But a better managed excursion on this occasion and we had time for one of the fine bacon sandwiches to be had from the Market Café in the oddly quiet Whitecross Street. Fortified, onto the charity shop where we bought a DVD which we failed to finish and two books by Dick Francis (in one of which his son had a supporting role). My first experience of Mr. Francis and I am not sure that I will manage to finish them either, but we have a little time yet. I shall report further in due course.
Then onto St. Lukes for a Schubert concert: Trio Movement in B-flat major (D28), Notturno in E-flat major and the Trout Quintet (D667), the trio being supported by Rachel Roberts (viola) and Chi-chi Nwanoku (double bass) for this last. All good, very moving in parts; audience, not all of pensionable age by any means, enthusiastic.
Ms. Nwanoku (see http://www.chi-chinwanoku.com) was something of a surprise, not least because I have only very occasionally come across either African or South Asian people at classical concerts, never mind on the stage. Don't know why this should be so, but it has been. Notwithstanding, she has a tremendous stage presence and her playing was a credit to the Trout. Don't often hear a double bass, but I was reminded on this occasion of the drone of a bag pipe - with the double bass being a rather more sophisticated version. We get to hear another one the same time next week, so we shall see if the reminding persists.
For lunch, we finally made it to the 'Eagle' of pop goes the weasel fame, where we took one of their gastro lunches - two courses for £10 - in my case a light caesar salad followed by sausage and mash. Good ambience, food nicely presented and served, food adequate. Salad was overdressed to my taste and neither sausages nor mash were of the best. Perfectly good value but one might get better value from the regular rather than the budget menu. Obscure but entirely satisfactory bitter.
Thinking ahead to tea and the lack of thawed bread, bought a couple of Turkish flat breads from the Istanbul Supermarket, very cheap at 70p each. They were quite soft, possibly as a result of having been in a plastic for half a day, but they turned out to make spiffing toast. Open then up as if they were pitta bread, lightly toast on the white side and lightly butter. Excellent. Best white toast I have had for a while, making up for my belief that pop goes the weasel was translated as pawning my bowler hat turning out to be untrue. Or in the rather deflating words of http://www.phrases.org.uk, 'there's no real evidence to suggest that 'Pop goes the weasel' was anything other than the nonsense name of a dance or that the meaning of 'pop' and 'weasel' merit any further investigation'. I shall have to dig deeper and see if I can find support for my theory. Must have come from somewhere.
Managed to get home without going to Surbiton.
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