New restaurant

A fortnight ago to a new restaurant in Whitecross Street, although the outing was billed as an expedition to St. Luke's at Old Street to hear a Spanish flavoured recital by Juan Pérez Floristán, thirty something Spanish pianist with plenty of action on the Internet, seemingly without his own website but with a Wikipedia page at reference 1.

A mild day and we opted for the route via Balham, taking in the water damage in the passage under the rails at Epsom Station. Presumably an awkward place to drain from above, so the water is going to find any weakness in the waterproofing of the passage.

On the way to the station, we had come across some more water damage, in the form of the collapse of a section of an important heritage wall near the top of Meadway, in the passage down to Court Recreation Ground, formerly Pound Lane. A heritage wall which must have soaked up a large amount of patch and maintenance money over the years. Buy such a wall at your peril! We understand that the various local heritage teams and the planning team have got together to set up a committee to decide what the owner should do about it all. While Lodge No.3561 (Old Epsomians) has agreed to provide meeting space and a chairman - their being known to be good at this sort of thing. The wall as previously noticed in passing at reference 4.

On the train, I wondered whether the proprietor (or proprietors) of the Metro and the Evening Standard contribute anything to the TFL and Network Rail coffers towards the cost of clearing all the litter he generates on tubes, buses, trains and elsewhere, in and around London.

Onto the tube at Balham, where our carriage was joined by two rather unsavoury looking young men with one of those drug dealer dogs. Perhaps not a XL Bully - there was a lead of sorts but no muzzle - but something of that sort and generally all rather intimidating. Perhaps they were off for a spot of grazing or worse in town, but whatever it was, they got off our City-bound train at Kennington, so at least we were shot of them.

We carried on the Old Street, in good time for the traditional bacon sandwich in Whitecross Street. BH took a couple of white toasts. I mused about where the Jerwood money - Jerwood Hall being the other name of the fine concert space in the body of St. Luke's - probably prompted by the drug dealer dog and getting in a muddle with the Sackler Foundation. But this morning I had more success than when I last looked more than ten years ago (see reference 2), and found that the Jerwood money came from a cultured pearl business in Japan set up after the second war and for which see reference 3. With the rather grandly named Arthur Wellesley L'Estrange Fawcett, the son of a parson, getting into the story as a stepfather. We are not told of any connection with the original Arthur Wellesey, aka the first Duke of Wellington. Or with Philippa Fawcett for that matter.

Onto into St. Luke's where we were not the only ones to be confused by the new seat numbering arrangements. We liked the music, not the sort of thing that we usually go for at all.

Afterwards to the Iskelé in Whitecross Street, of reference 5, opposite the Market Restaurant which I use for bacon sandwiches. I had thought that they were owned by the same people, but it turns out that while this had been the case it was no longer. The two establishments have gone their separate ways.

Reasonably busy, good atmosphere. Including a young and very cute baby to coo over. Wine entirely satisfactory, if not grand, but it comes from an outfit which does do grand; you can spend quite a bit with them. See reference 6.

Taken with hummus followed by calve's liver for two. Rather good, although I could have done with a third slice of the liver.

Followed up with a spot of tiramisu. BH took the pole with her Earl Grey, while I took the dessert wine right. Something from the Tokaji family from a small, narrow bottle, tasting something like a sherry. Good in small quantities.

Mixed history down the side. I suspect the second building on the right of being built along with the first, the windows looking very much the same. While the stone doorway does not seem to belong with the red brick above. Cozza Pizzas a semi-detached part of the Iskelé operation, off camera to the right.

More mixed history.

The BBC parked up outside the Barbican. I think I have used the Bullingdon stand left occasionally.

The plants in an art work, the plants which are an art work, have got a lot bigger since I last noticed them. Search failed to reveal the occasion, despite turning up a fair amount of Barbican, a place we were visiting a bit a few years ago.

Surprisingly narrow gap between these new builds. Presumably respecting the land rights on either side of some ancient alley.

Some rust art flying over the ruins of St. Alphage, not to be confused with St. Asaph, who names a cathedral in Wales. The church is not that ancient, having been built, according to Wikipedia, in the early sixteenth century. While, again according to Wikipedia, at reference 7, St. Alphage was the Anglo-Saxon saint, martyred by the Vikings, to whom Thomas à Becket was praying when he was martyred by some Normans, not so long after they stopped being Vikings.

At the time, I wondered rather about whether the rust gradually ate into the structural integrity of the flyover, and if not, why not.

While over breakfast this morning, BH claims that what I have snapped above is some remains from a neighbouring monastery or some such, with St. Alphage proper being more or less lost. All of which is confirmed at reference 8, which offers plenty more snaps of the ruins. But she did have the advantage over me, in that she had bothered to read the heritage plaque while I was playing with my telephone.

Street scene with cranes - and with concrete action below. Pleased to see that the sort of skip that was used when I was into concrete, more than fifty years ago, still sees action. Can be tricky when full and swaying in the wind.

A serious low loader, sporting plenty of axles.

Another interesting skyscape in the late afternoon, winter light. With the NatWest Tower, properly Tower 42 but never the RBS Tower, rather put in its place by whatever it is behind. I remembered this morning, that I once used to cycle right past it every morning, on Old Broad Street, on my way from Liverpool Street Station to Westminster.

And so to Moorgate, and from there to Balham. Many offers of seats on the crowded tube. Crowded more or all the way, despite a great exodus at London Bridge.

To a stopover at Sutton, where we picked up a couple of interesting looking books from the waiting room bookshelf - and failing to notice that we were supposed to drop a contribution in a tin for something or other healthy. The books turned out to be not interesting and have now been recycled.

Walked home from Epsom Station, in the course of which we got a good view of the moon. Waxing crescent at 40%. Direction SW. Altitude 52°. BH alleged that the bright object nearby was the evening star, that is to say the planet Venus. On what basis, I know not - while my guess of Jupiter turned out to be right. Direction SW. Altitude 46°. Apparently an astrologically important close conjunction of the moon with the planet.

References

Reference 1: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juan_P%C3%A9rez_Florist%C3%A1n.

Reference 2: https://psmv2.blogspot.com/2013/04/jerwood-2.html.

Reference 3: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Jerwood.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/02/trolley-639.html.

Reference 5: https://theiskele.com/.

Reference 6: https://cvne.com/.

Reference 7: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%86lfheah_of_Canterbury.

Reference 8: https://lookup.london/st-alphage-london-wall/.