Embassy

Not satisfied with the view from the train, I decided last week that it was time to take a closer look at the new US embassy, in among the forest of flats in tower blocks in Vauxhall for those with money, or at least for those who aspire to money. So off to Clapham Junction in the now usual way.

A mild overcast day. A day when plans for veggie Wednesdays were maturing, not that this had any bearing on the day ahead. A plan for one day in the week when I ate no meat, no fish, drank no alcohol and did not use my credit card. A day dedicated to our collective need to do less and to consume less. Still thinking about dairy products - and now, a week later, one such Wednesday achieved, supported by a cottage pie involving quorn.

The regular bearded indigent had taken up his seat outside the station by the time I arrived. There was also a large party of school children heading back to school after an exciting trip to down-town Epsom. Presumably the two rides on a train were all part of the fun.

While opposite me in the train was a gentleman of middle years in unusual costume. Green jacket vaguely tweedy. Check shirt. Tie. Two brightly coloured hankies in top pocket of the jacket. Poppy on the lapel. Fawn trousers. Blue check socks. Brown shoes. Heavy glasses. Slicked down thinning hair. With the Daily Telegraph crossword for entertainment, rather than a telephone, which I did not see. I don't remember whether he had the entire newspaper or he had just cut out the crossword page. Altogether a curious specimen. 

Out at Clapham Junction and headed down to Grant Road, where there were just a few Bullingdons to be seen. Red lighted on my first attempt. Thinking of the failure noticed at reference 1, moved into emergency planning mode. But on this occasion, the second attempt succeeded, and I was able to pedal off towards Battersea, gears clicking gently, past Wetherspoon's 'Aspidistra', a house I have not used for quite some years now. I may even have been there with BH. 

Just taken a little while this afternoon to track it down as the brain had slipped away from 'Asparagus', which was the proper name of the place in question. Both quite long words, both naming plants and both starting with an 'A', so I haven't completely lost it. See reference 2 for the real thing.

And eventually found my way to the embassy. No signs that I saw and no simple access: reduced to threading my way through various alleys, towers and buildings sites in roughly what I thought was the right direction. What does HE - one Jane Hartley - do when she turns up in her limo? Or perhaps she jogs to work?

All looked much better than I had expected from the view from the train. I think the main entrance is right, grand enough in its way but without conspicuous signage. Two police vans to the left, with four armed police loitering in front of a back entrance.

The expensively landscaped path to the loiterers. I refrained from attempting to ask them where the front door was.

More cladding.

Ornamental ponds. I think the yellow awnings mark the only R&R facilities for the hard worked diplomats. Otherwise, they are going to have a bit of a walk.

I thought I had read of a protective moat, but this was the nearest thing that I could find. With tasteful lettering in the stone off-snap to the left telling us that this was indeed the embassy. And not only was there no moat, there was no other security, loiterers aside, that I could see. No marines at the doors or anywhere else, no cameras, no trip wires, no nothing. There didn't even seem to be anyone working in the building, even though there were quite a few desks to be seen. No queues of wannabee citizens outside. Presumably all of these things were to be found if you knew where to look. 

I don't suppose I shall have an occasion to visit properly, as my visa still has a couple of years to run and travel of that sort will be even more unlikely in a couple of years' time than it is now.

Pictorial evidence of presence. Complete with the shopping bag I use on these occasions: by Osprey out of TK Maxx. Going strong for more than a decade now - it must be a good brand.

With a small version of one of those natural grasslands which are all the range with public & television gardeners these days. Often called, quite wrongly, meadows. For a larger example, see reference 4.

And so on to the Griffin Belle in Wyvil Road, busy with lunching blue-collar engineers and a barmaid down. Some big plastic bags full of meat on the bar, presumably fairly fresh out of some meat wholesaler's van. They were still there when I left.

All the big screens were showing a cricket match, possibly involving New Zealand and Pakistan. A big stadium in any event, and lots of fans were getting pretty excited about. Excitement which has always been a bit of a puzzle to me. Fortunately for me, the sound was low to the point of absence. There was also some rather flashy fielding, including one chap who dived for the ball close to the boundary line, did not manage to grab it, but did manage to pat it into reverse, thus stopping what would otherwise have been a four.

