Kensington

Time for a spot of Polish last week, so off to South Kensington.

The log

A warm and muggy day, but as it turned out, not wet.

Off the train at Clapham Junction to find no Bullingdon's in the large stands at Grant Road, although to be fair they were not as big as they once were, with some space taken by building works and some taken by charging points for electrical cars. None at the stand opposite Este Road. Pushed on to behind the Latchmere before I found a stand with a couple of Bullingdons present, just outside my ultimate destination, the Daquise, as it happens. Perhaps the Mayor of London is having a pop at the PM by withdrawing maintenance funds from one of the latter's various achievements as Mayor. In this case by no means a white elephant, or a complete waste of money like his buses and water cannons, but expensive nonetheless.

A little early so took a stroll around the French Quarter and a fizzy water in the public house at the end of Bute Street, the Zetland Arms. Which I remember as a proper boozer in days gone by, now tidied up and flying under the Greene King flag. Still seemed like quite a reasonable place, should I have been taking on pints of bitter.

Back to Daquise where we had a very decent lunch. For me, stuffed eggs to start, a chopped egg confection served warm in the shell. Followed by pork medallions served in a fine sauce, with extra bread needed to mop it all up. Followed by apple fritters; excellent once I had scraped off the forbidden cranberries. A perfectly respectable house Sauvignon Blanc to wash it all down with. In fact better than decent, an excellent meal, very reasonably priced.

A lady of the same sort of age as ourselves at the next table. A lady who had been some kind of a music teacher and who probably lived nearby. She started to tell us about the strange power words had over her, the strange power of individual words to move her for good or ill. Unfortunately I now forget the details and I ought to have paid more attention.

Sat outside for a bit watching the world go by. Altogether a pleasant place for a visit.

Pulled the second Bullingdon from the stand right there, as mentioned above, and pedalled off to St. Luke's church, just off the Kings Road, a large and early example of Gothic revival. See references 2 and 3.

The East End

The west end

The India chapel, perhaps also the Lady Chapel

The east end seem to have been stripped of the usual altar furniture, perhaps reflecting the fact that this handsome church was far too big for current needs. I do recall there being a sanctuary light, but all I can find now is the lit, red candle to the right of what might otherwise have been the lady chapel, but which was actually mainly devoted to some part of the Indian Army - and I had a wave of nostalgia and sympathy for all those men (and their families) who did what they saw as their duty in the far northern reaches of what is mostly now Pakistan.

Commemorative glass

It seems that one had to be a half colonel or better to be allowed to dedicate a pane of glass in the chapel. Perhaps these were all the chaps who came home at independence, leaving the other ranks to get on with it, to make out as best they could in the new Army of Pakistan.

The banner

The banner of General the right honourable Hastings Lionel The Lord Ismay KG, PC, GCB, CH, DSO, late P.A.V.O Cavalry (F.F), deposited here by his widow. Bing tells me that: 'In 1903 the Punjab Cavalry regiments were re-numbered to fall in line with the cavalry regiments of Bengal, Madras, Hyderabad and Bombay so that the 1st became the 21st Prince Albert Victor's Own Cavalry (FF)', where the FF stands for frontier force. What used to be called the north west frontier. With the general being remembered primarily for his role as Winston Churchill's chief military assistant during the Second World War and his service as the first Secretary General of NATO from 1952 to 1957 (according to Wikipedia).

The Union flag to its right flew for many years over Brigade Headquarters Kohat. See reference 5.

Fortified railway station

Bing could not find the brigade headquarters, but it could find Thal railway station, maybe 100km west of Kohat. A place which seems to be beyond the reach of Street View. With thanks to reference 6.

While this evening I am reminded that one Gerald Valerian Wellesley had the living, bridging the transition from Chelsea Old Church to this one, from 1805 to 1832. Brother to the Wellesley known for winning the battle of Waterloo and having iron shutters put on the windows of his house at the Hyde Park end of Piccadilly to stop rioters chucking bricks through them. See, for example, reference 7.

Grand pews

Some rather grand pews, rather left over, at the west end. Working class versions of the rather grander, possibly contemporary, pews in the choir at Westminster Abbey. On which, see the remarks at the end of reference 8.

Former graveyard

Somehow, the church has managed to convert what was presumably the graveyard into rather a handsome, if small, park.

Fig emporium

Pulled my third and last Bullingdon to pedal off back to Clapham Junction. Called in Battersea Food & Wine for some of their fine figs, to find that the fig harvest in Turkey had failed. I had to settle for some Turkish Delight and some of their fine, floppy flatbread instead. The chap in the shop, rather to my surprise, said it had been more than a year since I had been in, although checking the archives this morning suggests that it is more like two years.

Terral as Lully

Across the road to the Red Cross shop where I was able to continue my conversation about figs, the lady there having one in her garden. I also acquired a DVD of Blessed doing Lear and another of Terral doing Lully in 'Le Roi Danse'. Which last turned out to be very good value at £1 and on which I shall report fully in due course.

No aeroplanes at the Junction, but I did score some magazines at Raynes Park; another clutch of glossy ladies' magazines from Pakistan - that is to say Pakistani editions of western magazines - and a newsletter from World Horse Welfare. The first contained the usual collection of fancy ladies and fancy goods, some bust and leg and very little in the way of Islamic dress, beyond a lot of space being given to very lush and expensive looking fabrics. From where I associated to the 16th and 17th centuries when rich people in the west spent huge amounts of money on their clothes - with a lot of this going on fabrics - with a fake example of same being snapped above.

I was interested, given reference 11, to find that the second included an article about horse euthanasia from a horse lover's point of view, euphemistically described as end of life planning. Those requiring more information about this should consult the 'Just in case' pack, available from the horse welfare people, at reference 10. And I read that, according to their research, 7 out of 8 horses are euthanised, for one reason or another. One wonders how much of this is to do with money: a horses are expensive animals to keep if one is not getting any work out them. And in the days when there was lots of horses, the knacker was a recognised profession. George Orwell knew all about them.

A bonus was picking up a paying for newspaper in the train, albeit only a Daily Mail. Decided against walking home from the station which was just as well as there was a very sharp shower; heavy if short. Enough to get very wet if one got caught out in the open.

Reference 1: https://daquise.co.uk/.

Reference 2: https://www.chelseaparish.org/stlukesandchristchurchchelsea.htm.

Reference 3: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Luke%27s_Church,_Chelsea.

Reference 4: http://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/piano-20.html. Notice of the piano scored at St. Luke's.

Reference 5: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kohat_Brigade.

Reference 6: https://www.dawn.com/news/1336123/.

Reference 7: https://psmv2.blogspot.com/2015/06/apsley-1.html.

Reference 8: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/east-pole.html.

Reference 9: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/11/church-muddle.html.

Reference 10: https://www.worldhorsewelfare.org/Just-in-Case.

Reference 11: http://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/dignity-in-dying.html.