Weather not too promising but took a chance and decided to pick up a Bullingdon at Grant Road Central, where, for the first time, I had some difficulty in getting started; the stand did not appear to have been interfered with, but maybe the locals have found a way. One does wonder about the wisdom of supplying such facilities to such an area. Also for the first time headed off to London up the Wandsworth Road, rather than taking my regular route through Battersea Park.
Where I found that the Plough, a quiet and decent boozer once associated with the adjacent Plough Brewery and more recently associated with Youngs, had been turned into a gastro pub. Also that the giant Sainsbury's, once the rival for flagship with our own Kiln Lane is well on the way to being demolished. But the dodgy looking solicitor offering criminal services was all present and correct; he (probably not she) survives.
Took a break at Vauxhall Bridge, resuming the ride at Millbank House, to park up at Pall Mall East, known to me as Cockspur Street. And so to the National Gallery to take another look at the current jigsaw (a reprise. See 16th November 2012 and 4th February 2013) . I get there to find that I had forgotten to remind myself of title and name and thinking that I was looking for the 'An Antique Love Scene' by Foppa. Not surprisingly this confused the trusties and having discovered that it was not Foppa that I was after, I had to have recourse to the information desk, who after a bit of faffng about came up with 'An Allegory of Love' by Garafalo, now consigned to Room E of the the basement, there being work going on in the main galleries. Room E did very well for a basement, with quite decent lighting. Pictures nicely spaced out and the room was quiet so I was able to enjoy the picture in peace. A rather better and more interesting picture than I had remembered, despite the lighting highlighting a vertical join just to the right of the middle of the picture. The chap was clearly interesting in painting cloth, flesh, townscapes and landscapes - and was good at it. But I also felt that the composition was a little weak, with him doing rather better in that department in the adjacent and even more fanciful picture of St. Augustine. I also continue to wonder whether cleaning old pictures does not overdo the contrast between background and foreground.
Back to Pall Mall East to pick up another Bullingdon to take me to Grosvenor Square, from where I hoofed it to Hedonism Wine (see 29th December 2013 and http://hedonism.co.uk/). This turned out to be a fine shop. There was a great deal of very expensive booze there, but there was also a great deal of less expensive booze, and from the few that I knew, no dearer than at Waitrose. A good selection of German and Austrian whites, if they could not manage Greco di Tufo from Italy, having sold out of the one line that they had carried. A good selection of half bottles, although sadly dented by an enthusiastic customer of the day before. And an Irish whisky coming in at around £3,000 a bottle. The shop was quiet and spacious with plenty of pleasant staff who knew how to help without being too pushy; so they got a sale. The young oriental lady - Chinese I think - who served me was very concerned that I was going to carry off my purchases on a bicycle - she had clocked the helmet - particularly when I explained that the technique was to hang the bag around one's neck using one's scarf. But she did manage to wrap the bottles up very nicely before putting them in a couple of what she described as 'deceptively sturdy' brown paper bags, one inside the other.
And so onto Brown Hart Gardens for the hot meat sandwich in the Benugo perched up on the terrace of the strange building there. I have never found out what it was although we did once glimpse some very serious, multi-storey electrical gear underneath (see October 27th 2010). Sandwich and tea for £5. The hot meat in question was a sort of grated pork, with quite a lot of vegetable and other flavouring, so one did not get a terribly strong taste of pork; not bad for all that. And the chairs were very similar to those first seen in a dining room in Tunbridge Wells, striking for their unusual and complicated tubular undercarriages. There were also some rather expensive looking fake trestles, fake in the sense that they were an arty bit of furniture rather than rough and readies for use at fêtes and such like.
I was concerned that the Ukrainian Catholic Church across the road was firmly locked and bolted (see back left of illustration). Where were the exiled faithful going to pray for the succour of their beleaguered nation on this important day?
Mission accomplished, tubed it back to Tooting for a fruit cake from Mixed Blessings, then bused it back to Earlsfield. By this time it was wet and the bus was crowded, mostly with brown people, but also with yellow, white and shades in between. I was pleased with how good humoured it all was; mixed race in the good sense of the word. One was pleased with and valued the diversity.
No aeroplane game at Earlsfield as nothing was to be seen and no snifter at TB as that was still being refurbished. Had to settle for the Cricketers where the house white was both cheap and drinkable.
PS: I had previously noticed a very odd smell in the morning in the glass which had held Jameson of the night before. I learned at Tooting that the Irish Gaelic for this odd smell is glaur, this despite it being the Scottish Gaelic for slime or mud.
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