On Saturday night we took a stroll through Camberwell Green in all it’s post‐midnight glory.
We’d been out in Waterloo to see some friends off on a long trip; drinks were at the Arch One Bar & Grill, a cavernous space dominated by an enormous TV screen. Table service from a charming waitress, Caipirinhas £7 each. £7! For rum, lime and sugar! I didn’t have one, I just noticed the price.
1.30am and we were walking through the Green in pursuit of a late night treat: a chicken kebab from the Golden Grill. They’ve been open since 1979 and are very proud of it, displaying the date on their blue uniforms. I think they show fantastic patience to cope with the demands of their core clientele, the drinkers of the Silver Buckle next door.
Kebab in hand, we stopped at one of the multitude of off‐licences further down Camberwell Church Street for a drink worthy of accompanying the food. One of the owners, an elderly Asian man, was laughingly fending off the agressive, insistent statements of a customer who was claiming he had seen the man’s wife dancing naked.
Back on the road to home, past the Funky Munky which was it’s usual twitchy, noisy self, we had to quickly cross over to avoid a group of five men who were rolling around on the floor and trading punches. After we’d skirted them I looked back and they were laughing together, with their arms around each other as they headed Buckle‐wards.
We got home and opened our meals; the ‘small’ kebab could have fed the 5,000, it was so big. That’s why the Golden Grill have been around since 1979.
The next morning I went to buy some orange juice and I was confronted with this:
I think it’s a little unfair.