Tuesday last. Our original intention had been to meet at 6:30pm on the seats by Burger King on the concourse of Charing Cross station. But plans being dynamic things, I found myself at 7:00pm in Embankment tube station, beneath a notice proclaiming ‘strike Thursday’, waiting for Molly to arrive on the District line train from Hammersmith.
Molly was listening on her earplugs to a 1989 bootleg recording of DJ Chris Hill playing at a soul weekend in Prestatyn, North Wales. I had been working with John Dean that weekend and I clearly remember popping a blank TDK cassette in the machine to capture Chris Hill’s set. The other side of the cassette held a similar bootleg of DJ Froggy. It really is time to share these gems with the world via Youtube.
Back on Villiers Street we hastened to Fratelli La Bufala, where we sat in the window watching the world go by. The staff here are super charming. They do an excellent salad, accompanied by cherry tomatoes and a generous portion of olives. We shared a truly first class pizza. If I was being picky I’d have to point out that it was not actually the one we’d ordered, though equally vegetarian and baked to perfection. In conversation, Molly pointed out the lack of progress with this blog since Sebastian’s Swagger kind of petered out back in July. Hence today’s entry.
We sauntered back through Embankment tube station to take the steps up to the Golden Jubilee footway alongside Hungerford railway bridge. Here we crossed the Thames and walked a short way on the South Bank to watch the skateboarders. I spied a little mouse nervously scurry from bollard to bollard.
For pudding we visited Pain le Quotidien where we sat at an outside table this mild October evening and sampled their chocolate and citron tarts, helped down by spectacular hot milk.
Passing through a glossy magazine photo shoot we returned to Charing Cross via the Golden Jubilee footbridge, marvelling at the bravery (or foolishness) of the skateboarders who had clearly been using that stone podium in mid-river.
Molly owned up to thinking St Paul’s cathedral was in Paris.
Train home to Bexley.