Day 4: Elephants, Castles, Turnips and Staffies....

Another early morning wake-up call (4.45am) from our neighbourhood songbird, who we have downgraded from nightingale/lark to starling/Indian myna. 

This morning we caught the train to Elephant and Castle, then walked to the Imperial War Museum. It's quite a stately building so this... um...monument in pride of place out the front was a tad puzzling:

It's a chunk of the Berlin Wall (from near the Brandenburg Gate) that an acclaimed graffiti artiste (known as "Indiano") was commissioned to daub with his spray can and perhaps a paintbrush.(Jeez. Why? Was my first thought.) It even has a bronze plaque applauding Indiano for his artistic genius. "Change your life"?? About as profound as "Change your underpants". Pffft.

But otherwise the War Museum was most impressive and often very moving. A whole floor was devoted to the Holocaust.  It was very heavy going and we were glad to get out of that particular gallery. Another one featured the lives of one particular London family during WW2 and how they coped with regular bombing raids, rationing, sons who were soldiers etc.





There were also Exocet missiles and
other big destructive bomby things as well
as a gallery of assorted planes.  There was also a gallery devoted entirely to Victoria Cross and George Cross medal awardees, which included their actual medals. 





After the IWM, we wandered up the road and round the corner to Borough Market hoping for a leisurely lunch in this acclaimed foody paradise. But every man and his dog was there, including the entire populations of Paris, Berlin and Krakow.  It was Sardine City and while the food looked great, who wants to stand in a queue for 20 mins and then eat standing up? Well quite a lot of people obviously, as that is what most were doing.

We gave up and decided to look elsewhere for a                            

sanger but on the way out were startled to see that the humble turnip is so revered in this neck of the woods that it has its very own aisle at the Borough Markets. I have never been excited by turnips. They are my least favourite vegetable - I am certain a turnip has not passed my lips since about 1964.  

We found a pub in Borough High St, the unimaginatively
named Bunch of Grapes, and climbed their ancient,
ricketty staircase to repose in their bistro for lunch.  I had a chicken sambo while Geoff had grilled haloumi and blood orange salad.  Even so, they still brought us a bottle of HP sauce.  Bless!

Directly out the window behind Geoff in this pic is the stupendously hideous Shard - London's ugliest high-rise building, and so unsympathetic to its landscape.  And they have the nerve to charge people 25 quid if they want to go to the top and admire the view.  Well the view would be good, of course. It doesn't have the vommy Shard in it.

After the Bunch of Grapes, Geoffy insisted we seek out a pub called The George, a 17th century carriage house.  It was lovely.

I met a delightful Staffy there called Bruno.  You

may need your binoculars to see him (and me) in this pic on the right. The George is the white building, built in 1677 but a pub of the same name has been there since the 1500s. The signage says both Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare were regulars. But not at the same time presumably.


Tonight we're off on a Jack the Ripper walking tour. Geoff loves pubs and gory stuff.  It's now his turn to say a few words.  Over to you, handsome.

A couple of notes about the libations and ambience.  The George is quite magnificent and I'd be quite happy to drink most of anything there.  But amazingly, I had an IPA called Goose Island, which mine host told me was from Chicago!  They did advertise 'beers of the world', which included the inevitable Fosters and Stella.  My impression is that the George fully exploits its rightful status as a London institution of great historic provenance, and well worth a visit.  But London being the mecca that it is for drinking experiences, it certainly doesn't have a monopoly.  By the way, my drink of choice at the other pub was a Pale Ale from the Greenwich Meantime brewery. 

The Borough Market is obviously part of old London, but has been very much gentrified.  As an example, look no further than the specialty meats stall that included Zebra burger.  Stupendously crowded, but part of what makes London great.  As Anne says, the Borough High Street is congestion city.  In fact at this time of year most of London is.  I still marvel at the way public transport gets huge numbers of people around so efficiently.  It's not meant for luxury or even comfort, but by god it works.  Australia, take note and hang your head in shame.

Bid-ee, bid-ee, bid-ee that's all folks!  Till next time, A & G xx