A Mozart day

Off to St. Luke's yesterday for a spot of Mozart.

Made an interesting start to the proceedings at Epsom station where I bought my ticket by card, using one of their various ticket machines - of which there are around four, each one different, just to keep you on your toes. Made the purchase, collected a handful of ticket shaped objects from the rather awkward tray and moved off, inspecting the ticket shaped objects as I went. To find that I am holding half a dozen ticket receipts but no tickets. Back to the machines, past a rather grim looking young woman, not quite sure which machine I had used but the trays are all empty. Had the rather grim looking young woman taken the ticket which I had been too impatient to wait for? Couldn't be sure and couldn't be bothered to queue up at the window to try and sort it all out so simply bought another. Onto the platform, thinking that the grim looking young woman must have had it. She was sitting at the far end of the platform, hiding in a sandwich, so I walked past her, then back at her, giving her a stare, which she was able to return without flinching. But as well as looking grim, she looked rough, quite rough enough to have done such a thing. I did not have the brass to challenge her and insist on inspecting her ticket. Get a woman member of staff to search her for it? Bit like being short changed in the pub when you have had a few; you think you have been short changed but you are not sure enough or sober enought to challenge. Maybe a policeman would do better, have a better nose for when people are lying and be able to get a confession by sheer force of personality. A facet of personality which I am clearly missing out on.

And so on to Waterloo from where I walked briskly, it seeming quite cold, to the Market Café in Whitecross Street to resume my acquaintance with their bacon sandwiches after what seems like quite a while. Pleased to find that they were as good as ever. And so on to the concert given by the Aronowitz Ensemble (http://www.aronowitzensemble.co.uk/), and very good they were too. String Quartet in G Major (K80), followed by Adagio for piano in B Minor (K540), followed by Piano Quartet in E-flat major (K493). Experience enhanced by their being two premier division luvvies in the audience, although to be fair I only clocked one of them myself. Experience damaged by the chap to second right of me doing his crossword throughout the proceedings, crackling the newspaper it was on the while. Rather irritating. On to Wetherspoons to take a glass where the ensemble joined us (not personally that is) somewhat later; nice that they were normal enough to use Wetherspoons like the rest of us. The crossword crackler also joined us, but I didn't challenge him either. Altogether a day for bottling it.

On to the 493 bus where a cheerful African lady gave us her seat, either because we looked old or because one of us sported a stick. She was very pleased to have bought a couple of stock fish from somewhere in Clerkenwell, rather dear at £35 for two; maybe £15 per pound of fish flesh, the same price as a better beef steak. I wonder whether she would have paid as much at somewhere in Tooting Market? Looks interesting, but not too keen on the stuff myself, rather soggy, taste and texture free once you have soaked the salt out of the stuff. Maybe I needed her tuition in the matter.

Wound up by checking that the Ship Tavern in Holborn (http://www.theshiptavern.co.uk/) was still up and running, a pub which we used to use occasionally in my undergraduate days. I remember it as being a lawyers and doctors place, both from various parts of Lincoln's Inn Fields (where we used to watch the ladies' netball at lunchtime before the squatters moved in). Pleased to find that the pub was still there, still looking pretty much the same, and pretty much music free. They were also able to sell me rather a good pork pie off a plate behind the bar. Nice to find a pub which still sells such things. Bring back the sandwiches and the cheese & onion rolls of yesteryear!

Fine view of the city and all its tall buildings from Waterloo Bridge in the gray, late autumn afternoon.

PS: no ticket transactions at all had turned up at HSBC 21 hours later. Will I think to check again 121 hours later?