Wombats at the Gherkin

Met up for lunch yesterday with Michael who works at the Gherkin along with Tim, from Zurich, and their colleague Jed. We went to Satu in Devonshire Square where the food was very tasty (stir fried salmon) and our waitress was very tasty too but the service was glacial (in speed not friendliness). Long gap between starter and main and 25 minutes from asking for the bill to its arrival. Not good for a quick business lunch.

Tim, ever since I have know him, has been given to using Wombat as a Metasyntactic variable (like some people use widget). I recently learned from The Jargon File that it actually stands for "Waste Of Money, Brains, And Time". I quizzed Tim as to whether, given his technical background, he was speaking Commonwealth Hackish. He denied this and said it was simply because he has s soft spot for this particular Australian marsupial.

Chateau Rieussec revisited

Having mentioned to Mary the excellent 1999 Chateau Rieussec I had with Wednesday's meal she dutifully obliged with a wine to top that. Saturday evening for pud we had baked peaches and to go with Mary produced from the "Cellar", with all the flourish of a magician's rabbit, a half bottle of 1988 Chateau Rieussec.

What a difference a decade makes! Even more gorgeous and, as expected, a darker colour but, what was not expected, distinct notes of toffee, even hints of dark treacle or molasses. Delicious, a fine way to round off a meal :-)

Snagging list

Seems to be a UK English usage. A snagging list details the outstanding and remedial work as a construction scheme comes to an end. Sometime the final stage payment is conditional on rectifying the items on the list.

We had Bob from Wessex Archaeology round yesterday to do a full structural survey. This is all part of the grand plan to "down-shift" to Italy in four years time. Part of that is selling Avon Cottage in order to clear our debts and reinvest.

We aim to make sure that the cottage is in tip-top condition for any prospective purchasers having it surveyed. We don't want any surprises. So whatever this structural survey shows we will use as a "To-Do" list over the next couple of years.

Tripe, nien danke!

Went to the Restaurant Brunegg last night and had a curate's egg of a meal. Having no German I had to guess at the menu and ordered a main course which I could work out came in a tomato sauce with potatoes. It turned out to be tripe!

Now liver I am OK with, likewise kidneys but tripe is beyond my offal horizon. So I ate what I could and had room for dessert for a pleasant change. A Toblerone based chocolate mousse (how very Swiss) and a glass of the only dessert wine they: 1999 Chateau Rieussec. And it was fabulous, absolutely gorgeous, everything a dessert wine should be. The only shame is I return home tonight or I would go back there tonight just so I could have another glass.

Airline tickets in the bin

Not necessarily a bad thing.

We had planned to spend the Bank Holiday weekend in Italy paying the next tranche of money and finalising the layout of sanitary ware in the bath room. The stone mason has started work on the first cone and has even provided some weathered stones from his own private store. This is to prevent the piebald appearance found in restored Trulli, so concerned is he to do a top notch job on such an unspoilt property. But this start was sufficiently delayed that the small amount of progress meant it was not worth visiting.



Part of the deal with low cost airlines is the gamble of booking far in advance to get the best prices. If we book closer to when our plans are certain the cost will have gone up. We fly often enough that it is marginal if it is worth paying the rearrangement fee. In this case there were no suitable dates in our time window and the October flights are not yet released so it was cheaper simply to chuck the tickets in the bin. Some you win, some you lose, but overall it is the cheaper strategy. Plus it has saved us a night at the Radisson SAS at Stansted, two days car hire and two nights in Lo Smeraldo hotel.

Instead we stayed home and worked in the garden. Over the last two weekends we have done good stuff planting plants, drastically pruning shrubs, re-felting the summer house, stacking the log pile, macro-weeding and other sundry maintenance tasks. All of which will make for a flower filled summer to look forward to.

Plastic urinals - whatever next?

Dateline: International Youth Hostel, Zurich

I normally arrive here about 20 minutes to midnight on a Monday night to collect the keys for the client apartment that is to be my home for the next two nights. Today, because it is a public holiday in the UK and I was originally going to be en route from Stansted to Wandsworth (see next post) I am on an earlier flight.

So that means time to (in reverse order) use the internet cafe here, have a beer and make room for the beer. It did not sound right as I peed and it was because they were plastic urinals. Such things I have seen at events and festivals but this was the first I have seen one that endeavours to imitate the proper porcelain. Which it did so convincingly that only the ear told the tale.

What a difference a year makes

This time last year, on her birthday, Mum was still in hospital full of tubes and painkillers, recovering from her Mother's Day emergency aortobifemoral bypass

Last night Ian and I went down to Farnham to take her and Dad out for a Chinese meal. She was well and cheerful one year on. It was good to see.

Born to Boogie DVD

Many thanks to Clare at The Sanctuary Group for giving me a complimentary ticket to the pre-release screening of Born To Boogie DVD at the Curzon Mayfair.

