A stroll in Cambridge

This being notice of the second day of our recent visit to Cambridge. With my first snap being useful bottle opener provided in our room at Travelodge - which might have proved useful in earlier times, but not on this occasion.

While on the way down to breakfast we noticed this delivery lorry for the Sainsbury's next door. Does Sainsbury's have access to some satellite which can read these numbers from up in the sky? Do they subscribe to some helicopter outfit which will look for missing lorries? What's wrong with satnav? The police have had such numbers on their vehicles for years and I had always assumed, without thinking about it, that they were for the benefit of police helicopters. Now I am not so sure. Something else to be chased up at some point.

Breakfast pretty good, better than I expected. Drinks from machines, toast from a conveyor belt toaster, hot things from containers, plus odds and ends. The bacon was rather good.

Then off up Rushtat Road, somehow completely missing the flats which had been the Argyll. And the Romsey Town Labour Club, reflecting the social origins of the area, before gentrification kicked in, had clearly seen better days. While the Standard, a public house from the same era, had become a Greek flavoured bar-restaurant. Visited the Romsey Recreation Ground and was impressed both by the expensive looking exercise equipment and that fact that there were working, decent toilets. Not something that we can manage any more at the much larger Court Recreation Ground here at Epsom.

Followed in due course by another bacon sandwich (for me), at the Relevant Record Café of reference 2, not bad at all. With only a light dusting of vegetables. I failed to inspect the hoard of vinyl downstairs, but the ladies managed the trip, without adding to our considerable and not much used collection of same. And to judge by the online catalogue, while it might have been an eclectic collection, nothing to make my plastic twitch.

Across the road to St. Phillips church, where there was to have been a lunch time concert, sadly cancelled. Their café sported a Cornerstone logo, this being the name of a rather odd, fringe church here in Epsom, the people at reference 6, but I don't think there is any connection. So by way of consolation prize, for the cancelled concert, we paid a visit to the new Central Mosque, as previously advertised at reference 5.

Quiet this Wednesday lunchtime, so perhaps a good time for the infidel to visit. A handsome building, for which the snap of the prayer hall above serves better as a souvenir than as an advertisement. Designed by the chap who did the London Eye and paid for, at least in part, by the Turks - it not being clear what the connection is. And a broad church, celebrating both the four imams of Sunni Islam and the twelve imams of Shi'a Islam. There was a pile of rather utilitarian prayer mats in a corner, so next time I will have to ask whether it is OK to bring your own prayer mat.

But maybe the one snapped above would be considered a bit ostentatious. Oddly, Google was much better at good quality prayer mats than Bing. No idea what a Saudi prince would use, but I do remember the proprietor of Nain Carpets, the people with a never-ending sale in Berkeley Street, in London, telling us that quite decent carpets were thrown in for free when Saudis bought expensive cars in one of the neighbouring showrooms. Didn't seem to value quality carpets.

From there a bus down to Regent Street, from where we strolled down Pembroke Street, passing on the museums there on this occasion - places which I believe have moved on a little from the dusty, brown wood cases of my childhood - although not, it seems, to the extent of charging for entry. Passing also lots of undergraduates who seemed terribly young. Passing also a species of white, tubular street light which, as far as I know, is peculiar to Cambridge. Instead of the museums, called in instead at the famous bun shop, Fitzbillies, for some of their Chelsea buns. These stood well, and went down well over the couple of days following.

And so to the Garden House Hotel, down by the river, for a spot of refreshment. Quite a swanky place, but not the high end provincial hotel that it still was when we stayed there, perhaps ten or fifteen years ago now. Furthermore, they had run out of the Trinity College version of crème brûlée - burnt cream in college speak - and I had to settle for a doughnut with just a hint of same. Which turned out to have cranberries in it, which are not warfarin friendly, so I did a swap with BH's jam version. Doughnut fine, but far too much jam. Their wine was much better. They also managed Calvados, although they threatened to put ice in it, but were foxed by Grappa - despite claiming to be a fancy cocktail bar. I didn't think to ask about Marc.

Not particularly comfortable, but there was a good view of the river and there was plenty of flannel. Prices reasonable.

Headed back to our hotel by way of Coe Fen, where we spotted what was probably a Wellingtonia, some way back from a wall with a blocked-up door, but forget to check when we were in a position to.

Into Lensfield Road, where we found that the Eagle, a once famous watering hole, had been rebranded. Not an improvement to my mind, but we did not test the interior.

Closed the tourist part of the day with a visit to the Catholic Church, dedicated to Our Lady of The Assumption and the English Martyrs. As I type, I wonder why the Welsh, the Scots and the Irish got missed out, but perhaps they were in a different province as far as the church was concerned. None of their business. A large place, impressive in its way, but to me it seemed rather cold and dreary. But there did seem to be plenty of life in the Polish contingent, as snapped above. And not all recent arrivals, as I recall at least two building workers who came over during or after the second world war. Very hard workers, both of them.

And so on to our hotel, at which point BH realised she had dropped a hearing aid, possibly in the Catholic Church, perhaps a mile or so away. I mustered the energy to walk back, it being dark and damp - but the slanting light brought up all the bits and bobs on the pavement and I was not without hope. And so it proved, with the hearing aid turning up just a few yards before I got to the church. Luckily no-one had stepped on it and it did not seem to be any the worse for wear.

Closed the proceedings at Bella Italia across the plaza. There used to be a branch in Epsom, which we used from time to time, now long gone. While this place catered for town and pensioners - that is to say people like us - rather than gown. Not edgy enough for them, but fine for us - although my chicken would have been better if they had not put so much Marsala sauce on it. Next time I will ask for it in a little jug, like they do gravy at Wetherspoons. No grappa, so I had to make do with Jamesons.

The following morning we did not spot any Wellingtonia from the Trumpington Street side of the Botanic Gardens, but they had planted some fine Carex Pendula in among the railings. And there was the further consolation prize of the Wellingtonia at reference 9.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2021/11/through-tunnel.html.

Reference 2: https://www.relevantrecordcafe.co.uk/.

Reference 3: https://www.stphilipschurch.org.uk/.

Reference 4: https://cambridgecentralmosque.org/.

Reference 5: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2021/11/gabions.html.

Reference 6: https://www.epsomchristianfellowship.org.uk/home.htm. 'Enjoying God together - all are welcome'.

Reference 7: https://www.fitzbillies.com/.

Reference 8: https://www.gardenhousecambridge.co.uk/.

Reference 9: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2021/11/wellingtonia-54.html.