Borough

Last week to Borough to replenish cheese supplies and to pay a visit to that well known haunt of city types, once a bank, called the Barrow Boy & Banker. And to be fair to Fullers, you do get quite a mixture in there, truly from barrow boy to banker. Or at least the modern equivalent of a barrow boy.

The record

Set off towards the end of a bright, mild afternoon, rather milder than it had seemed earlier. No masks to be seen at Epsom station. My train arrived almost exactly one minutes after the platform indicator panel described it as arrived, a description presumably triggered by some sensor some hundreds of yards in the country direction from the platform. Why not put the sensor a bit nearer?

I was sitting on the western side of the train and the low sun was flashing as we went along. Which seemed to mean that, with eyes shut, one had a radially flavoured, a radially organised visual experience. Not exactly symmetry, but bright, flashing, multi-coloured stuff moving in and out from the centre. And whatever it was, it came from sufficiently high up in the vision system for it to be a single combined image from the two eyes. Perhaps an eye flavoured neurologist could explain.

Next up was the thought that maybe if one smoked, one would reduce one's chances of catching the bug. Point one: I believe that tobacco use was once promoted for its promotion of internal hygiene. Point two: use of drugs like heroin seems to either suppress minor ailments or suppress their symptoms. Addicts report all kinds of minor ailments as they wean themselves off the stuff.

And then I noticed that smoke seemed to be coming out of one of the four (expensively rebuilt) chimneys of Battersea Power Station. What was going on? Was this long running project actually nearing completion?

Pulled a Bullingdon from the pole position on the ramp and tried for the right hand side of the exit onto the roundabout at the Waterloo Bridge end of York Road - which on this occasion made for a smoother transit to Stamford Street than going for the middle, which has always seemed more correct, allowing for those people behind who want to turn right into Waterloo Road. A transit only marred by a twenty something male cyclist who cut straight into the roundabout from Waterloo Bridge without any regard for the traffic already on the roundabout. That is to say me - and I shouted at him as I find that I can shout much faster than I can ring the Bullingdon Bell.

Coolea

Parked up just short of the Shard and proceeded on foot to the cheese shop in Park Street. Bought my usual two wedges of Lincolnshire Poacher, then notice a great pile of flat, round cheeses. Inquiry revealed that they were made in Ireland by people from the Netherlands, so looking like a Dutch cheese was not a coincidence. Name of Coolea. They had a lot of it and I liked a sample, a rather bland, hard yellow cheese, so bought a small piece. Which turned out to be OK when fresh but going unpleasantly hard after a few days. I probably won't be buying it again. Fortunately, the Poacher was and is as good as ever.

Heavy cycles

On my way through the market, I came across these cycles, which looked very heavy to ride - heavy enough to be hard going, even for a young person, up-hill and not something for an old person at all. Never mind loading the thing up.

Still no face masks.

Picture hanging

Into the relatively quiet BB&B, quiet to the point of getting a seat, which was unusual. But things picked up a bit as the evening progressed, with the music being turned up at 1830. And with two youngish ladies sitting opposite us getting through a fair amount of wine. Not that I could talk.

But I did learn that specialist insurers who go in for business continuity insurance know all about plagues, an optional extra in such policies. An extra that some people were trying to buy into a little late in the day. Also that some city firms were going in for quite elaborate precautionary measures to try and maintain said continuity. The show must go on. Also that the up-front, sunk costs of putting on some of the big business shows - for example the annual mobile phone show in Barcelona of references 1 and 2 - can run into a couple of hundred million pounds. So one does take out insurance for them.

I admired the heavy brass rails used for hanging the pictures, a posh version of the wire I have strung along the top of two of the four walls on my study, wire which works well enough, despite forming parabolas deep enough that the picture hooks sometimes slide. Big brass rails would look a bit silly in the home, while the wooden picture rails that our house came with - mostly stripped out by our predecessors - are not as high as the wires. Maybe more discrete rails would be the answer if one was starting from new.

Climbed onto my second Bullingdon and wondered whether I ought. But reflexes kicked in and I completed the journey - a very simple & safe journey in the quiet of evening for the west bound bicycle - without incident - and knocking about a minute and a half off the outward journey time.

Coolea at home

Home to take a moon reading. During which I noticed that the moon, in the south west, was pointing down to the west, roughly to where the sun had been. Rather than the moon pointing up when it is in the south east. I expect to get to the bottom of that one shortly.

After which I enjoyed a spot of bread and Coolea.

Reference 1: https://www.barcelona.com/barcelona_trade_show/the_mobile_world_congress_barcelona.

Reference 2: https://www.mwcbarcelona.com/.