An excellent evening with a chance to meet up with some Tillers from the TillDawn Mailing list. Also in the foyer were Gloria Jones (Marc's girlfriend), Bill Legend (drummer), Harry Feld (Marc's brother) with wife and Geoff Blayldon (Catweazel).

There were some introductory words from the Producer and music producing legend Tony Visconti. Then 50 minutes edited highlights from the DVD followed by a few words from Marc's son Rolan Bolan. Watching it brought back memories of that era and a promise of a longer post and review later...

Me and the other Tillers had black tickets which meant we could loiter, pick up a small goodie bag and shake hands with Rolan and Tony. Then off to the pub for a glass of red wine and home.

[EDIT: 22-Oct-2021 - added photos]

Tony Visconti, Rolan Bolan, Mark McLellan.

Rolan Bolan, Mira

Tony Visconti, Rolan Bolan, Paul Wattam.

Rolan Bolan, Mira

Rolan Bolan, Tony Visconti, Paul Wattam

Tony Visconti, Paul Wattam

Bill Legend, ??, Rolan Bolan, Tony Visconti

Geoffrey Bayldon, Gloria Jones

Me and Paula Radcliffe

Friday I was thinking "Cycling shouldn't be this hard!" and cursing E.W.Evans servicing abilities. I even got off at Battersea to check the back tyre wasn't rubbing. The previous owner of the bike had changed the thin racing tyres for normal road tyres which means the gap between rubber and frame is very narrow. The quick release mechanism sometime slips and then friction occurs.

But not this time, so I puffed and strained the rest of the way to work, 10 minutes slower than usual, swearing I would call Evans and demand some after-service service. When I got to work I did a final QA of the bike and found that a front brake block was loose and I had been cycling with the brakes on. Whoops.

Mind you even at my normal speed it takes me 32 minutes to do the 6.4 miles which is 11.29 mph.

Paula Radcliffe did the 26.22 miles of the marathon in 2 hours 17 minutes which I make 11.48 mph.

So that means she can run for over two hours faster than I can manage on a bike for half an hour. That is fast!

Biggin Hill - downward spiral of despair

Well not so much despair, more like boredom. And I think it is probably stacked circles like a vertical packet of Polo Mints. But whatever. As Herr Captain made his spiel the only word I caught was Biggin Hill.

Frequent fliers will know that can mean only one thing: inbound congestion at LHR and Swanwick have put us on hold. So settle back into your Recaro seats as the Captain banks the plane sharply to the right and deja vu sets in as the twinkling lights of south east London far below go round and round and round and round like aviation's answer to Groundhog Day.

And then it ended and we were down. So that was nice.

Infrequent flier demotion

Dateline: Swiss Executive Lounge, Zurich Airport.

It is six months since I started my contract in London and they have just noticed. Within the space of a couple of weeks Hilton Honors have demoted me from gold to silver and Swiss TravelClub have demoted me from silver to blue. So, no more free booze in the Executive Lounge; like any of us are executives anyway!

So how come I am here? Well, I have so many Swiss miles that I will never use that I am slowly burning them on upgrades. The client will only pay for coach and so 10k air miles gets me a wider seat, a free meal and access to the lounge (and some passable Chilean Cab Sauv).

People always go on about leg room but at 5' 8" that has never worried me. It is the lack of elbow room in coach that bugs me. Trying to turn the pages of my book, flip the pages of the paper or munch my way through the meal with my elbows virtually stapled to my waist is the bummer. Ah, the expansive joys of Seat 5F :-)

Kamikaze cat prevention

Having a cat in a fourth floor flat presents problems as summer approaches and we want to open the windows. Apparently a previous occupant's cat did jump and survived unharmed but not something I would not want to even think about risking with Cleo.

Sunday was spent assembling some mesh inserts from Cataire Screening which fit the bill and the secondary glazing slots very nicely. Assemble it yourself aluminium frames with black nylon mesh (hardly visible) which temporarily replace the sliding glazing panels for some cool summer breeze.

Good value and exactly what we wanted: definitely recommended!

Cycling "en danseuse"

Many thanks to Stroppy Cow for introducing me to this delightful French expression for cycling standing up. Something I do regularly when I do not change down in time for the lights or find myself going up an incline.

The trouble is I find I need to do it more and more. I don't remember it being so hard when I used to do the 9.25 miles from South Wimbledon to Devonshire Square. Now I am only doing 6 miles from Wandsworth to Drury Lane and it feels like I am on an exercise bike from the gym.

So Wednesday I took the bike to Evans Cycles in Wandsworth for the full service. They dismantle, clean and re-grease all the bearings. Thursday and Friday cycling was no easier so it must be my body that needs the service :-(

Licorice on Bass

Listening to Devendra Barnhart as I walked up from Waterloo I was reminded not so much of Marc Bolan, to whom some of his early warblings sound similar, but more the folk tradition exemplified by Incredible String Band.

