On Friday evening my wife wanted to go out to eat fish, so we took a walk over to the Dark Horse. They only had Salmon on the menu, however, which she didn’t fancy, so we kept on walking to The Bear. We’d been in there for a drink before, but this was the first time we would eat there. I chose Wood Pigeon with lentils and bacon, she went for Trout and peas (with something else that else that escapes me right now). It was pretty tasty. I’d never eaten Wood Pigeon before, and I felt a bit sorry because I think they’re pretty birds; but the weight of millions of years of omnivorous behaviour overcame that guilt.
Verdict on The Bear: Good. Not excellent, but good. An alternative to the Dark Horse if it’s faffy food you’re after. They’ve done a good job on the decor and the staff were attentive, but it’s quite far from my house and didn’t quite have enough to tempt me over there on a regular basis. Nice if you live nearby, though.
Saturday morning, and the sun shining through my bedroom window told me it was time to get the mop cut. So I headed on over to Cube — except, as I approached, I got a rather nasty shock; it isn’t Cube anymore. I began to fear the worst as I got nearer and saw that it’s now called Teamwork, and advertises braiding and other services; could it be that my hairdresser had joined the multitudes of Afro‐hairdressers in Camberwell? I needn’t have worried, as the staff and owner haven’t changed; only the name has. Inside it’s the same. I wanted to ask what prompted the change of identity, but my hairdresser was the stern Eastern‐European lady who intimidates me into silence. A good haircut, though.
Afterwards I met the wife in the rear courtyard of Seymour Bros, where we basked while enjoying a late breakfast. Then a walk up to Ruskin Park, where we sat and watched the ducks for a while, and noticed that work is going on at the former bowling green; does anyone know if it will be flower beds, or something else? To cap off a capital sunny day in the Capital we went to the Sun & Doves for iced cider in the garden.
On the way home we thought about buying a plant for a friend’s birthday, so stopped in Pesh Flowers. The wooden boards and the medley of aromas makes this one of the nicest places to pass a little time, away from concrete and cars. Unless you have a pollen allergy, I suppose.
And that was my weekend in Camberwell.
As you can’t have failed to notice, the Mayoral elections take place this week. I’ll be voting for Livingstone; not because I’m a dyed‐in‐the‐wool socialist, but because I think he’s done a good job in the last eight(?) years, with some truly bold attempts at sorting out the transport problem. He’s not perfect — which politician is? — but I think he’s better than the alternatives.
Johnson is not a Londoner, and the peak of his experience is running a magazine, not one of the largest and richest cities in the world. Add to this the fact that his policies don’t add up; there are lots of promises, but few mentions of how they are to be funded or implemented. Paddick suffers from the same problem everywhere except on crime, which he understands better than transport or housing.
On top of this, there’s the fact that I’d love to bloody the nose of the Evening Standard, who have run one of the most negative, biased campaigns I’ve ever seen, against the current mayor. But hey; that’s just me. You go ahead and vote with your conscience. But if you do vote for Johnson and he does get elected, you’re never allowed to make jokes about Americans electing Bush ever again.