pumpkinstrokemarrow

Yesterday to Mile End, from whence headed East and then down the Lea (what has the local Bromley got to do with its lea? What is a brom?) to the tidemills. Then down Limehouse cut to Limehouse, and then West to St Katherines. Across Tower Bridge to London Bridge and home. All very impressionfull. Impressed that industry in the Bromley part of London was thriving in the 18th century if not before. Now know that Limehouse cut is a shortcut from Bromley locks to Limehouse. That one can sail - or at least float - up the river from Bromley to Bishops Stortford, once a river port. Depressed by all the converted warehouses West from Limehouse: partly because the area was dreary with no street level life to speak of, partly because it reminded one of the days when we made rather more in this country (relatively speaking anyway) than we do now. This despite the fact that the warehouses were the predecessors of those giant distribution sheds in industrial estates we have now rather than places where anything was made. Had a walk along the river bank between Limehouse and Wapping, having found one working set of steps which the nannies had forgotten to lock up. Walked along the bank for maybe half a mile past several steps which were either locked or derelict so walked back again - nervous that it would get dark, the tide would come in and that the hoodies would come out. One gets more nervous about such things with advancing age. I wonder why they make no effort to make the beach available? Plenty of interesting detritus down there - lots of small bones from big animals and one souvenir scaffold clip.

Part of what little street life there was was convenience stores. But unlike the one near us run by a very decent subcontinental, the one we went in was run by a small herd of Italians, boasted a bar and a small restaurant as well as the shop operation. All very dinky with food served on very large white plates which might have come from Islington or Chelsea. BH had a very carefully made and splendid latte, with stripes, froth and so forth. I had some good Milan salami but wrapped in rather poor bread - probably one of those frozen baguettes you stick in the microwave. And one could not have a sandwich without there being a small heap of olives, lettuce and what have you to one side. At least there were no crisps. I wonder if they do such things back home? But a beer (Peroni?) made the package as a whole quite acceptable.

Also past the 'Prospect of Whitby' where, 40 years ago, I used to think it very cool to go and sing coarse songs. Didn't look much like I remembered it, having become a heritage pub. Also past 'Captain Kidd' from both below (where there was no water gate) and above. Perhaps near where Execution Dock used to be given the rather naff noose hung up in the yard.

Clearly getting too old for coarse. When we got home watched maybe two thirds of 'The English Tailor'. Decently made thing with an interesting story - but badly marred by it being found necessary to field a sexually agressive and rather coarse Piers Brosnam. Back to the days when spooks wore bowler hats and did not find it necessary to explete all over the place. And I seem to remember that mountaineers of the Shipton era used to pack Shakespeare in their bags to read at Camp XXIII or whatever. I imagine they now pack Nuts or GQ. Now does this reflect a change in the social class of mountaineers or a change in social mores or both?

A week or so ago to Atonement, which seems to be attracting much attention and gongs. This - with one jarring exception - managed not to be coarse. And it kept going with remarkably little action or story. The three actresses doing the heroine did well. But too long and too full of flash backs. The lurid digression to Dunkirk was largely unecessary. All in all a bit pretentious, too much pose. Too much of a costume drama - complete with a dollop of second world war home front nostalgia for those few old enough to remember. One could have done more to explore what a decently brought up, but clever and slightly dodgy girl, who knowingly (if without much malice aforethought or premeditation) does something awful at 12 years of age, does to make up. But maybe it will impell me to read the book - the author being quite a literary celebrity these days.

Last but not least, a new way to make chilli con carne. Take a pound of dried runner beans and soak overnight. Bring to boil and throw water away. Add more water and bring to the boil again. Throw that water away. Do it once more and cook the things for about an hour. Retain the water - because while one seems to need to boil off something from the beans one can overdo it and be left with next to nothing. Take a pound of chuck steak - in this case a fine half inch slice from Cheam, marbled with connective tissue and fat. Just the thing for a stew - cook for a bit in dripping. Add finely chopped onion and tomato. Cook for about an hour, adding bean water as necessary. 15 minutes before serving add beans back. 5 minutes before serving add mushrooms (mainly because large, two for the price of one packs from Mr S do not keep too well). Serve with freshly pulled January King and white rice. No chilli, pepper, salt or other substances needed. Except to lift the livestock from the January King.