The Chandos

The week before last, one of my occasional visit to the Chandos in the north eastern corner of Trafalgar Square. An establishment I may have first visited with my mother and BH for lunch in what was then the first floor dining room in the long interval of an Easter performance of Bach's St. Mathew's Passion at the Festival Hall.

An establishment which is probably named for the Chandos family, a family from up north which first came to prominence in the service of the Black Prince. The title fell into abeyance, but revived for a descendant through the female line for services to Queen Mary I. The coat of arms on the pub signs does not appear to bear any relation to the arms for either the first (above) or second creation (to be seen in Wikipedia), but they do seem to have got the right motto (not the one above), so I dare say I am missing something.

It being my first evening in town for some little while, I prepared with a substantial lunch of potato pie, taken with Brussels sprouts and a spot of Huxley in the Bedford biography, a biography which survived the cull noticed at reference 1. I learned that while Huxley loved to talk, his wife loved to drive fast cars. It seems that Huxley's books ran to a custom built Bugatti from Turin, with extra leg room in the passenger seat for Huxley's legs - he being very tall. In those days you went to Turin to collect it from the man himself. Followed by siesta.

I had forgotten to charge my telephone, so I thought to take the spare cable should a plug offer itself. And as it turned out the proper eight coach red & yellow train from Epsom was defective and we had a four coach white and cream train instead, but one which came with plugs by every seat. At which point I discovered that I had brought the Kindle charging cable rather than the telephone charging cable. Not allowed enough time to come round properly after the siesta.

But I did learn that plenty of young people got their news by scanning the headlines and pictures offered by the likes of Microsoft on their telephones, without bothering to actually read anything under those headlines. Nothing so old-speak as paying for news or bothering to read it. Looking at the pictures is the way ahead. Is it any wonder that we have the problems just noticed at reference 2?

Strolled across Hungerford Bridge to find that the Chandos was rather crowded downstairs, with all the wooden booths taken. But I made my way upstairs where there was a window seat where we could wait the few minutes until a table became free.

Good atmosphere, mainly young people with an arty tinge to them, possibly of a stage or creative bent. And it was surprisingly cheap, given the location. So thanks to Sam Smith's.

Along the way I learned that at least some people do use most of the 20 odd gears on their bicycles - while I use just two, and one of those for more than 95% of the time. I have never been convinced by the theory that one should maintain cadence for maximum traction - but it seems that most serious cyclists are so convinced. However, I doubt whether I shall change the habit of a lifetime. Not least because I think my hill climbing days are over: I very much doubt whether I could still make it to the top of Epsom Downs, never mind Box Hill. Which last, I should say, I have never attempted in the course of our thirty years here at Epsom.

Thought about catching a train to Waterloo East from Charing Cross, but settled for the walk when I discovered that, contrary to what I had thought, not all the trains from Charing Cross stopped there. And I certainly did not want to be carried off into the wilds of Kent. With the bonus that I was reminded of the fine view from the bridge that you get at night. There were also large numbers of young people milling about, both on the bridge and on the south bank beyond, with some of them displaying a fair amount of flesh, despite the cold.

Arrived at my platform to find a new-to-me contraption, seemingly some kind of gate control unit. But I have yet to work out what exactly it might do. 

Climbed onto the train to watch the performance of a young lady who just missed it. An irregular or she would have known that once the doors are shut at Waterloo, they stay shut, complain as much as you like. There may be a spot of flexibility out in the country, but not there.

PS 1: there is also the question of the overdue visit to the Chandos Chapel, properly the Chandos Mausoleum, which I first learned of in the course of the outing to St. Luke's noticed at reference 3. Said to be open on Sundays and quite near the Canons Park tube station, on the Jubilee line from Waterloo, albeit quite a few stops. No excuse at all.

PS 2: there seems to have been another sneaky update from Microsoft. If I walk away from my laptop, I now seem to have to do a CTRL+ALT+DEL to bring it back to life, rather than just hitting return or clicking the mouse. An older person might have taken rather longer to work this out. Cursing the meanwhile.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/01/huxley.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/01/choices.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/06/chandos.html.

Reference 4: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chandos_Mausoleum.