Fulham and Putney; further flat-hunting; Easter weekend activities

Met Helen at Putney Bridge tube station on Saturday 16^th to go and visit Fulham Palace, the home until 1973 of the Bishops of London. I’d never heard of the place until recently when Mum mentioned it to me, but thought it might serve a purpose as somewhere vaguely cultural to head for. We had a lovely lunch in the very civilised Drawing Room Café before going for a poke about those of the Palace’s rooms that are open, including the Great Hall and various Bishops' sitting/dining rooms. A lot of the surrounding grounds, including the walled garden, seemed to be undergoing maintenance when we visited, but we managed to have a bit of a poke about. Rather nicely, the whole thing was free of charge (well, except lunch, which we had to pay for).

After leaving the Palace we walked along the Thames back to Putney Bridge, then along Putney’s Embankment for a while where we saw a blue plaque celebrating a Fred Russell, allegedly the Father of Modern Ventriloquism (as opposed to Ancient?). Wandered up Putney High Street and had tea at a nice café on Upper Richmond Road that I’ve forgotten the name of – although actually I think it was Wallace and Co - before going home from East Putney tube.

Two blessed Closure Days on 20^th and 21^st meant that I felt obliged to seize the opportunity to return to Milton Keynes for another assault on its rental housing stock. Ray kindly offered to drive me, which saved me a hefty train fare and allowed us to stop for a vile breakfast at Toddington services on the way – one to be avoided in future, although in fairness it did have a Costa which with the wisdom of hindsight, we should have used. (The 'comments' section on Toddington's entry on www.motorwayservices.info is amazing, especially 'Edna Browne's rant - seems somewhat obsessed (excited?) by the prospect of naughty goings-on in public toilets. I have to say I did visit the toilets and they didn't stand out particularly in either direction.)

Lined up viewings of 7 or 8 flats, although in the end we only ended up seeing 4 as I decided that I liked the second, a little c.70s flat-roofed one-bedroomed house in quite a cunning little development in Simpson, within walking distance of the OU and, almost as importantly, Simpson Village and a decent-seeming pub called The Plough, where we had lunch. As the rent is only £550/month I had assumed before seeing it that there was something wrong with it, but have concluded that’s just the difference in prices from Reading and probably the flat roof, as I understand these can put people off (philistines). Fascinating fact taken from Simpson's Wikipedia entry: apparently the civil parish of Simpson also includes West Ashland, which is distinguished by containing the national headquarters of Domino's Pizza.

Felt a bit sorry for the agent who showed us around the third and scheduled-to-be-fourth flats we viewed, in Wooton Court in New Bradwell (much too far from the OU but I'd booked the viewings in some desperation). The first of the two was still tenanted by a chap who had evidently just cooked up a big vat of boiled fish, as the place stank - this coupled with the fact that all the curtains were still drawn and half the living room was taken up with a c. 60-inch TV made the place appear more than a little oppressive. On our way to the second flat, in the same development, the agent saw fit to tell me that it had until recently been inhabited by a woman who had had to be evicted because she was "living like a tramp" and the place had been given an initial clean but wasn't totally clean as yet. Way to market a flat. I immediately had visions of a Life of Grime/Homes from Hell-type scenario involving rooms stacked to the ceiling with rubbish, and became rather less keen on the flat before I'd even seen it. Luckily, we were fated not to see it at all, as the locks had been changed and the agent couldn't get in. Eventually followed the poor sweating chap back to his car, chuckling inwardly.

Took Ruth out to Quattro in the evening to discuss CfBT’s latest machinations and make defiant plans involving much clinking of wine glasses.

Got the train to Abergavenny on the Thursday morning and was met by Mum, who immediately whisked us off to give Waitrose a thorough going-over. We then drove to Wormbridge to have lunch at the Galanthus Gallery and Café – lovely lunch; neither of us was particularly struck by the art on show but we had a polite peruse anyway. Returned to the house to have tea with Dad and inspect the cats – Emrys has lost weight recently and has been taken to the vet for a battery of tests designed to identify thyroid problems (common in older cats), but has been pronounced clean for the moment, I sensed almost frustratingly for Mum given the cost of the tests. Lydia also appeared somewhat slimmer than she was last year (something to be encouraged) though still a sturdy lass.

