We had hoped to see this exhibition/display before we went to the USA, but a glitch-ridden encounter with the V&A on-line booking system denied us that opportunity. The V&A tried to mollify us with a “take your pick” offer ahead of the next booking block, and we picked this Friday lunchtime slot.
A gift of sound and vision
The new V&A East Storehouse is an archive with some capacity for public displays, rather than an exhibition space in the style of the main V&A. While visitors are free to wander around the archive space and look at some artefacts up close…
…the “house rules” are very much archive rather than exhibition rules. All property, even flasks of water, must be left behind in lockers before entering the main area. This felt quite onerous to us – not least needing to do without water while we were inside but also 60% of the lockers were located either too high for us to reach or so low that more senior people might struggle to get down to that level. Naturally the middle-level lockers were all in use.
The David Bowie display is a fairly small area, somewhat akin to an exhibition but clearly oriented towards the fact that this is a Bowie archive that has been donated to the V&A.
Daisy’s Thin White Duchess poseJust for one day…Archives shelved, archives hanging…Fame puts you there where things are hollowPlus examples from the document archivesPlease lock me away…Fashion…turn to the left…fashion…turn to the right…
After the Bowie, we had a look around the rest of the place – well why not?
Clothworkers next door to the BowieNot exactly to our tasteModern kitchen ideas for our house makeover?Janie liked this glass chair…I didn’t.Whereas I liked these pieces…
The QR code system enabling us to look up items and sections was effective – both in the Bowie and (even more usefully) around the general archive.
Daisy admiring the daisy Glastonbury bin
Then, after all we’d bin through…
…a visit to the Cafe Garden next door for some coffee and a snack before heading home.
I can see the benefit of this new V&A archive for real design afficionados. But for fair weather design-istas like ourselves, I expect that visit to the V&A East Storehouse was a one-off.
Alan Rees chasing answers from Simon Wilde after dinner
Janie and I really enjoy these Library Book Club evenings at Lord’s. It is a real pleasure and a privilege to be able to dine and hear about a recent cricket book in my favourite room in the Lord’s pavilion: the Writing Room.
…Janie found herself sitting next to Alan Rees, which led to my discovery of the research gem for both real tennis and cricket that is the MCC library, which Alan curates. My most recent opus and talk in Newport Rhode Island owes no small thanks to that happenstance in early 2024.
Strangely, Janie & I are also no strangers to dining in Simon Wilde’s proximity. We had spotted Simon, along with John Etheridge and some other cricket writers in Sabai Sabai in Moseley on the night before the India test at Edgbaston earlier this year. I now realise I even commented on this fact in my write up of that trip:
I mentioned this curious fact to Simon over dinner, who initially tried to deny the idea that he might have been dining with friends in an up-market Thai restaurant in Moseley, but then broke down under my interrogation and confessed to remembering the place. He even admitted to having eaten there more than once.
Top investigative journalism on my part, there, I feel.
But not as toppy in the investigative journalism department as Simon’s book, Chasing Jessop: The Mystery of England Cricket’s Oldest Record, which is a forensic look at a record-setting innings by Gilbert Jessop in the 1902 Ashes test match at the Oval. Spoiler alert: England won that test match but had already lost the Ashes. Not much changes…
Gilbert Jessop could give it a whack. Giving it a whack is back in fashion now.
Anyway, point is, Gilbert Jessop was an interesting and unusual character for the England test set up in 1902 who came off big time in that legendary match. But the exact details of his record are shrouded in some mystery, with the scorebooks having gone missing and the contemporaneous newspaper records being a bit light on details – especially one detail that matters to the modern record-setter: how many balls did he take to get to 100 runs.
If this all sounds a bit geeky…it is. But geeky in an historically-fascinating way, as it brings to light the ways that the sports media and sports fandom have changed in so many ways…yet in others, such as the fascination with speed record-setting, stayed the same.
But before all that book stuff, we ate the above meal. The grub side of things is always done very well at Lord’s for these events.
I sat next to Marek from Primrose Hill Books, who was there to help Simon sell the book. In the course of a most interesting conversation, Marek told me that this was his first ever visit to the Lord’s pavilion, which he found a little awe-inspiring, and that he had, in his youth, dated both of Mike Brearley’s sisters at one time or another. Not at the same time, Marek hastened to add.
By the way, if you want a signed copy of Simon’s book, I think Marek still has a few signed copies at the bookshop, so a request through the above link might score you one of those. Naturally the book is available from all good bookshops and also other well-known sources.
Alan didn’t guard The Right Honourable Sir Spencer Cecil Brabazon Ponsonby-Fane’s cricket bat quite so carefully a few weeks ago, when I popped by the library to finish my 1875 research. Indeed Alan positively gave me permission to handle that historic bat and even photographed me doing so:
I got an almost child-like buzz out of this. Thanks Alan.
The MCC Library Book Club seems to be a bit of a magnet for real tennis types: for the Simon Wilde evening there were three of my tennis pals: Jim Chaudry, Oliver Wise and Brian Sharpe, which adds to the feeling of conviviality on thes evenings.
