Poem of the Week

The Grey Squirrel
Humbert Wolfe

Like a small grey

coffee-pot,
sits the squirrel.
He is not

all he should be,
kills by dozens
trees, and eats
his red-brown cousins.

The keeper on the
other hand,
who shot him, is
a Christian, and

loves his enemies,
which shows
the squirrel was not
one of those.

Edam, Wensleydale

This week, some tasty (if pre-sliced) Dutch Edam and some proper Yorkshire Wensleydale.  Both bought on Nunhead Lane/Evelina Rd.

In Praise of Kristal Pharmacy

Several of the shops on Nunhead Lane are praised by the local inhabitants: Soper's fishmongers, Ayres the bakers (Master Bakers of Nunhead) in particular.  But today I want to reserve a little extra recognition for Kristal Pharmacy.  The emporium of everything. 

Last night my reading glasses broke (I've needed them for about 4 years, and I'm still not used to having them, and as a result I suspect I tend to abuse them a little), so I went in to the Waterloo station Boots to buy a replacement pair.  Tiny selection, average price thirty quid. 

Not a chance. 

Instead, I'll be in Kristal at the weekend, where the selection is wider, and the prices around a quarter of that. 

Shop on Nunhead Lane.  You know it makes sense.

Brunel Museum wins Award

June 2nd, 2010:  The Brunel Museum in Rotherhithe has won a Queen's Award for Voluntary Service -  seemingly the 'MBE for Volunteer Groups'. 

A short and slightly misleading piece in the South London Press (a mere 2 column inches) was how I discovered this.

But anyway - Well done!  Well deserved!

(I also note that the Web site has improved a lot since I mentioned it last year)

Cemetery Redux

OK, so I was working, but the rest of the family were at home and they decided to go to the cemetery. This is what they saw...

In the far distance, through the trees below, you can spot St Paul's.

Poem of the Week

The Rolling English Road
G.K. Chesterton

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,

The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.

His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.

My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.

Red Leicester

Red Leicester (first on the list) was this week's choice.  Supermarket again, but quite tasty.