acechick

more about cheese rolling

Some of my pics are featured on this blog post about cheese rolling:

http://cellar.org/

Locals in the news

Loafing is the new bakery. It's in the location of the old bakery which was around when we first moved to the neighborhood. But then it became an antique shop. And now back. Except that there's no baking on the premises, but is really a cake/tea shop. Middling service, but great cakes!

Also on neighborhood news, remember the filming that took place recently? the ads are out:

All Pear and No Disa..
Watch the ad...

All Pear and No Dece..
Watch the ad...

Look, it's all our locals!

ETA: Apparently Mark Watson (who stars in these commercials) is a well known comedian.

London Tuesdays

On Monday we went to watch the cheese rolling.

It's a curious tradition, in the way that various other villages do weird things and everyone accepts as being eccentrically british.

I was up and out of the house at 8am on the bank holiday Monday (a miracle unto itself) in order to pick up next-door-Nancy & entourage in Hampstead en route to Gloucester. We had hit the road on time, aiming to get to the car park before the 12pm shut down. With 30 minutes to go, we hit the turn off queue. And sat there for 40 minutes. This was going to be big.

We passed all the fools parking on verges (fined!) and went for 'gold'. Deidre the Satnav guided us into suburbia:

We could hear the crowds and see the course in the distance:

And then we had to walk uphill. Many people chose to view from a distance:

The odd thing about the course is that there is a line of houses at the bottom of it. So spectators (of the picnic variety) set up camp beneath these houses. The picture here will give you a better idea.

Of course, I would not settle for second-best and managed to squeeze myself into this vantage point.

From here I had a great view of a victim of such a goal. This fellow fell out of a tree on top of the hill as he tried to get a better view. It was hard work for the rescue team to bring him down on the backboard. Like the ski patrol, but without snow. Check out the incline, would that qualify as a black run?

Even better, I had a view of the rugby team at the bottom of the hill. It was their job to stop the tumblers. They were more vigorous at stopping the 'illegal runners' (those who chose to go down the hill outside of a race) for whom they took a run up, the result being more flying bodies and cries of "ooooh!" from the crowds.

There were long waits between the races as victims were carted off to hospital and the course cleared of detritus. But the anticipation was well worth it!

and this is what I saw:

I was well satisfied to watch one race from a distance and one close up. The waiting and the crowds were trying. It was interesting to try to imagine this village on the other 365 days of the year, when they weren't being invaded by 7,000 people (5,000 of whom I swear were Australian).

And for all these people there were no portaloos (but many bushes), one van selling cheese and another selling burgers:

I'm not advocating an American-style branding bonanza, but a few more local cheese vendors (ploughman's lunch, anyone?) and other food options would be a draw. But perhaps the limitations of the venue warrants keeping the event small.

And next-door-Nancy has decided on a name for her little boy: Boris. I suggested she name him after London's mayor. He also goes by: Bor-Bor; Borbury; Boz Scaggs etc. And at 16 weeks old is a well behaved puppy. Gimba is still not impressed (although he loves her dearly).

London Tuesdays

We were insanely lucky the day that Boo and I went to the Chelsea Physic Garden, the weather was gorgeous!

As the name suggests, it's located in the gloriously leafy Chelsea. As an eastender, I often scoff at the residents of SW1. Now I'm beginning to understand its appeal!

The Chelsea Physic Garden was founded by the Society of Apothecaries in 1673 in order to promote the study of botany in relation to medicine, then known as the "physic" or healing arts.

 

The garden is nearly 4 acres of prime Chelsea real estate, paying rent of £5 per year.

There are a number of 'zones' in the garden, immediately to the left (Thames side) is the systematic order beds. No, I don't know.

The rockery (made of stone from the Tower of London and Icelandic lava that Sir Joseph Banks had used as ballast) and a bust of Sir Hans Sloane.

The cool fern house. I like the idea that this is where all the cool ferns hang out.

What self-respecting English garden would be without a nice cup of tea!

The cafe felt a little like a CWA/WI hall, with nice flowers!

This fellow (below) made me laugh! Obviously a new father with a very fresh little baby. He was enjoying the sunshine so much that he laid the baby out on the grass (on its sheepskin rug) and the two of them had a nap. I sure mummy would not have been happy.

These signs made an appearance at various points around the garden. Out of context, they were quite odd. I assume the obvious: one is to be viewed, the bamboo is to be listened to and the rosemary eaten.

Isn't it such a beautiful vista? The red brick mansion flats make a wonderful backdrop and re-inforce the 'Englishness' of the delightful garden.

I may not have had such a boring London Tuesday for a long time. But your suffering is not over: next time you must endure the gorgeous flowers and plants we encountered.