Cheese, wine and hummingbirds

Isn’t it always the way, that something almost on your doorstep is often not somewhere you go as much as you should. You mean to, but never quite get there. And that’s true for us and the wine bar in our London village. It’s been there a while now, and may even have changed hands, but we finally went along and had a relaxing evening.

It was a busy night there though, with live music which added to that. Thankfully we’d booked which was just as well as the people arriving in front of us were turned away, or at least had a bit of a wait for a table to become available. Our table was towards the back of the wine bar, which was great as it meant we had a good spot to watch the to-ing and fro-ings from the kitchen and were able to soak up the atmosphere of the live music but still manage a conversation.

Rather than opt for a ‘proper’ meal - and by that I mean a main course we decided on a more informal approach choosing cold cuts, a bistro salad, bread and a cheese platter - and a bottle of wine or two. It made a pleasant change to sit and chat, and reminded me of nights gone past spent in a wine bar in Covent Garden, which is probably no longer there - and probably hasn’t been there for a while.

But of course, I couldn’t leave without checking out the loos - which weren’t quite what I expected. In my mind’s eye, they would be typically French matching the atmosphere and decor from the wine bar downstairs. But they weren’t, they were full of hummingbirds with a modern touch - and I loved them.

The cheese alone is worth going back for, and I’m pretty sure this won’t be our only visit. Somehow drinking wine and eating cheese feels so much more relaxing when you’re out, maybe it’s as simple as knowing you don’t have to do the washing up!

Remembering nature on our doorstep

It’s all too easy to forget what’s on our doorsteps isn’t it? Even though in lockdown and since we’ve stayed relatively close to home. For us it’s easy to remember Greenwich Park, and of course Blackheath. But even so there’s bits of those we rarely visit. A few weekends ago now, we took an overly long walk to the shops around the corner. Partly to get out, and partly to see something a little bit different as cabin fever started to take hold, and of course ultimately to pick up supplies.

It threatened rain, but didn’t quite manage it. It had been raining and there was a distinct whiff of autumn in the air. The wet leaves were golden, and glistening started to confirm this.

We headed into Blackheath, stopped for a long overdue look at ‘my tree’ and then headed on into the private estate for some serious house spotting - something we did often when we first moved to the area - then through Blackheath Village and our plan was to go onto the shops. However once we were out, and as the rain was holding off a new plan was formed.

We were very tempted to stop for a pint in the pub edging the Heath (which you may know as Blackheath Common - something we never call it), but we didn’t. Instead we headed straight for Greenwich Park, entering through the gates you see runners streaming out of on Marathon days, of course, sadly not this year though. Turning right we were in the Flower Garden and it wasn’t long before the fungi on the bark had me curious.

It really was a peculiar pale pink colour. It’s not just a reflection of the brightness from the flowers below, which despite their raindrops were ever so vibrant.

As it was a day of unplanned plans, we made another unplanned move. Instead of taking our usual route to the shops, we headed into a part of the Heath we rarely visit, and which we refer to as Vanbrugh Pits. It’s a wilder space, with a huge dip in the middle. It’s not open, and not somewhere I’d walk through on my own.

But it was worth the detour. I’d forgotten its wild side, and forgotten the gorse it was home too.

It’s just as well we’d forgotten about this though, or else you’d be experiencing many, many more gorse shots here. I’ll try to resist, well at least a little.

Remember 'my' tree?

It’s been five years since I last dedicated a post to ‘my’ Paulownia Tomentosa, which is crazy. I mean five years. Though of course you may think it slightly more wacky for me to be writing about a tree, and to call it mine!

But anyway, on our long walk to the shops the other Saturday we ended up walking past the tree which I followed for a year. And it was kind of nice to be back, a bit like visiting an old friend, though of course it hasn’t really gone anywhere (nowhere at all in fact) and I could have stopped by at any time.

It was strange, yet familiar, to be back. The straggly, tall branches. The leaves as big as your hand.

But also, for possibly the first time fruit, or buds. I wasn’t sure which. Surely not buds though, as it was late in the year.

So if they were fruits, had the tree flowered? I suddenly felt cheated!

But who knows?

The other noticeable change was the large, flowering rose bush behind the tree. There’d been a climbing rose there before, I’m sure, but not as large as this.

As we headed past, as was customary, I looked over my shoulder for one last glance, and couldn’t resist a final shot for comparison.

I’m sure, if I was clever, I could make all sorts of comparisons, to many parts of life, relationships and more. But you know what, it was just nice being back.