I had seen Sharpey three days in a row – at the Silver Racquet match on the Sunday, while endorsing MCC candidates on the Monday, and then at this event. When I broke the news to Brian that I wasn’t coming to Lord’s the next day, I think I saw him wipe away a tear. Joy? Laughter?
While we were in the Writing Room enjoying the chat about Jessop, history and books in general, in the Long Room (next door), there was a high-falutin’ dinner with parliamentarians from the House of Commons and House of Lords. I know where I would rather be – Library Book Club is more my cup of tea.
ALAN: Had Jessop been to the right sort of school? SIMON: No, and that was seen as a bit of a problem…
Club Night 2018, with the 2025 register in brackets: Linda (present), Me (present), Sandra (present), Martin (absent), Liza (present), Andrea (present), Mark (RIP), David (present), Simon (absent), Ivor (absent)
22 October – Real Tennis Club Night At Lord’s
When I talk about club night at Lord’s, I am talking about a 9 or 10 times a year midweek informal event, enabling real tennis players of varying standards to rock up for some doubles.
Being a quintessentially varying standard player of the most average sort, I have stumbled into the role of curating these events. In truth, it’s probably more to do with the fact that I’m quite good at marking – i.e. umpiring and scoring.
The abacus (this photo at Hampton Court) is for show – I normally mark in my head.
We had a great turnout at Lord’s on 22 October – about a dozen brave souls gave it a go. There were one or two new faces, which always makes the handicapping just a little harder. One chap, who was new to the game and said he’d only played a few times and had a couple of lessons, nevertheless hit the ball like a seasoned player. It took the more experienced players a while to work him out and he’ll soon enough work out what they were doing to work him out.
It’s a great sport – requiring thought and mental agility as well as sport and (hopefully) physical agility.
23 October – Youth Club Night At Kimchee
But the term “club night” also makes me think of youth club night, which used to be an almost weekly thing in Streatham back in the 1970s. More than 10 years ago, several of us regrouped (as it were) and have been meeting up for youth club nights, mostly as an annual event in the late spring. The headline photo is from May 2018.
This year’s spring event was a very small scale affair, while I was still recovering from my hip operation. I sense that the four who gathered then felt that four was not a quorum. Hence the radical idea of having an autumn rescheduling at the scene of the spring “crime” – Kimchee in Kings Cross.
Six of us gathered: Andrea (thanks for organising), David, Linda, Liza, Me & Sandra.
This was the first “scale” gathering since the sad and untimely passing last year of Mark Phillips whom I (and indeed several of us) had known since we were very little indeed; before youth club.
When the idea of having these gatherings was first mooted (I think we started in 2013 or 2014 – I’ll need to diary trawl for the earliest one – as the first few were pre-Ogblog) – both Mark and I agreed to attend with some trepidation. I know this because I used to see Mark’s mum, Shirl, when I visited my mum in Nightingale. I also learnt via Shirl that Mark, like me, was surprisingly pleased with the gathering and resolute in wanting such gatherings to be repeated, which they have been.
My favourite Mark-related story from our gatherings is from 2019, when I discovered that Mark was now the headmaster at Deptford Green School, around the time that my cricket charity, the London Cricket Trust, was putting facilities into Deptford Park, in part for use by his school. The link below is the story of what happened – the punchline being that the great South African cricketer, AB de Villiers, rocked up at Deptford Park to open our new pitch a few weeks later
Bertie Vallat (left), Chris Bray (centre) & Ben Yorston (right)
Janie and I brought our Sunday morning lawners slot at Boston Manor forward an hour, so we might get to Lord’s in time to see most of the Silver Racquet match between Bertie Vallat and Ben Yorston.
Aficionados of Ogblog will no doubt remember Bertie’s first mention, from 2018:
I mentioned a key feature of that match to Jonathan Potter, soon after Janie and I sat down in the dedans gallery.
HARRIS: I have played Bertie myself. I took a couple of games off him playing level.
POTTER: How old?
HARRIS: (thinking…) I was about 56 I think.
POTTER: Not you. Bertie.
HARRIS: (sotto voce) 12.
Strangely, it turns out that Bertie remembers the occasion too…or at least his early moment of “fame” here on Ogblog.
But you want to know about the Silver Racquet match, not my ridiculous ramblings about one of my many historic on-court humiliations.
And so you should, because it really was a corker of a match. We weren’t really expecting an epic battle, but we got a five set epic, which included some truly exceptional shot-making and especially impressive defensive retrieving by both players.
The dedans was pretty full for the second and third sets, but several attendees, not expecting quite such a long battle, had other engagements to get to, so only a few of us were able to stick around and see the match reach its conclusion.
Janie and I really were impressed and engrossed in watching the match. Even the final set, when both players were clearly pushing themselves towards and beyond their physical limits, was a great watch. Amateur sport at its best.
You don’t even have to take Paul’s word for it – see for yourself on the MCC YouTube recording for that day, from 2 hrs 20 minutes in until the sweet/bitter end:
Been going since 1867. The Silver Racquet, I mean. Not Bertie, obviously.
