Penderel's Oak

Having sampled the steak and kidney puddings at the Epsom Wetherspoon's (see 5th November) we thought we ought to see how they were in London Town and so made our way last week to Penderel's Oak, an establishment which may be named for a Civil War woodcutter, illustrated by the National Portrait Gallery. To think that there must be a whole department at the Wetherspoon's HQ given over to researching these names and coming up with suitable collateral to stick on the walls of the pubs in question. Just the job for a graduate of fine arts from some part of Chelsea. Or possibly a Sloane. All part of the price of your pint - at least it would be if I had graduated from the apple juice I am presently confined to.

Steak and kidney puddings were fine, served quite quickly considering that the place was quite busy. Only complaint was the peas which I suspect had been simmering in a bath of warm water for rather too long; long enough to have acquired a slightly odd flavour.

We took the opportunity while in High Holborn to visit the Principal Registry of the Family Division of the High Court to see to a little matter of probate. The staff were coping well given the cuts they have had to absorb (I think Kenneth Clarke offered up some very fine cuts during his tenure, as befits a former chancellor) and we got our business done OK although it did take a little while to learn that my braces would set off one of those airport scanners but we got there in the end. However, I would offer one suggestion. Someone could number and print off the daily list (I expect that they have access to Excel which could certainly do such a thing) and stick it up on the wall. One could then check that one was on the list without bothering reception (which was discouraged) and one would have some idea of how long one was going to wait by the progression of the numbers. A very simple scheme, just like that used by the blood people at Epsom Hospital and not unlike that which used to be used at the deli counter of our Kiln Lane Sainsbury's. I don't think these last do it any more; maybe demand for taste the difference deli no longer justifies such an arrangement. But a very simple scheme which would make the inevitable wait pleasanter than it might otherwise be.

Bought a small white loaf from Paul (http://www.paul-uk.com/) for the rather extravagant sum of £2.40 or some such. The pretty young lady on the cash desk was most puzzled that I could not be bothered with some reward scheme or other. But sir only has to log on and you have your reward. That these people should think that one was either so keen to make a penny or so bored to want something of this sort to do. But the bread was OK. A bit hard, no good for bacon sandwiches or anything like that, no good for crowns but fine sliced thin and buttered.

Then back to Waterloo where I bought the first 'New Statesman' that I have bought for some years, possibly many years. A magazine I first came across when it still had the aura and reputation of a serious lefty person's mag., back in the 60's of the last century. Approximately 9 pages were given over to the mess in Gaza and nowhere in those 9 pages did I come across my solution to the mess which is to hand it over to Egypt. OK, so the people in Gaza are not Egyptians and the Egyptians are not so flush with dosh that they want to take on more than a million slum dwellers, some of them violent. But in time, Gaza would be absorbed into Egypt and the slum dwellers would gradually come to aspire to something better than bashing Israelis. The sore would be lanced. We could even pay the Egyptians to do the job. I don't see a down side so what is wrong with the wheeze? Then 11 pages were given over to a bunch of critics opining on what they thought was the book of the year. A form of literary entertainment for which I have no time at all. I really don't care what this or that member of the chattering classes thinks about such things. Let them stand or fall by their regular reviews. So not really terribly impressed. It may be some more years before I buy another.

Then home to various snippets from our expiring subscription to the TLS. First, the admirable generosity of the widow of T S Eliot was in part funded by the royalties she got from performances of the musical 'Cats'. Second, it seems that one Charles Haughey was once in solemn conclave with the Catholic Church about the immorality of one Edna O'Brien. As far as I can recall Haughey was scarcely a monument to morality himself. He may even have been a great old philanderer in his young days - this being one the charges levelled against Edna. But then she was a lady and different rules apply. Third, a Guardian journalist reviewing Jack Straw's memoirs, observes while closing that the Human Rights Act worked much better than the Freedom of Information Act, because the party had done its homework on the former before getting into power. The inference being that it just rolled along with the latter and got into the mess we now have. I wonder if he is right? I am certainly signed up to the notion that our governments pass far too much legislation and would do better to do better with much less. Maybe compulsory grouse shooting was not such a bad idea after all. In any event, more on freedom of information in a forthcoming post.