Another sunny day on Good Friday and we went for a pleasant walk up from Peterchurch to the top of the ridge looking eastwards down into the Wye Valley. Stopped for a picnic before making our way back down into Peterchurch past Greenway Farm (whoever owns it really needs to tidy the place up - farmhouse looked nice enough but land littered with abandoned cars, caravans and assorted random machinery) and down Mowbage Lane where Dad had a chat with a nice old chap about the flowers in his garden. Called in at the Nags Head for a refreshing drink before walking back to the car park in Peterchurch.

On Easter Sunday I started, with the help of the hot steamy machine, stripping the wallpaper off the upstairs hallway in the house. Came off pretty well. Inevitably ended up wondering why, since I’ve hated the stuff for the five years I’ve lived there, I haven’t tried removing it before.

Since Sunday until time of writing I have been, unusually, afflicted with a cold and sore throat, so the remainder of the Bank Holiday weekend was a little devoid of activity. Curse this frailty.

Jobs; (mini) jackpot; further adventures in Milton Keynes

Book Group met at The Back of Beyond’s beer terrace on Thursday – it was supposed to be at Tamzin’s house but she appears to have gone to ground. The sudden onset of summery weather enabled us to sit outside for the whole evening, though we spent more time discussing everyone’s job situation than discussing the book. Few of us had made the time to tackle the book, Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol – I may or may not get around to reading it. As probably the only person in the country who hasn’t yet read The Da Vinci Code, I should probably read that one first.

Very excited on Friday to discover an envelope from NS&I with a slip inside announcing that one of my Premium Bonds had won a prize. I bought £500 of Bonds a couple of years ago and, obviously, have been awaiting a large payout ever since, even though various people have told me that I probably don’t own enough Bonds to make that likely. Eagerly scanning the enclosed cheque told me that I’d won £25. Better than a slap in the face, I suppose. Didn’t think it was worth re-investing it in new Bonds so spent it on Amazon instead, as any responsible citizen would.

Outing to Milton Keynes at the weekend, with a view to having a scout around some residential areas within reasonable distance of the OU. Bribed Ruth to get an early train with the prospect of breakfast at La Taaza; after the usual great coffee and fried bread fest we made our way over to Euston and thence to MK. Managed to catch a bus from the railway station to Tinkers Bridge (suspect strongly that I am going to miss Reading’s excellent council-run bus system) and walked across Woughton Park to Walton Hall, the Open University’s campus. Crossed over and then into Kents Hill Park and more green space, before making our way to the first of the day’s flat viewings, a shabby little hole on the ground floor of a c.1980s block. Left feeling somewhat depressed and asked the letting agent the way to the nearest café or pub. After walking for a good 15 minutes, we eventually reached Walnut Tree¹’s Local Centre, featuring three takeaways, a Ladbroke’s and a Hungry Horse called the Tawny Owl, to which we reluctantly headed and stepped over the assorted Staffies and crying children to order a drink. Felt it prudent to order a spot of lunch as we had another viewing at 2pm, but won’t be doing that again – Ruth did manage to get through most of her disgustingly pallid-looking scampi but I rapidly lost appetite for my extremely dry Cajun chicken salad and just-about-cooked chips. Left, vowing never to set foot in a HH again, and viewed another flat in the same development as the first, also a no-go.

Headed north through Monkston and the new-and-posh Monkston Park and then, after a brief sit down near this concrete flyover, into Woolstone, presumably one of the older villages that was swallowed up into Milton Keynes. Nice, though getting a bit far from Walton Hall at that point. Proceeded to Willen Lake and the Milton Keynes East Premier Inn, which I had booked us into for the night. Discovered on arrival that we appeared to have booked into some sort of lakeside fun park, as the lake area and the pub adjoining the hotel were heaving with young families. Did the only possible thing and retreated to our room, where Ruth took a nap and I took a bath. Later that evening we had an acceptable lasagne in the somewhat ravaged pub – managed with some effort to find a table that wasn’t surrounded by discarded chips. Retired to our room fairly early and watched CSI.

