afternoon on a winter weekday. But it was no problem as the sun lit up the warm, cleaned honey coloured stone of the magnificent building, a wonderful example of unchanging architecture in a sea of modern ideas and construction.
The Whale Exhibition would be of more interest to those who do not have our close up acquaintance with them, either folk who know little about them or scholars who need more in depth knowledge, so we went from there up to the minerals hall and the high security room at the end with the most valuable pretty stones behind security screens. We whizzed around in the limited time we had, promising ourselves we would return again, preferably with grandchildren in tow.
A big ice rink has been set up in the grounds with a merry-go-round alongside for those who prefer saddles to ice to sit on. Strings of white lights had been carefully spaced up the main trunks and branches of the surrounding trees and as daylight declined the whole area came to life as a festive, fun corner of London.
A quick wash and brush up and we were off to our table at the Kazan, a Turkish venue just around the corner from the hotel which we had also booked online after reading the excellent reviews. The only slight impediment to our enjoyment were the four very loud guys who sat down and talked over eachother and at length about tennis. I always think when I come across folk like that ‘Please serve them quickly because then they’ll have to shut up to eat’ and they did.
Each flavour stood out in itself and was subtly spiced, I do love Turkish food. Rob’s lamb was tender and tasty and my Imam Bayildi did more with an aubergine than I would have thought possible. Rob had the syllabub in the tall dish and I had Baklava which always brings back wonderful memories of our spell in 24 Fathom Cove in Turkey where the niece of the artisan restauranteur used to bring her motor boat out to us cruisers with a plastic display counter across the central seat filled with cake and baklava she and her aunty had baked, wonderful.
That night we had the window open on a quiet street. We’ll remember that location, sited so close to the Victoria coach and railway stations just as we had planned.
Next morning we broke our fast sitting on a comfy sofa in a Café Nero close by, then made our way by overland train to East Sheen and killed time wandering around the leafy streets in this mature suburb allowing the time of Christopher’s Thanksgiving service to draw near.
Saying Goodbye to Christopher
You may remember just before we returned home an email arrived from Sue entitled ‘Sad News’, Christopher has died while snorkelling during his Tongan holiday.
People in sombre attire opened their front gates around the corner from where Sue and Christopher lived and made their way to the red brick All Saints Church at the heart of East Sheen as we walked the same way having lunched in The Pig ‘n’ Whistle. The church filled up quickly, one measure of Christopher’s popularity and a chap behind us who used to work with Christopher commented “Haven’t seen the church this full for a long time.”
It was called a Service of Thanksgiving and Celebration, the thanks were due to Christopher who filled his life with the intelligent care of others. His labels include academic, adventurer, aviator, inventor, business man and sailor but perhaps most importantly a loving husband, father, grandfather, friend and philanthropist.
Rob said quietly “If only we’d known him sooner.” We met Sue and Christopher in north west Spain as we set off on our trip in 2015 and spent a few happy times getting to know them and their lovely 1907 built Larry who is now back home and based in Falmouth. Then we kept in touch by email and met up with them, you may remember, in Greymouth on the west coast of New Zealand’s south island.
It was their son Humphrey who flew out to help Sue with the arrangements to take his father home and who stood up at the front of the church and gave us a fascinating account of his father including the fact that this was the last item on his father’s current bucket list; to swim with humpback whales.
Humphrey’s daughters Matilda and Bella told us with confidence and affection just what fun it was to grow up with Christopher as their grandfather. Then a message was read out from the Agoro community of Uganda where Christopher and his UK colleagues were the founding fathers of the Agoro International Vocational Foundation. To date the foundation has trained more than 9,000 young Ugandans in skills to last them a lifetime, an opportunity they did not previously have after two decades of war in their country. The message described his ‘selfless style and attention to detail.’ An Everyman we were privileged to have known, albeit briefly.
Back on the train and into the Prince of Wales near our hotel to decide how to spend a rare and valuable evening in the centre of London. A quick supper in Chinatown, where the staff know people need to be served promptly on their way to the theatre, (have you ever tried eating Pak choy with a ceramic spoon, not a pretty sight) and we arrived at the Shaftesbury Theatre for a performance of The Story of Motown.
