Festal cheese

Bond

What turned out to be the last expedition to buy cheese in London before the festive season took place about ten days ago. Subsequent expeditions had been planned, but failed to materialise. A bright, cold day, with a cardboard box sleeper occupying a service door into the building above Epsom Station. On the platform, the advertisement snapped above told me that James Bond is not yet dead, despite having been around for well over half a century now. Not a bad run, but the whole thing seems terribly dated - all that glamour of wealth, secret services, boys' toys and girls, with the latter not quite amounting to one of the former - and I am reminded of the strange business of the dirty trade of spying being made to seem glamorous, a business commented on getting on for two hundred years ago in the book noticed at reference 1. One supposes that, having been published in May, the book went on to become the No.1 international best seller in the second half of the year, with the final twitch being puffed as a Christmas stocking filler for the good folk of Epsom.

Also on the platform, I learned that the train information must be driven by a sensor some way to the country side of the station, as my train was displayed as arrived some time before it actually pulled into view.

At Worcester Park, I noticed a house backing onto the embankment which had thought fit to dump its rubbish over its back fence. Not a thing I would care to do, let alone let the neighbours know that I was doing it. I wonder what sort of condition the house and garden are kept it? Are they like those travellers who lavish thousands on the decoration of and nick-nacks for the insides of their caravans, but are not in the least bothered by squalor outside the front doors?

No bikes on the ramp, despite it being some  hours after the morning rush hour, but there were some at Concert Hall Approach. There was also a cold wind, which I had not noticed up on the ramp. 10 minutes and 25 seconds to Drury Lane. The only incident being a youngish man on a bicycle with labels about 'pedal me' and 'oscar', with no road sense or manners at the Waterloo Bridge end of the Aldwych. Probably something to do with the people with the flashy web site at reference 3.

Bunga, bunga

The snap above being something in Drury Lane. Probably a bit expensive for us, so a quest for the New Year can be to track someone down who has been. See reference 4.

Cheese shop busy, with lots of Christmas staff running about. Lots of fancy cheese on the counter, but the supplies of Lincolnshire Poacher, while depleted, were holding up.

Map, top centre

Stanfords still at its old site in Long Acre, where I was able to buy a quite decent map of Everest. Big map on one side, little map on the other side, with all the various routes marked on it - with UK being Route No.1, naturally. And with some of the routes looking like seriously hard work. I was served by a chap, probably in his thirties, who looked as if he might well have been a climber himself - but he clearly hated having to earn a crust dishing out maps to armchair climbers like myself. It was as much as he could do to be civil, never mind helpful. Or was the trouble that he had seem me using by telephone inside his part of the shop? The German map I really liked the look of had been discontinued, and the one I actually got was from a consortium made up of the Boston Museum of Science, the Swiss Foundation for Alpine Research and the National Geographic Survey (US flavour). Some time later I was shown Google Earth's version of Everest, which while not the same as a map, must have satisfied a lot of armchairs, so perhaps I should count myself lucky that maps still exist at all.

Checked out a couple of the bookshops still left in Charing Cross Road and managed a couple of quite nice purchases.

Quick ham sandwich on the smokers' bench, as noticed at reference 5. Bit of a puzzle how I managed two on the last occasion, as just one on this occasion left me fairly full. I also clocked a rather odd round bump on a young lady's forehead, maybe an inch and a half across. She did not look ill, so lets hope it was nothing too serious.

Next stop South Lambeth Road, which took me 24 minutes and 29 seconds, getting a bit close to the half hour limit. For the first time for a while I found a use for the twine I carry in my trusty brown bag, that is to say to hang a small carrier bag from Rococo Chocolate around my neck, rather than stuff it inside the brown bag. Much more satisfactory.

Took me a few more seconds to work out the route from Drury Lane than it should have done, but managed in the end, and managed without going the long way round Vauxhall Bridge Road, which had been the first thought.

Northern Ireland Office (in the margins of the Security Service) being refurbished. Fierce cold wind which made me puff a bit going across Lambeth Bridge. Was the sandwich sitting heavy? Serious police road block outside the block containing the Archer Duplex and plenty of people were getting stopped. Wrong side of the road to stop and ask them what it was all about. Pleased to have all the cycleway stuff to get me across the Vauxhall Cross junction, otherwise a touch hairy.

The large BT building, mainly clad in stainless steel and with lots of dishes out the back, had come down and been replaced by flats since my last visit.

And so, following the visit noticed at the previous post in this set, to the Estrela Bar for a spot of tapas, the record suggesting that it had been a couple of years since I last visited. See reference 6. Whitebait. Pork and broad beans, what might be called Portuguese country fare - not unlike the carne y papas one used to be able to get in the obscurer parts of Tenerife. Cross slice aubergine cooked with something cheesy on top. Very good. Vinho Verde entirely satisfactory, once we had got through to the waitress what it was that we wanted. I was not at all clear where she came from but it was probably not Portugal.

Changed at Earlsfield. I can't remember whether I made it down to the Half Way House, but I do remember noticing the horns of the crescent moon pointing towards Jupiter. Except that they weren't, they were pointing in a direction several degrees above Jupiter. Spherical geometry a bit hazy by that point, and I was unable to work out which direction the horns ought to point, given that everything concerned is pretty much on the elliptic.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2018/11/a-last-outing.html.

Reference 2: https://www.anthonyhorowitz.com/news/story/new-james-bond-novel-forever-and-a-day-31-may-2018.

Reference 3: https://pedalme.co.uk/.

Reference 4: https://www.bungabunga.com/.

Reference 5: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2018/11/ham-and-cheese.html.

Reference 6: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2016/09/knights-in-armour.html.

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