Cheese

Last week to the cheese shop at Borough Market. Opted for the convalescent route, so lift to the station, train to Waterloo, train to London Bridge. The trains to London Bridge from Epsom being off due to industrial action.

A bright cool morning, so opted for duffel coat rather than full-on puffer jacket. Rucksack rather than my usual bag to give a bit more flexibility in the shopping department.

Slightly depressed on the train by a middling sort of couple of middling sort of years. The wife was engrossed in the part of the Daily Mail which came wrapped in some depressingly stupid headline about boat people, while the husband settled for the sports pages. But I looked at the wife, discretely that is to say, and thought I would not want to have to persuade you about anything: you look as stubborn and tiresome as they come. Hairdo to match. I have clearly do not have stomach to be a local councillor - whom, I believe, have to put in quality time dealing with such people.

Took a wrong turning coming out of the station at London Bridge which meant that I had a long walk. But it did take in what I take to be one of the older Guy's Hospital buildings, seemingly now part of King's College.

And to the right of this snap there was the hospital chapel, apparently the only Georgian hospital chapel in town. Very handsome it was to, although there was some water damage in one corner of the ceiling.

The thing bottom left, enlarged above, looks like a relative of the splendid coke fired stoves they used to have in Ely Cathedral, great cast iron things, for all the world like the cylinders of a giant motorbike. Subsequently converted to run on gas. This one, so the curate (I assume) said, ran on steam, so presumably Guy's Hospital has a massive steam pipe running around its older parts, just the the mental hospitals in both Epsom and Exminster. A not very good snap from Ely is to be found at reference 1.

But Bing does rather better than the Blog on this occasion, turning up their name, Gurney Stoves, as once used, I now know, by all the better cathedrals.

The entrance to the chapel, and the stairs to the gallery. Not attempted.

On into Borough Market, crowded, as ever, with lots of tourists and even the odd queue marshall. My usual Lincolnshire Poacher, plus a brick of Emmenthal from a proper stall, plus half a rustic from Olivier from a mobile stall.

I passed on the smokies on offer, which looked a bit damp to me. And I passed on the entire blue fin tuna, maybe four feet long, fresh from Cornwall.

I had noticed the house above on my way in from Waterloo East, and I decided that it probably never had been a public house. Just a convenient wall to carry an advertisement. It struck me, for the first time, despite having seen lots of them over the years, that the slogan might have been invented at the time of one of the world wars, perhaps directed at young men of military age. A brand of beer I used to like, particularly their Directors' Bitter, but not one I have seen in a bar for a while.

Pulled what turned out to be my first Bullingdon for a couple of months, on which occasion, I read at reference 2, I managed two. Maybe TFL will send me a boosting email suggesting that I need to do more. On this occasion, it took three goes to achieve a green light.

Travelled in company with a command vehicle from the London Fire Brigade, for all the world like a higher grade camper van with a red paint job.

Called in at the White Hart at Waterloo for a spot of refreshment, to find the place awash with festive lunches. But yes, they could fit me in round the back provided I did not sit too long. And no, they did have any of their speciality sour dough bread left - which might otherwise have done rather well. Even if it did cost seven quid.

Passed on Black Forest Gateau at the cake shop, Konditor & Cook, mainly because the one in the window was sold while I was thinking about it.

Passed on a ham sandwich at the café next door. After all, I was carrying a lot of bread and cheese, even if I had not thought to bring a suitable knife. Or a corkscrew. Next time.

Entertaining gentleman at Smith's took my money for a Guardian and a TLS. Much more fun than a machine. While outside, a lady in pink was throwing a serious temper tantrum at two patient policemen. Or perhaps community support officers.

Pie nostalgia at Vauxhall. But it did not get me off the train. Pie as noticed at reference 3.

Spanish ham nostalgia at Clapham Junction. Ditto.

Earlsfield. Here I got as far as getting off, to see what I could do on the aeroplane front. Took me a while to remember where the sight lines were, but then I scored several twos among the steady line of aeroplanes coming in.

Raynes Park Platform Library. The bookcase had been tidied away, but there were lots of yachting magazines and lots of copies of 'Gramophone', a magazine to which I think my father used to subscribe. I settled for a nearly new paperback novel, 'The Light of Day', by Graham Swift, now being read by BH. A chap who looks quite respectable at reference 4, just a few months older than I am.

Off at Epsom, where three young men spun some line to get them past the small lady manning the barrier. I am pretty sure that they had not paid and that they had no intention of paying - but the small lady, quite sensibly I thought, did not think she got paid enough to tangle with them. I saw them afterwards swaggering about outside the Tesco's outside, smoking and swigging away on their tinnies. And then into the Tesco's, perhaps for a spot of grazing there. Are the staff issued with baseball bats like the convenience store owners in Los Angeles?

Home to find that the Emmenthal had plenty of holes, which was good, but was rather too bland for my taste. Perhaps I have too used to stronger meat. Rustic below. And the TLS was far too literary - but a rather silly review article about a Rubens show at Dulwich did propel me to Dulwich - of which more in due course.

PS 1: the blog archive knows nothing of him, but it comes to me now that BH may have read Swift's 'Waterland' in the past. I shall check.

PS 2: if Hungary is going to be difficult, what would be so difficult about the other 26 countries stumping up the same money out of their own budgets, rather than routing it through an EU budget which Hungary is eying up? 26 tricky national legislatures? Think US. Hopefully, the UK is already doing its bit. Something else to be checked in the morning.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2018/11/cathedral.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/10/cheese.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/03/back-to-abbey.html.

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

Reference 5: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/12/piano-77.html. The piano in the chapel, previously noticed here.