And so on to the Estrela Bar, where I had exactly the same grub, wine and aguardiente as last time, as noticed at reference 1. Still warm enough to eat outside, albeit with duffel coat and scarf.

Discussion about whether it was better to back English manufacturing by buying one's shoes from an English (or at least UK) company or better to help developing countries along by buying theirs - which are apt to be much better value for money. In my own case, I think my Merrell's trainers are sold to Cotswolds by a US company which sources them from Vietnam. Cotswold Outdoor, partially rebadged as Outdoor and Cycle Concepts, is a private limited company which started life in a provincial garage. But I have failed to find who owns it. A subject last noticed at reference 5.

My own view remains that we in this country are living beyond our means, and that selling our real estate off to rich foreigners is not a much better solution than running up a huge national debt. Time to get our wages more in line with those of the rest of the world, so that we remain reasonably competitive and can afford to buy all the stuff we can no longer mine, grow or make ourselves. Not least food and energy. Possibly involving making our own shoes from our own leather. And becoming less dependent on the shenanigans of bankers, lawyers and accountants - otherwise the financial services industry - to balance the books.

There were also reflections on the terms of abuse, often used by those of the left, 'imperialists' and 'reactionaries'. Imperialists being a bit incongruous in the mouths of Soviets, considering that they presided over a country largely built on land grab in the 18th and 19th centuries, of lot of which - particularly the cold bits - have still not been handed back to what is left of the native populations. Or the Chinese, for which see reference 6. While reactionary has become a term of abuse for people of the right, having drifted a long way from its possible origins in the reaction against the French Revolution. The counter reformation, as it were. But just one of the many words, the literal meaning of which has little connection with usage.

A block of flats near Vauxhall Station. On what is perhaps its third overhaul in the thirty years I have been passing it. Making it to the interior at least once.

[SGI-Dominican Republic's fife and drum corps. On March 20 2022, SGI-Dominican Republic (SGIRD) held a hybrid general meeting at its culture center in Santo Domingo commemorating the 56th anniversary of the forming of its first chapter and the 50th anniversary of the founding its fife and drum corps. At the meeting, new national-level leadership appointments were made. Eiji Nishio and Victoria Kimura were appointed as vice general directors, and Ruriko Tamate as women’s division leader]

An interesting haul at the Raynes Park Platform Library. The arty pamphlet at reference 8. A 2003 number of the magazine of the Institut de Myologie of reference 9. Two numbers of the house magazine of Soka Gakkai International, a mainly but not exclusively Japanese operation which includes a charismatic founder and an enthusiasm for formation marching and fife and drum bands. Although neither aspect figures large enough at reference 10 for me to find good pictures in 30 seconds, with the best I can do being the snap above. A task for later.

Home to find the wine already noticed at reference 7. We may open the first bottle tonight.

PS: in an interval of penning this, a second memory failure. I had been looking for a couple of days now for the plastic key card which started life in a slot at the back of my BT router, removed for safe keeping. Needing it in order to reactivate our dormant smart television, I had been fairly sure where it was, but I looked there and no good. Looked in various other places, no better. Looked in the first place again, still no good. Looked in various other unlikely places. Eventually decided that it must be in the first place. And the third exhaustive search turned it up. The failure, rather like that with the book at reference, was down to my looking for a plastic card the size of a credit card, whereas actually it was about half that, maybe 50mm by 10mm. In fairness, I ought to add that I had taken a picture of the keys and was able to find the picture. We were not television lite for days on end.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/off-air.html.

Reference 2: https://www.jdwetherspoon.com/pubs/all-pubs/england/london/the-asparagus-battersea.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/08/some-curiosities.html.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/07/blooming-moat.html.

Reference 5: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/09/trolley-535.html.

Reference 6: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/a-trip-along-amur.html.

Reference 7: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/more-complications.html.

Reference 8: Some suggestions for the work of Francesco Salvati, with comments on his relationship with Pellegrino Tibaldi - David McTavish [of the École Française de Rome] - 2001.

Reference 9: https://www.institut-myologie.org/en/. Seemingly the study of muscles and their problems. Nothing to do with mushrooms, spelt slightly differently.

Reference 10: https://www.sokaglobal.org/.