Battersea beef

A week or so ago to Battersea Park, to check up on the Wellingtonia situation there, as recorded under the search key given below. An outing which incurred a Bullingdon penalty of £2, having misjudged parking up my first Bullingdon of the day.

A day which seemed cool enough to warrant taking a chance on the trains in the middle of the day being in working order, after the strike of the day before.

There was what looked like a passenger helicopter over Epsom, with a passenger compartment which looked rather larger than a minibus, but a lot smaller than a regular coach.

Entertained on the train by a group of four talkative (male) adolescents, on a day out to somewhere in London. I had forgotten just how much such people can chatter.

My first Bullingdon, picked up from Grant Road behind Clapham Junction, was a bit creaky in the transmission, but it served for my trip around Battersea Park, where apart from the trees already recorded, there were plenty of skimpily dressed young people, mainly female, out on exercise. Plus various small people out with their minders.

Mission accomplished, there did not seem to be a stand at the south eastern entrance to the Park, as I had thought, so I pushed past the dogs' home, onto the one at the Duchess Belle. And crossed the road to sample the fine new tube station there. Quiet at around 12:30.

The grandeur of the station was not matched by that of the rolling stock, which seemed rather tired by comparison. Although, to be fair, it was not brown wood and red seats.

Out by lift at Kennington. I had forgotten that there were still lifts on the underground - and I did not fancy the 100 or more steps advertised. Access denied to the modern replacement of the mostly bombed out church of St. Mary, so I was reduced to the Red Lion opposite. Which, as the barman explained, was a very old house, but the actual building was a 1930's Charrington rebuild in the mock Tudor style then fashionable. I used to like Charrington's ordinary bitter, a pleasant, light beer suitable for a session; no idea whether it still exists. I think the Red Lion is now an independent.

I rather liked the low door separating what had been the public and saloon bars. Maintaining a degree of segregation. Various other vestiges of the past, including the glass rack over the bar, which I thought had been banned by the hygiene people. Common enough when I was young. And I might say that my wine glass was sparkling clean - at least it was until I got my paws on it. Various interesting optical effects: someone with a proper camera could no doubt have made something of it.

On to the Estrela in Vauxhall for some of their beef slice stew. Substantial and reasonably priced. Workers' food. Followed by a rather good dessert. A dessert which came in a round cake format and you got a slice. Soft and slightly granular in texture, off white in colour. Involving passion fruit. Both filling and good. Wine also rather good - although I little irritated to find this morning what seems to be a mark-up of the order of 500%, which seems excessive. Didn't retain the relevant bit of the bill, so must remember to check the menu next time. In the meantime, we have reference 3. Rounded off with a spot of their excellent, pale whisky coloured aguardiente.

Arty, if not very helpful, snap of dessert. From the shell in which I associate to crustaceans. And to Simenon's sea urchins.

In the course of all this I learned that hospitality staff, for once, have got the whip hand. Hospitality establishments are struggling to get staff and are having to put up with people who only want to work odd shifts, to have smoking breaks, access to unscheduled leave and all kinds of other stuff. Given the unsocial hours, the poor pay and the temperature in most kitchens, perhaps it is about time. With the end game being higher prices and lots of places going out of business. What might be euphemistically called a necessary market adjustment.

Passed on this trolley outside Vauxhall tube station, thinking that Sainsbury's was a bit of a push in the still hot afternoon. 

Stopped off at Raynes Park where the snap of a bit of advertising hoarding above was intended, but failed, to add to my knowledge of three colour printing, for which see reference 4. A throw back to the days when I used to study the makeup of the pictures on the hoardings while waiting at Earlsfield Station, in the days before the invention of the aeroplane game. 

But not a complete failure, as zoom on this laptop does pick up some odd texture. Need to take another look at the hoarding in question. 

I also picked up a copy of 'Under the Sun' from the poorly stocked platform library. I think intended for older children, but BH has found it good for dipping in odd moments when one is too tired or otherwise can't be bothered with something more substantial. I think we have come across this sort of thing before, perhaps 'The Saturday book' - the sort of thing that you might have come across in hotel lounges, in the days when hotels had such things. See reference 5.

Wound up the proceedings at TB, just starting to crank into Thursday evening life. To the point where my table was reserved from 19:00 - the slip for which is just about visible above the book in the snap above. I assured the staff that I was not going to make a mess and that I would be long gone by then.

The elaborate, if rather ugly structure, holding the table up. Whoever worked the design up should, inter alia, have arranged things so that the hub ends of the four legs met in the middle, without leaving an sightly bit of hub on view. Perhaps softened the big ball with holes, a bit or trim or something. Readers are invited to have a go at the design, by way of an exercise.

A last snap featuring the find of the day, a BT strap for tying yourself to high places while at work, now hung in a prominent position in the study. I assume that the grey thing top left is some kind of shock absorber, although I have yet to puzzle out quite how it works. The BMJ right was much more accessible than I had expected; perhaps you have to go to the Lancet for the real stuff. While the magazine to its left, I think 'The Doctor', was more of a trade union magazine, more or less entirely given over to complaints about pay and conditions, with very little of a medical nature. One more problem for the truss to grapple with when she reaches the top of the greasy pole. Swap refugees + cash for Rwandan doctors?

PS: in the margins of this post, I was sent an email advertisement for the substantial document documented at reference 1. Arty photographs of the goings on in universities in the US. The product of someone at Elon University of reference 2. Interesting stuff, in more ways than one. I thought I would share, but baulked at the length of the web address, so tried for a pointer from my OneDrive (reference 1c), which may work. The rules have changed since I last tried this. Failing that, you can click on the appropriate button at reference 1b.

References

Reference 1a: What Teaching Looks Like: Higher Education through Photographs - Cassandra Volpe Horii and Martin Springborg - 2022.

Reference 1b: https://www.centerforengagedlearning.org/books/what-teaching-looks-like/.

Reference 1c: https://1drv.ms/b/s!AvPvDT7vzzpQh9BWdfLX3JgsmRKLog?e=OpLoDi.

Reference 2: https://www.elon.edu/. An tertiary institution - possibly what is called in the US a doctoral institution - which I think means an institution which, inter alia, is able to award PhD degrees - to be found in North Carolina, once mixed up with the United Church of Christ and with a campus occupying about a square mile.

Reference 3: http://adegademoncao.pt/en/.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/08/some-curiosities.html.

Reference 5: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Saturday_Book.

Group search key: bpa.