Fifty songs woven with a commentary told the story of the music and talent that grew out of Detroit in the 1960’s. Familiar names such as The Four Tops, Diana Ross and the Supremes, (and their split) Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, The Temptations and Stevie Wonder were just a few of the loyal performances. The American lady next to me came from Detroit so she had a vested interest and was enjoying a week in the UK by herself. She was divorced five years ago after 23 years of marriage. So I said I hoped she enjoyed the rest of her holiday and her independence.
We were nice and late to bed that night and the next day had a tasty French breakfast at Le Quotidien before meeting my financial friends, Clive and Austyn in their very new offices in Bishopsgate for a financial review. Business completed we retired with them for a delicious lunch washed down with New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, in a bar just around the corner from and under the watchful gaze of The Gherkin.
The Tube delivered us back to Victoria in short order and we were soon on our coach heading north to Peterborough. The ticket clerk in the Railway Station at Peterborough kindly gave us a free coffee and cake voucher for the Great Northern Hotel opposite “To shorten your wait.”
Melting Moments in Melton Mowbray
Famous globally for Melton Mowbray Raised Pork Pies and Long Clawson Blue Stilton Cheese both of which we found on food shelves in New Zealand, this ancient town in The Heart of England has defied the fate of many of its contemporaries by retaining its live animal market where flocks and herds meet their destiny.
They have done so by opening up the market doors to other events including shows, festivals and produce markets (the Christmas one is bountiful) and the one we explored with Charly and Tom was the Chocolate festival. Next year the organisers are planning to make it the biggest in the UK.
As we walked the short distance from the car park, well wrapped in scarves and gloves since it was a chilly breeze that wisped around us, I reflected on the new Lidl Supermarket that has sprung up across the road from the market. Before it was built there was an ugly office building there with the groundfloor offices given over to The Job Centre and waiting room for Driving Test Candidates. My already nervous pupils often had to rub shoulders with dissatisfied, grumpy adults and their bored children as they awaited the verdict on their benefits while my pupils feared the examiners clip board.
It was a long time since breakfast and it was cold so we needed a good dose of freshly deep fried churros swiftly followed with some slices of hot pizza to warm our tummies. Years ago when Emily and I lived in Lymington, Hampshire, we used to weave our way down one side of the high street exploring all the Saturday market stalls and up the other side until we came to the stall outside the church. The Churros Stall. That is where we first came across this Spanish/Mexican staple snack, sprinkled with powdered cinnamon and sugar we would munch them as we walked home with our bikes.
At the chocofest, as we queued for the bag of delights with the accompanying beaker of dipping chocolate sauce we watched the enticing production process. The smiling young lady pulled down on the lever that forced the choux dough through the ridged nozzle cutting the emerging dough at six inch intervals so it fell into the bubbling fat below and fried to a golden brown. Check out the featured image.
Her mum bagged the tasty morsels and sprinkled them liberally with the sugar and spice and we tucked in, finishing the snack in no time, which left a cm. of the sauce in the little pot, well I wasn’t going to waste that was I!
By this time Charly and Tom had come across a van with built in wood burning pizza oven. Amazing, what a wonderful job this time of year, no winter chills in there. The couple who were running it had mastered their tasks and in no time we were tucking into yet more hot cooked dough and my tummy was feeling warmer by the minute.
Equipped now as we were for further exploration we hit upon our raison de venir, chocolate! The photo shows an impressive display of shallow, grease proof paper lined chocolate filled trays of countless flavours, 3 big slabs for £10. We settled on Ferrero Rocher, Chocolate Orange and Crunchie bar style with honeycomb chunks. It was softened to a truffle texture and way too easy to eat so we rationed ourselves just to make it last a little longer.
Remember I mentioned earlier the fashion for flavoured vodka and gin, well there was plenty of choice and we readily supped the tiny sample glasses of raspberry, honey, Cranberry and blood orange (a happy marriage!), coconut and chocolate. Yep, we tried them all and settled on a bottle of the ‘happy marriage’ and a bottle of coconut to be enjoyed over the Christmas festivities.
There were too many stall types to mention, some chocolate based and others more generally Christmas themed but one final and delightful revelation was roasted apple flavoured ‘Moonshine’ and more memories came flooding back, this time from 1977 and the last few weeks of a seven month long tour of the USA and Canada in our Safari Landrover. Then hubby Stuart and I were staying with friends at their country home in Clarksburg West Virginia and we were preparing to return home to the UK.
