Chicken!

Yesterday was the day for the festive visit to Borough Market, so off to Epsom Station late morning where the wind was starting to rise. There was some rather optimistic washing strung out on a line below the station, a young ecalyptus tree was waving vigorously in the wind and the first tree was down at Clandon, knocking out half the trains to Waterloo. The festive spirit was represented by a migrant worker with a stash of five red carrier bags, the sort of thing you get from expensive gift shops, filled with parcels wrapped in silver paper and red ribbon. Very energetic type.

In the circumstances I opted for the Victoria line, and getting off at Clapham Junction came across a small woman (Japanese I think) struggling up the stairs with a big suitcase, as big as she was, and which must have weighed a good deal more than she did. I got her up the stairs but did not think to get any more of her story out of her, which was a pity. I hope she made it to wherever she was going. Picked up a Bullingdon at Grant Road and pedaled off towards Battersea Park. A bit wet & windy and plenty of twigs in the park but nothing to write home about. Oddly, no great wind going across the river, where I had thought that there might be. Along the embankment and parked up in Smith Square. Footed it along to the ecclesiastical tailor in Tufton Street, a fine establishment supplying everything that a budding archbishop could possibly want. See http://www.wattsandco.com. Declined to buy, but pushed onto Westminster Abbey to find that it was shut. The needs of the people at this important moment in the ecclesiastical year had presumably been made to defer to the needs of the television producers. Or perhaps the choir just wanted a dress rehearsal in private. But I was not very impressed.

So instead of Abbey, I carried on to the National Gallery, for a further inspection of the Ambassadors (see 19th December), where a helpful trusty explained that the lute shaped object under the stand, which I had not noticed before, was actually the case for the lute that you could see. More important, I felt on this viewing that the cleaning, maybe 20 years ago now, may have made the lute case visible which was good, but had done something bad to the contrast between the brown robe of the bishop and the green curtain behind, almost as if the former was a cutout stood in front of the latter. An effect entirely missing from the Danish-Italian widow who had, perhaps, not been cleaned. Perhaps the rather substantial 'National Gallery Technical Bulletin Volume 19, 1998' will reveal all.

In the meantime, picked up a second Bullingdon at Pall Mall East and headed off east. Along the Strand, across the Aldwych (noting the stand right outside LSE. I wonder how many students use it? Presumably lots - I would have), along Fleet Street, across the Circus into a rather windy Cannon Strret, a side effect, I think, of it running under St. Paul's - which looked, incidentally as if it was open, but I was past churches at this point. Right onto London Bridge where, although it was fairly wet by this point, there was not much wind. But that really kicked in at the lights just over the bridge, this being the point where I chickened, dismounted and walked the thing most of the short distance remaining to the Hop Exchange. And so to Borough Market, which having been a vegetable market, then a foodies market, is now showing signs of being a tourist attraction, rather in the way of say, Harrods or the once excellent cheese shop in Jerymn Street. But I bought my cheese and I bought a bacon roll, in which the seller offered to put some salad. What was he on? But I did accept some onions (the sort they put in hot dogs) which was just as well as the bacon while good, was plentiful and a little dry. Soft bap entirely ordinary, but entirely adequate. There was also some very good looking beef, in particular Irish or Scottish fore rib with a proper blanket of fat - sadly off the menu these days.

Quick inspection of the Shard, just about having time to take the snap included above of the pillars holding up the south east corner. Not terribly big, so perhaps there is some bigger concrete core which you do not see. Crowded tube to Tooting where there were quite a lot of very impressive puddles, but where I managed to make it to the 'Little' wine bar in Mitcham Road in time to share a very decent bottle of Austrian white wine. Must get back to get the name of it; getting quite keen on these northern whites. Place not up to a web site yet, despite getting lots of mentions in local directories of various sorts.

Entertained on the way home by a very small person of Jamaican ancestry eating half a corn-cob lollipop fashion. At two years old, she seemed to think it was just the thing.

PS: counting the cameras in the illustration is left as an exercise for the reader. I must look to see what the London Eye does with its all important guy ropes - not ever having noticed any cameras there.