Ripe London

Bar One

My friend Andrea often goes to a bar on her own for a glass of wine.  I’ve always thought this was brave.  I go to movies on my own, live on my own, moved to a different country on my own, have plenty of gelato on my own; but sitting in a bar alone always seemed weird and slightly scary.  Since I don’t drink very much, bars to me are a place to meet.  Bars are for socialising, right?  They are certainly not for reading, as I discovered. 

I only went because it was too loud in Caffè Nero and too crowded in Starbucks.  It was me and my book, and we had nowhere to go.  I nearly gave up and went home just as I was crossing Abingdon Road.  And then I remembered: my favourite bar is in Abingdon Road.  This was quickly followed by another thought: I’ve never been there on my own.  And then another: wine would actually be much better right now than the peppermint tea I was about to have.

So I made my brave move.  I sat at the bar and had them pour me a glass of Spanish Rosé.  It was a large – The Abingdon only serves it this way.  I felt the cool warmth of it under my tongue and settled into my book.  I was starting to feel quite proud of myself.  But by the time I got through half the glass, the words in my book looked like little squiggles I had to keep looking at.  Over and over again.  Ohmygoodness.  I was drunk.  And on my own.  This was a first. 

Books and booze don’t mix, at least not when you’re a featherweight like me. Although it was fun, I’ll admit it.

The Abingdon is at 54 Abingdon Road, W8 6AP.  Sticky toffee pudding would have helped.

Rain Check

No discussion of London life would be complete without a decent grumble about the weather.  It is a nation where sunglasses and umbrellas are never mutually exclusive, and the employment of forecasters is one of life’s great mysteries.

My theory is that the UK’s extra-long Easter weekend break is actually a sympathetic move designed to give you, at most, four hours of sunshine spread over the four days.  Here are a few things I’ve learned about dealing with the British weather:

If it is sunny, drop whatever you are doing and go outside.  This means you should never foolishly assume that if you wake up to a blast of sunshine you can plan a day in it.  You take whatever you can get.  So get out.

People-watch.  The unpredictability of the weather has an amusing effect on fashion.  Today I saw a young woman in a parka and gloves walking alongside a septuagenarian in pleated, belted shorts and a baseball cap.  Clearly even years of experience under temperamental skies don’t count here.  And neither does reading fashion magazines.

Don’t take long trips during the summer.  London is marvellous mid-year.  There is a special buzz on the streets from the genuine excitement of being able to sip Pimms in 10pm daylight.

If you happen to be out around Central London when the inevitable hits, take cover at Gordon’s Wine Bar.  Despite its eternal popularity, you might miss its discreet entrance as you walk down Villiers Street near Embankment station.  Once inside, you’ll see how lucky you are if you manage to get a table.  Mind your head as you walk into the dark, cave-like space.  Gordon’s has been here since 1890, and you can feel it.  Share a bottle and ploughman’s lunch (two kinds of cheese, a baguette, pickles and chutney for £6.95).  Should the sun peek out coyishly again, you can perch in the garden.  Just be prepared to duck inside at a moment’s notice.

In case you’re wondering what’s in the picture: it’s the Black Forest Cake I made in last week’s class.  I had briefly set it down—in my handy plastic pet-like carrier—moments before a fellow student accidentally tripped on it, transforming its carefully-piped chantilly crème and arranged fruit into a messy, wind-blown affair.  So I’m calling it Black Forest Après Impromptu Storm.  It's so much easier to blame everything on the weather, you know.