Cheese run

Time to stock up cheese again, settling on this occasion for the Borough Market branch of Neal's Yard Dairy. Seemingly six months since I have done such a thing. See reference 1.

The record

Which record reveals a timing oddity, in that while in March the return run to Waterloo took a minute less than the run out, on this occasion the return took two minutes more. I should imagine that the level of alcohol was about the same on both occasions and I don't recall the wind being remarkable.

I was reminded on the way out that I find it is lot faster to shout at pedestrians looking to walk out in front of me than it is to ring the bell, which involves a hand movement. Probably more effective at short range too.

Something of a beginner at the dairy, which meant that my two one pound wedges of Lincolnshire Poacher were not quite as neatly wrapped as usual. Furthermore, one of them contained a flaw, growing out from the rind, which is now turning out to be rather bigger than I thought in the shop. Somewhere between an ounce and two ounces of cheese lost. Can't complain though; the standard of the cheese itself remains uniformly high.

Safe deposit boxes

Took the odd beverage in the Barrow Boy & Banker, between Borough Market and London Bridge, where I was able to admire the use of safe deposit boxes as décor. As noisy as ever on our side of the bar, while the bar staff, unusually, seemed very grumpy, more or less on a go-slow, with the exception of the pot man who seemed happy enough. Perhaps they were short handed. The customers were polite enough, giving way, going out of their way, to make sure that we were served in turn. And while waiting, I learned that a feature of the house was slicing the cucumbers into thin strips lengthwise for adding to cocktails, rather than cross wise.

Southwark Cathedral looking well on exit from the BB&B

Chained saucepans

Perhaps appropriate that the saucepans in the fancy kitchen shop on the corner of Borough Market should be chained against the depredations of passing city boys - given the cult status of cooking and the medieval practise of chaining library books.

Smooth enough run back to Waterloo, with just a mild panic on the ramp, by then two thirds full, having been seven eighths empty on the way out. I thought that the gear change was a knob on the top of the handlebar, and poked around for a few yards trying to find it, after which a motor memory kicked in and my right hand remembered the twist grip. Something similar once happened with my PIN for the hole-in-the-wall, when I could not remember the number but the right hand could remember what was needed to key it in - after which the number itself popped into mind.

Just caught the 2124 to Epsom. Entertained on the way home by various striking dressers, all female. No suitable opening in which to find out why three of them were carrying two skate boards, which I had thought of as a mainly male sport.

PS: I ought to say that the run back from London Bridge to Waterloo, Southwark Street then Stamford Street, is very quiet mid evening and does not involve any awkward junctions, unless you count the roundabout just before Waterloo Station. And, unlike driving a motor vehicle in similar circumstances, the person most likely to get damaged is me.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/03/cheese.html.