On the Sunday we had a somewhat irritable breakfast (I say “we” – actually it was entirely me being irritable) before walking back to Central MK via Campbell Park. Stopped off at a Costa for me to have a cup of coffee to take away the memory of the weak brown liquid the hotel restaurant had served up earlier. After a trip to Hawes & Curtis for Ruth to stock up on some more shirts we made our way back to Reading. Bit of a question mark over MK at the mo.

¹ Another suburb. MK seems to specialise in cutesy/weird names for its residential districts: there’s another one called Coffee Hall.

Singing; graduation; free dinner

April here already. Spring, young things, etc.

Ruth and I met Helen S at a crowded Lyndhurst on Friday for an early-evening dinner before heading to Claire’s choir’s concert at the Wesley Methodist Church over the road. The Lyndy’s food seems to have improved since its takeover a couple of years ago; had an acceptable chicken Caesar salad, though couldn’t detect the presence of any anchovies – wish these weren’t widely regarded in the UK as some sort of controversial exotic foodstuff. Helen seemed remarkably cheerful after her first day post-redundancy; had apparently managed to sign on successfully and appeared to have enjoyed a pleasant browse around the shops. We headed over to the church and joined Claire’s mother Chris at some quite good seats up in the gallery.

The Witt Studio’s End-of-Term Showcase included a large and diverse range of pieces, many of them solos, some by the Witt Studio Singers – billed as a ‘virtuoso vocal ensemble’ – and some by the full choir, the Witt Studio Chorus, of which Claire and her friend Kay are members. Ruth enjoyed Louise Herrington’s rendition of When You’re Good to Mamma, from Chicago – great voice, but I can’t be doing with that sort of stuff. Nay to musicals, and thrice nay to Gilbert & Sullivan – what was all that supposed to be about? I think my favourite number of the evening was David Lay’s rendition of With Joy Th’impatient Husbandman, from Haydn’s oratorio The Seasons, partly because I enjoyed the title.

Up to London on Saturday to see Claire graduate with her BSc (Hons) in Psychology from the Open University. As the ceremony wasn’t until the afternoon I took the opportunity to pop in to see Hannah and her latest flat. Flat nice if cosy. Stanley, Hannah’s cuddly sheep, is still filthy but she is reluctant to try cleaning products on him. Excitingly, Hannah was due to be doing a photo shoot of a nude man later that afternoon, I gather for a new ‘erotica for straight women’ magazine.

Walked from Hannah’s to the Barbican where I met up with Claire, her parents, her sisters Tanya and Fiona and her old friend Ann. The ceremony lasted a couple of hours and was OK – speeches not too long; lots of raucous cheering of graduands – much livelier than any of my graduation ceremonies. Afterwards we took the bus to Covent Garden and had a couple of drinks at the Punch and Judy with its balcony overlooking the Covent Garden Piazza. The pub was, unsurprisingly, packed so we were forced to stand huddled in a corner of the balcony for the time we were there, though we did manage to find a stool for Claire’s flagging mother. We went on to the Covent Garden branch of La Tasca for a nice dinner, though Claire and Fiona were evidently disappointed with the refurb it had apparently had since the last time they were there. Sampled a Crema Catalana liqueur, which I discovered smells and tastes like Angel Delight, so not an experience to be repeated.

Ruth and I went for a very pleasant walk around Whiteknights Lake on Sunday, including seeing some adorable ducklings who couldn’t have been more than a few days old. Had a look around the cave-type structure at the top end of the lake, presumably built as a garden feature at one point, and a brief look at Foxhill House.

Got to try my hand a being a restaurant critic on Tuesday evening. Ray’s sister Sharon now works for the Reading Chronicle and is in charge of the restaurant review spot. Sharon is apparently becoming concerned for her waistline after doing a number of the reviews herself, so has started farming them out to family and friends. Ray and I were given a crib sheet in advance of things to take note of, and duly presented ourselves at the Himalaya Momo House in The Walk at about 7pm. Proceeded to have a very nice meal plus a bottle of house wine (a French table wine with a ‘Himalaya MoMo House’ label cunningly stuck over it) ENTIRELY FREE. I could go for more of this.