But not before we made a trip to visit our hosts’ friends who lived up in ‘the boonies’ and distilled Moonshine. It was February and the area was gripped by sub-freezing temperatures and a metres deep carpet of snow. We loaded up with a few random containers of the clear liquor and were making our way home with Mark in his 4×4 when a loaded coal lorry in front of us lost its grip and started sliding backwards down the hill towards us. The driver turned the wheel so the massive grey vehicle slewed sideways on the slope and stopped with an unnerving lurch in our direction, but at least it stopped. Was this brush with danger a warning we were about to do something illegal?
A few days later we landed in Heathrow and passed through the nothing to declare corridor, the full hip flask and kilner jar of moonshine clinking conspiratorially in my handbag. After all the effort and risk in getting hold of the liquor it was the first distillation and was virtually undrinkable so we had to work really hard at it! This particular golden 21st century moonshine was smooth and delicious so as you can see we bought a Mason jar complete with dispenser lid and we will do it justice as the year ends and is reborn as 2018.
An Early Christmas Celebration
Yesterday the 1st of December was the first day of the festive season when the word ‘Christmas’ can be mentioned comfortably in our household, so Rob and I decided to celebrate with a drive out into the countryside behind Broadstone in Dorset for a walk followed by lunch at an as yet unvisited pub.
Parked up at the side of the road on Holt Heath we peered through the sun cracked surface of the public notice board which showed the pathway map of the area and decided an irregular circuit along well-worn tracks would bring us back to the car with a sufficient appetite for a light meal at The Cross Keys Pub that came up on our Google Map.
Two friendly dogs came bounding up for a fuss, “They missed the lesson on stranger danger!” The jovial owner said, so I replied,
“Or they can tell a friend a mile off!”
We were glad of our woolly hats and gloves as we strode forth and soaked up the beautiful surroundings. We were high up and could see for miles, maybe a hundred square miles towards the coast in one direction and Salisbury area in the other. Cut a chunk of the air and pop it in a glass with some gin and tonic and a slice of lime, cheers.
Tiny silver birds full with people slid across the blue above and a pretty horse with a golden tail and bespectacled rider cantered by, “She must be cold,” Rob commented, “The wind chill on her face and hands.”
We kept the sound of passing cars behind us and followed the track as it wound nicely round a full 360 degrees. Not that we were likely to get lost as vision over the heath was perfect and the tracks were so wide they were probably once drovers and smugglers routes.
Just a few miles away I used to walk my cocker spaniel Meggy along a track from Poole Harbour that joins the main London Road, now the busy A31 as it crosses the New Forest. Alongside this track is a gulley just wide enough for a man and his mule and deep enough to evade the Excise Men. Illegal versions of the Bible and French Brandy supplies made their way to the capital along this route.
What must it be like to live in the solitary home we passed on the middle of the heath? Would it suit the likes of us I wondered. Rob cast a rounded pebble onto a frozen pond and it landed with a nice resonating shclick, then we crunched the ice on puddles as we return to the car.
The Pretty little red brick pub has witnessed over 400 Christmas Festivals and Viv has arranged the decorations for 34 of them. There was an old gentleman sitting in what looked like his regular spot at the bar. “I pass by each day to get my papers and I find it impossible to walk straight by on the way home.”
He approved of my supping from a pint glass of Ringwoods Brewery Razor Back and after a few more verbal exchanges we learned his grandfather married a New Zealand lass and they both died in Auckland. We found common water in sailing as he used to race a one ton 36 footer on the 215 mile Channel triangle and is presently having a fifty foot cat built in Southampton.
In this quintessentially Old English Pub the ethos is still to provide a place where a traveller can stop for a good drink and a plate of home prepared and cooked food, a place to relax and chat with other folk. There are no reservation cards, no evidence of modernisation sweeping through the door in short time and filling dumpsters with the history of the place permanently removed.
Welcome warmth came from the wood burner with its beaten copper hood standing in the ancient fireplace and an abundance of multi-coloured decorations filled every ancient nook, cranny, wall space and shelf. Our lunch looked as if Viv had bent over its preparation all morning. Rob went quiet while eating his steak and kidney pie so it must have been good, especially the lashings of tasty gravy. The melting cheese on my nutty baked potato was sliding suggestively down the side when I forked it and scooped up some of the crunchy coleslaw to make a tasty mouthful.
Viv kindly took a photo of us with the idea we would add it and some others to this message to send it to you and wish you a Very Happy Christmas time and if you don’t do Christmas, then we hope you enjoy the rest of 2017!
