Padded beef

A day which stated with trying on the cricket pads which I had bought from Sports Direct to serve as shin guards when I was crawling around in the loft or up on ladders - when, for example, I prune our leylandii. Travis Perkins did not have anything suitable, despite my having heard of builders using such things, so cricket pads seemed a reasonably inexpensive solution. Perhaps not quite the thing for a professional, but hopefully meeting my occasional needs.

I had not been able to try them on in the shop as they did not have them in an adult size and a concern was that the straps would not be long enough. And so it proved to be, but that was soon fixed with a couple of bootlaces from my stash of same. Surprising how often one finds one has a use for such things.

Followed by a test drive up the loft ladder and into the loft. A bit clumsy but providing excellent shin protection. These light, modern pads with plastic inserts of some kind are probably a lot better for my purposes than the sort of canvas pads with wooden inserts which were the thing when I was young. Probably cheaper too.

And I might say that the young staff in Sports Direct were very pleasant and helpful. Furthermore, I managed to arrange things so that my telephone revealed my click-and-collect code. Slowly getting better at that kind of thing.

Later in the day off to London Town for a spot of Polish beef.

On exit from Waterloo, I managed to use the wrong half of my return ticket - the sort of flimsy which you show to a glass-topped reader mounted on the front of the gate - and having got in a muddle, caused something of a hold-up. Fortunately, there was a cheerful young lady behind me who did not seem to be at all put out and took it all in good part.

On my way to Mamuśka in the Sidings on the York Road side, I happened to notice the notice above the door of what used to be a lying-in hospital, possibly now part of the Premier Inn adjacent. With the carefully inscribed notice very much bringing to mind the notices about the licensees that used to be hand painted in white letters on black strips of wood fixed to the lintels of the front doors of public houses. I also associated to reading about how, at the end of the nineteenth century in Vienna, going to a lying-in hospital was a reliable way of catching some unpleasant - possibly fatal - disease in the course of giving birth - doctors not, at that time, having cottoned onto the idea of washing their hands between jobs. I don't think I ever found out if things were much the same here - but I dare say Gemini would tell me if I asked him.

At Mamuśka, started off outside with 500ml of Perła. Where I was puzzled by a small herd of young people kitted out in full evening gear: penguin suits and fancy dresses. What on earth were they up to anywhere near Waterloo?

Various points of interest beyond the beer. The interesting colours of the trim on the new building left. The capitals of the old pillars visible middle right. A reminder that architects of old understood that pillars looked better when topped and tailed. Modern pillars are not usually finished off in this way and often look a little awkward in consequence: our architects need to invent something to take the place of the fake Greek of old.

Then there was the matter of what looked like batteries sitting on the top of single decker buses. Thinking back to the framing of the bodies of buses - for which see, for example, reference 4 - how do the not very visible frames carry the weight of the batteries? Presumably quite a lot of weight.

Once inside, I went for cheek of beef, together with two portions of their rather good white bread. Didn't look like much of a portion, but with the bread it was plenty. A Polish version of hot meat sandwiches. Excellent!

Washed down with a shot of potato vodka. Which I think was a first for me. Taken with an inconclusive discussion, not the first for me, of how children and computers can say things which are true without having any real understanding of what they are saying; truths which are perhaps not grounded in enough relevant experience. Which can make them rather irritating. Perhaps it was a rather deep topic for a couple of Perłas - but a topic which I do intend to come back to. It is a matter of real interest.

The graffiti tunnels were looking well, if not quite as intimidating as the first time. Domesticated even; to the point of hosting a corporate bash for Matrix, very probably the people at reference 5. Despite the casual and relaxed ambience, sufficiently relaxed that student-bash-style receptacles were provided outside, they were taking names at the door, so we did not try to gatecrash.

It remains something of a surprise that the graffiti did not appear to be much defaced itself. Perhaps there is honour in the anti-social end of the art scene: OK to deface capitalist property, but not the work of one's own kind.

Approaching platform 1 at Waterloo, via the back entrance. I believe my companion worked out of the squat white tower behind the crane, more or less in the middle of the snap above.

Spectacular skyscape around the sun setting in the northwest around 21:00. Didn't last very long though. In that way a bit like the spectacular skyscapes around the sun rising in the northeast back at Epsom.

For once in a while, out at Earlsfield, to engage with a party of friendly young drunks who had managed to get on the wrong train. But they were not convinced of the merits of the Halfway House, where I was headed for a spot of red. My usual Valpolicella had gone missing, but I got  large glass of something red for a tenner which seemed fair enough.

Not being sure about the pillar - without a capital - snapped above, I trying hitting it. Solid enough and I could feel the reverberation through the floor, so clearly load bearing. Original cast iron from when the place was built as a proper boozer, before the area was gentrified?

While outside we had another large party of dressed-up young people. I may have seen them later on the town platform, although they were headed on foot towards Tooting when I first saw them.

Back inside, a cheerful lady of middle years from the Philippines. I could not decide who the rather bored looking young man she was with might be.

Back on the platform, I nearly scored a three from the town end of the country platform. Sky conditions good, but the ground level arrangements seemed to have changed and I failed to find a good spot, with good sight lines in both the relevant directions.

But there were some interesting clouds, which have come out fairly well in the snap above.

On the train, a young lady reading a copy of  'A City of Bells' with her mouth open. Which, what with one thing and another, led me to wonder whether one could work out what I was keying into my telephone from the movements of my mouth and face. Quite possibly, I thought - at least some of the time -if not terribly reliably.

The book turned out to be some kind of romantic costume drama by one Elizabeth Gouge of reference 6. Would she be the sort of writer that BH would go for?

More cheerful drunks at Epsom Station. What on earth was bringing them all out?

References

Reference 1: https://www.sportsdirect.com/.

Reference 2: https://www.mamuska.net/.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/11/keeping-trim.html. A previous visit.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2025/06/investigating-buses.html.

Reference 5: https://www.matrixlaw.co.uk/.

Reference 6: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Goudge.