Cheese pie

It was a cheese day, but a correspondent having supplied BH with a copy of reference 1, I thought I ought to take in a bit of secret London while I was at it. To wit, a chunk of the old London Bridge which has found its way into one of the courtyards of Guys Hospital.

A dull start to the day with the forecast of rain to come, and by 11:00 or so there was indeed rain in the air, although I would not go as far as to say it was raining.

I did not pass any trolleys on the way to the station and I could not see any scaffolding on the flats above once I got there. And having got onto my train, slept most of the way to London Bridge.

From London Bridge into Guys, where I soon found the alcove which had once graced the London Bridge of 1831 - the one built of granite from Haytor, to be found at reference 2. Was it from the small quarry just by Haytor Rocks? A secret which had been rededicated to Keats, who once did a year as an apothecary at Guys. One of those tiresome statues which portray the subject sitting on a bench, on this occasion together with my cycling bag, the one that fits neatly into the front luggage holder of a Bullingdon.

One of the outfits involved in commissioning the rededication in 2007 was the D'Oyly Carte Charitable Trust, which I now know from reference 4 to take an interest in medical welfare. Not just a G&S outfit at all.

There were a number of these alcoves on the bridge, for pedestrians to take a break, have a smoke or whatever. The back of one of them can be seen in the painting above, reference 3. Rather grander than the triangular alcoves they used to work into the much narrower medieval bridges of old.

The arches look very high to me, so I can only suppose the likeness was taken when the river was very low. Or we have a bit of artistic license.

The triangles of the Ouse Bridge of Huntingdon - which might not look very old, but which Wikipedia says is 14th century. Maybe they have been touched up a bit over the years: in any event, they give the idea.

And those of Holne Bridge, over the Dart, near Ashburton. Clearly provincials don't get full-on alcoves.

Ludwig Wittgenstein also did a year during the second world war as drugs porter and ointment maker at Guys. With a copy of his 'Tractatus' being behind me as I type - an edition in parallel translation from the German. A book which I dip into from time to time, but which I believe was serious meat for students of mathematics, logic and philosophy in the 1920s and 1930s. I wonder now if my father looked at it or even read it: the sort of thing in which he certainly took an interest, even if he lacked relevant training. I don't think there was a copy in the house when I was a child.

A hospital trolley which has not even made it to the Excel workbook which I now tell about the shopping trolleys which I come across.

Over to Borough Market, where I took a look at the fish stall. Was it a day for a couple of smokies? Sadly, I could only see what appeared to be shrink wrapped smokies which would not be the same at all, so not a day at all.

A bit further over there was a stall with quite a variety of plums, mostly foreign, but also some greengages. I remembered buying some rather overripe ones last year, as noticed just about a year ago at reference 6. Passed on plums altogether on this occasion.

Bought my cheese and then got a bit carried away by some creepers on top of a wall in Redcross Way, on my way to the Bullingdon Stand. How many different plants were involved?

Current thinking is at least three, including whatever it is that is producing the little white flowers. Which Google Images makes the ivy leaved toadflax of reference 7. 

Looks a pretty good fit to me, especially given the rather poor snap I was able to give him, cut out from the middle of that above, in which one of the distinctive leaves is spot on for the first leaf image in Wikipedia, included immediately above. Stems look right too.

The big leaves look to have big stems, so perhaps quite old. But I'll worry about what the other two creepers might be another day.

Pulled a Bullingdon and pedalled over to the Tea House Theatre at Vauxhall to see about lunch. Or perhaps a sandwich or something.

Full performance on the tea front. Rather good tea it was too. Enlivened by light classical musak, not very loud, copies of various magazines and that very day's Financial Times. Made a change to see a print copy.

I was pleased to find that steak and kidney pie was back on the menu, texting BH to stand down any meat and veg. that might have been on the stocks for later on.

It really was a very good pie, much better than might appear from the snap above. Perhaps the best pie to be had in town. Good pastry with plenty of meat - with my only small point being that, if I were calling the shots, I would have used a bit more kidney. Gravy good, with a reasonably delicate flavour, not like the usual stuff you get in such places. Vegetables very good, again much better than the usual stuff you get in such plates. Not least because they were not overcooked. A real napkin made of linen rather than paper.

All of which left me very full, which slowed me down on the stairs up to the platform at Vauxhall. Good job I had texted BH.

Short stopover at Raynes Park, still no trolleys at Epsom - not that I was looking very seriously - but there were some walnuts to be gathered on Court Recreation Ground, from underneath the small walnut trees in the hedge, quite near the vets which used to be the house for the groundsman and his wife. Are the walnuts fit to eat?

Not delved into beer yet, but I have read the Sorokin, a Penguin Modern Classic no less. on which I shall be reporting shortly.

PS: Monday morning: I seem to be dreaming a lot at the moment. This morning I had a pill dream when I first woke, a dream which morphed into a work dream, with what was then the Department of Employment at Watford. Work dreams being a fairly large category in my dream population - although I have stopped counting - maybe 15% of the getting on for 1,000 dreams with recorded content. But then, I suppose work was a large part of one's waking life and it is not unreasonable that it should get its fair share of dreams.

The pill dream was new and slightly alarming. I had just taken two large round, white pills which I had had to crush in my mouth to swallow - fortunately, they did not taste unpleasant. But I was worried that I had taken two in one go when I should have taken the second later in the morning. It was four a day altogether - out of my actual current complement of eleven a day. Then there was the problem of my weekly pill box with four slots to the day, with one of these pills taking up the whole of one of the slots. Was I supposed to be taking them at all? Had I got the wrong person's pills? I even went so far as to consult my notes - in Excel - about such matters. But by the time that I woke for the second time, I had worked out that this was all a dream and that there was no need to consult Excel for real.

Reference 1: Secret London: an unusual guide - Rachel Howard, Bill Nash - 2024. Jonglez Publishing of Versailles.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Bridge.

Reference 3: Old London Bridge - Joseph Mallord William Turner - 1794.

Reference 4: https://doylycartecharitabletrust.org/.

Reference 5: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Bridge,_Huntingdon.

Reference 6: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/10/the-bent-crane.html.

Reference 7: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cymbalaria_muralis.

Reference 8: https://www.teahousetheatre.co.uk/.

Reference 9: https://jonglezpublishing.com/.