Cheese no beef

A slightly muddled day, the result of various changes of course during the antecedent 24 hours or so, with the last change of course being made when I was already on the train to London Bridge. This last not being the result of careful planning, rather a Waterloo train having been stuck at Epsom since around 08:00. A cheerful couple of chaps minding it thought that London Bridge was a much better option.

And I had cheated on the way to the station, for once in a while accepting a lift rather than hoofing it. On arrival, bearded indigent still absent and the ticket office was firmly shut. In fact, no staff to be seen at all, apart from the aforementioned train minders.

Borough Market very crowded again, and on this occasion I passed on both bread and greens, sticking to the main business, that is to say cheese. With the usual Lincolnshire Poacher being augmented with a spot of Gubbeen (from west of Cork). I also passed on beef, a visit to the butchers of Borough having been on the cards at one point. But more of that in due course.

Having got my cheese, I gave thought to options. Perhaps I would have made my mind up quicker over a beverage. Fortnum & Mason to inspect their meat department? Tooting? Soif? White Hart at Waterloo? Foreign ham at Clapham Junction? In the end I settled for the Half Way House at Earlsfield, a house I had not visited for some time, possibly my first visit since November last year, noticed at reference 1.

Took the pole position at the ramp at Waterloo and was tempted to change my mind at Clapham Junction, both on account of the ham and the good aeroplane spotting, but didn't.

More indecision about a snack at the Half Way House. I almost settled for a child's dish, but then took something called a chicken club sandwich. Which turned out to be a three decker affair, tied together with a couple of wooden skewers and which defied decent eating, except with the knife and fork provided.

Lightly toasted white bread, quite good. A lot of chicken. Bacon, lettuce and tomato. A moderate amount of white goo, not quite either salad cream or mayonnaise, at least not as served at Epsom. But it did serve to lubricate what was a very large sandwich. Large enough for BH and I, had she been present - despite looking a lot smaller in the snap above than it did in real life. Perhaps I had taken too much breakfast.

Not bad at all, if not as good as the bacon and egg sandwich which they used to serve a few years ago.

Passers-by outside much the same as always. Young. Fairly diverse. Working classes less visible than in Epsom. But lots of young women togged up for health & fitness activities. And just the odd grandmother with charge of grandchildren.

By the time I got back to the platform, there were a few drips, which failed to turn to rain. My folding umbrella had done the trick. No aeroplanes.

By the time I got back to Epsom, there was a chap on the gates, but the ticket office was still empty. Apparently they had gone to lunch.

Later that day, I discovered a way to make pictures on my HP laptop visible on my Samsung telephone, using gdrive rather than OneDrive. A little clumsy, but it will do for the odd occasion that I need it.

But I failed to guess what 'pierre à fusil' was. Irritating as flint seems obvious enough once you know.

While BH had come across a special trolley, as at reference 3, being used. Not a convenience for the person in the chair at all, rather a convenience for their minder - it being a lot easier to push a trolley linked to a wheelchair than not, given that you were pushing the wheelchair already.

PS: what sounds very like the Surrey Police helicopter buzzing around outside while I type this. Maybe, once again, it is keeping an eye on the evening goings on in nearby Court Recreation Ground, no doubt a den of adolescent iniquity.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/a-visit-to-tooting.html.

Reference 2: https://www.gubbeen.com/.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/08/trolley-584.html.