Everybody needs a fish and chip shop within walking distance of their front door. Ours is on Brockley Rise and is called, ‘W*****s’ (censored by big brother). I’m not sure if the current owners are called ‘W*****s’ (censored by big brother – I don’t want any trouble) as they seem to come from China. They do a good fish and chips (the children’s cod is the favourite round our house) and chicken nuggets and curry sauce, so all the things you need for a good Friday night take away. Friends of ours would come around sometimes and we’d order our food which would always “take about 5 minutes” for the fish to fry...and then we’d sneak off to 'The *******' for a swift pint.
There are other culinary options available just a walk away. One of the finest Indian restaurants in the whole city is literally at the top of our road. It’s called The ‘******’ (censored by big brother) and they have a life-sized Tiger sitting just above the front door, ready and waiting to greet you. The food in the ‘******’ (censored – by you know who) is excellent and they are always winning all sorts of awards. It seems to be full almost every night of the week and they are legendary throughout all of South East London. People come from miles around. They went through a long stretch a couple of years back of modernisation and sorting out the decor so it looks really ‘lush’ now on the inside. We went there once a couple of years ago. I thought the chairs were uncomfortable and the bill for 3 of us came to almost £70. We order from their home delivery service now as we aren’t that adventurous with our orders (Chicken Tikka Masala, Chicken Korma and Vegetable Biryani with Pilau rice and Nan bread), but the food still tastes incredible and we usually have some left over for the next day’s lunch.
There’s also a fantastic Turkish Kebab place as well. They have an authentic wood burning oven where they bake their own bread - their doner kebabs are ace. Nice and spicy, not too greasy meat, and the vegetables are plentiful, luscious and of many colours. I’m only allowed to eat those when there isn’t anybody else in the house.
There’s the usual pizza joints and a little restaurant that seems to cater for families but has a pretty good menu. I think it’s run by some Italians. There are also a couple of excellent greasy spoons. The best one is called; ‘The Big Plate Cafe’ (the censorship thing is dull now) and sometimes I’ll go up there for a cheese omelette and chips and a cup of milky English tea which we like to call ‘British Rail’ tea in honour of the tea you used to buy on the old British Rail trains. We’re pretty well stocked then for food from around the world plus we have a betting shop, a couple of coffee cafe’s, and a few grocery stores to get the basics from. You can’t buy fresh fish, meat or bread so perhaps somebody could come along and open a bakery, a fish mongers and a butchers.
There’s also a trendy Tapas bar nearer to the station where all the young hip, single trendies go. It seems to be always full as well. There’s also a bar across the road with overpriced bottles of beer and a pretentious DJ playing hip trendy music. At night they have one of those bouncer types looking bored standing on the pavement. He’ll let you pass if he likes the cut of your jib. It’s pretty funny really because his responsibility seems to be to keep out the trouble armed with one of those velvet ropes strung between silver poles. I guess it gives the place a feeling of exclusivity. I prefer 'The *******’ (don’t you hate the internet police as well?) if I want to go out for a drink.
I should also mention that there’s another pub almost exactly between where we live and where some old friends live. It’s kind of in the middle of no man’s land, if you know what I mean. It’s okay but I prefer 'The *******’.
So we have a chippy run by some Chinese people, a Kebab joint run by some Turks, an Italian restaurant, an Indian place run by some Indians and the local egg and chips place run by some Ukrainians. A world wide culinary experience just a walk away!
Just a little side bar to the food story; we like to cook in this house and we have supported Jamie Oliver is his quest to be a multi - multi – multi millionaire by buying almost all of his books. Sadly we don’t seem to use most of them. What’s the point of having those cook books if you don’t use them? That’s what I say! We do experiment though and we’re always watching those cooking programmes on TV getting us all hungry and muttering things like, “ooh doesn’t that look good!” I got into the groove recently and pulled open a cookbook and decided to make a blueberry pie. Where did I get that recipe from? Not from pukka Jamie’s no no no – from ‘The Canadian Country Cookbook’ somebody gave us, probably bought from a charity shop.
For my birthday a couple of months back I got some lovely themed ‘Silver Jubilee’ merchandise, which I am really quite proud of as The Queen has been ‘on the throne’ for 60 years – amazing! They sent a bunch of boats up the Thames in foul weather to celebrate, now that’s real bulldog spirit I say. Apparently when she meets her subjects she asks each and every one the same question. “Have you come far?”
ReplyDeleteplasterer surrey
Toby, it's the old, blurry line between truth & "the facts." Sometimes, they overlap, but often, they don't.
Twenty-five years ago, I spent six months flat on my back with a dislocated disk, unable to much of anything but nap & read. One day, my once-a-week cleaning woman was dusting my bedroom, and she paused as she picked up a paperback copy of "Bleak House" that was lying near my sickbed. She looked at the cover, which showed a painting of a woman in an somberly decorated 1880s interior, then looked around. "Looks like this place."
The room in the painting was much more elegant than mine, but I took her words as a compliment. "That's a really great book" I told her.
She turned the book over & looked at the blurb on the back. "Is it true? she asked.
"Actually, it's a novel."
"I see. So it didn't actually happen?"
"Well, no. It's a novel."
She made sort of a face. "So it's just made-up storying..."
"Well, yes, basically."
She put the book back down & wiped her hands on her apron, like they were soiled and looked at me like I was a spoiled child. "Then I wouldn't be interested. I don't read things that aren't true." If she could have sent me to bed for the day, she would have, but I was already there.