God, that takes me back. Saw them at Birmingham Town Hall in 1969 (or thereabouts). With David Fee. Whatever happened to him, I wonder? Songs like "The Hedgehog's Song" and "Way Back in the 1960s". And Licorice on Bass.

Ah, nostalgia! It's not what it used to be.

I come from a land down under

Maureen left for Australia 24 years ago, married Pete and raised three beautiful daughters. As a consequence we only see her occasionally. The previous occasion was Mary and my trip to OZ in 2001.

I missed seeing her at Marilyn's 50th last summer so it was good to meet up on Sunday. She is over with youngest daughter, Nathalie, for a niece's wedding. We met at Bill's where he over-catered as expected. The usual suspects from "The Birmingham Crowd" were there most of whom I had not seen since Denise's funeral including some I hadn't seen for ages like Steve Glynn.

We were able to squeeze in an extra meeting Monday lunchtime as they came up to the West End and I work in Drury Lane. So that was an unxpected bonus.


Maureen and Nathalie at The Crusting Pipe in Covent Garden.

* Down under by Men At Work

Piss up in a brewery

For the benefit of non-native English speakers: "Piss up" is a social event involving alcoholic drinks. "Couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery" is a phrase used to describe someone low in planning and organisational skills.

On Saturday I arranged for myself and George (the brother-in-law) to do the Youngs Brewery Tour while Mary and her sister, Sandra, did a day's pampering at The Sanctuary. It has to be said that I kept remembering then forgetting, remembering then forgetting to phone up and book it. It was not until Mary sent me a text message, "Piss-up in a brewery!", that I finally made the booking. Oh dear :-(

I can thoroughly recommend the tour. This was my sixth brewery tour but always interesting to see another. The real novelty was the stables tour to see the shire horses that pull the drays. They are *big* and friendly. Finished off the tour with an excellent pint of stout in the Brewery Tap.

Fail to proceed

As previously mentioned I do not run red lights when on the bike. I use them as an opportunity to a) get my breath back and b) look around me. London is not one homogenised urban sprawl: it is hundreds of once separate villages that the Victorian explosion agglomerated into a continuous habitation. My six mile cycle passes through a succession of micro-habitats from elegant to squalid and back again. Waiting at one set of lights I was reminded of a doubtless apocryphal tale told me by an ex-colleague... So he claims the Rolls-Royce user manual used to contain a paragraph along the following sentiments: "The Rolls-Royce does not break down. It may occasionally fail to proceed. Should this occur the owner should contact the service department and await assistance. The owner may wish to avail himself of this opportunity to acquaint himself with his surroundings."

Yours is no disgrace

Back in the saddle after a week off - evening social engagements and other feeble excuses - and I still get overtaken. This despite have swapped Mary's small wheeled folding bike for my [t]rusty old Claude Butler.

Passing the MI6 building I was, myself, passed by first a guy in yellow lycra, then some lardy-arse bloke, then a young slip of a girl (though the lycra suited her better!). Me puffing to keep up, caught up with them as they, unusually, stopped at the Embankment / Lambeth Bridge lights.

Then I saw that all three had the slick racing tyres and the proper, clip-into-place racing shoes. So they had the gear and, I suspect, had done this before. So no shame then to be overtaken by them and off I went singing to myself "Yours is no disgrace" *

* The Yes Album

Leaning Tower of London

Walking home from work of an evening over Waterloo Bridge I can be guaranteed a tourist or two taking pictures of the London Eye, Hungerford Bridge, the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. This evening I saw a novelty which made me larf.

Now if you have ever been to Pisa you will know it is mandatory to stand on the grassy area with your hands held up at an angle, just so. Then your friend takes a picture so it looks at though you are propping up the Leaning Tower.

Tonight there were a couple of young ladies doing the London equivalent: taking a snap so it would appear as though the one was holding a large vertical disc that is the Eye. Chuckling I went on my way.

First BBQ of the summer

Last weekend Mary decided we would have a barbecue this weekend come what may. Thank goodness it turned out nice. We had Bob&Lynn round; they brought starters and cheese, we provided four grilled sea bass. We did a sort of v. informal tasting: three different Verdicchios from us and two Vina Albali from B&L (Riserva '99 and Gran Riserva '97).

Most of the weekend, however, was spend draining and cleaning the algae-filled pea soup that our Brass Monkeys splash pool has turned into over the winter. Emptied and sides scrubbed on Saturday. Today I was up and in the pool at seven o'clock (on a Sunday morning!) scooping out the last of the primordial slime and cleaning the bottom.

But now it is all re-filled and sparkling with a dash of chlorine. Mind you I think I will wait for slightly warmer weather before again venturing my t*st*cles into the icy water.