Winning the Silver Racquet doesn’t just mean a trophy and bottle of pop. It also confers the right on the winner to compete for the Gold Racquet. Unfortunately, Janie and I won’t be able to make that match. Maybe next time.
Once again I found myself match managing for the Dedanists’ Society in Tony Friend’s absence. This year he tried to be more specific about the match report:
The readers will want a pie report. And make sure you tell them about the MVP.
In my first draft, I waxed lyrical about several performances, even mentioning my own, before unequivocally stating that Oliver Buckley, who played two excellent rubbers for the Hamsters, was clearly the “most valuable player” on the day.
Tony was not impressed:
What are you doing? MVP doesn’t stand for “most valuable player” in a pie report. It stands for “most viscous pie”. Tell ’em about the pies.
The desserts were excellent too, but none were, strictly speaking, pies.
I needed to resort to gustatory memory and visual forensics
I detect Chicken, Ham & Leek on the one hand, Steak, Mushroom & Merlot on the other…
It was a tough choice. The dauphinoise potatoes need an honourable mention, as do the desserts, but they were none of them pies. On balance, the steak, mushroom and merlot was just a little more viscous than the chicken, ham and leek, but both were unquestionably delicious.
A huge thank you to Ian Hancock and Elwyn Hughes, who confessed to me when I arrived early and offered help, that they were “hosting virgins”, i.e. had neither of them hosted a match before. This would not have been obvious to most attendees. Nor to me at first, as the table was already laid at 9:30 am.
Then at 9:40, Lesley Ronaldson popped in and wondered why they hadn’t extended the table before laying it. I “helped” by photographing the ensuing refit.
At one point Lesley could be seen under the table, for reasons I couldn’t quite fathom. The next photo might have captured the moment that Ian & Elwyn realised that she was there.
Anyway, the point is, our hosts at RTC pulled off a blinder, as usual, providing wonderful hospitality for this convivial and enjoyable match.
There was also tennis, which, the results table below confirms, registered a 3.5/2.5 victory for the Hamsters.
But wait! Graeme Marks appeared for the Dedanists’ at 11:30 and then later for the Hamsters at 15:30. What confusion!
Many of us frequently find ourselves representing one team while also being qualified to represent the other. See the case of MCC v Dedanists’: [2025]. On such occasions, we might even find ourselves putting two shirts in our kit bag, unclear when setting off for the match which side we’ll end up representing. See the case Dedanists’ v MCC: [2020].
We even, very occasionally, find ourselves selected for a team for which we are not qualified, in order to help make the match-ups work. See Queen’s Club v The Dedanists’ Society: [2023].
Batting for both sides in the same match, though? Surely the Latin maxim “Nemo potest duobus dominis servire” – no-one can serve two masters – applies here. And if we scratch the two offending rubbers from the record, the match result looks oh-so different.
But wait! There is another Latin legal maxim: “Nemo iudex in sua causa” – no-one can judge their own case. So I suppose I must shut up with judgmental ramblings about the result, other than to say that the winner, as always, was real tennis, not least because a few hundred quid will find its way to The Dedanists’ Society coffers and then on to good causes.
Yet, I am still entitled to judge the MVP (most viscous pies):
Gold Pie: Steak, Mushroom & Merlot
Silver Pie: Chicken, Ham & Leek
And the other type of MVPs – i.e. most valuable pastry-cooks? Unquestionably Ian Hopkins & Elwyn Hughes. With thanks again for the warm and friendly hospitality in the fine tradition of Hamsters v Dedanists’ matches.
I wasn’t an unbeliever in this play/production, nor was I completely convinced
Janie and I saw the second preview of this one. Not that the preview lacked the polish of a honed Royal Court Theatre production, but it is possible that a few aspects were toned down/toned up or cut between previews and press night.I am writing this ahead of seeing any reviews, although I shall probably publish it a week or two after press night.
Another thing to say is that we saw this taught, psychological drama around 24 hours after learning of Bobbie Scully‘s unexpected and untimely death, which wasn’t an ideal mood setter ahead of seeing this sort of play.
It probably matters little what I say about this play/production anyway – it had effectively sold out even before the previews, let alone the press night and reviews. And why not? What a stellar list of contributors. We have very much enjoyed Nick Payne’s plays several times before – in particular Constellations was a triumph.
Similarly, Nicola Walker has long-impressed us as an actress. Although perhaps better known to most as a TV actress we have seen her several times on the stage, on at least one occasion (The Curious Incident…)directed brilliantly, as in The Unbelievers, by Marianne Elliot.
The list of recognisably excellent cast and creatives went on. That’s why we booked early. That’s why lots of people booked early.
The story is almost as unpleasant a scenario as you can possibly imagine. A middle-class family’s teenage son doesn’t return from school one day and disappears without trace. Did he run away? Was he abducted? Did he run away and then subsequently meet his demise? The play shows the impact of this horrifying event on the family, especially the mother, Miriam (Nicola Walker), over a number of years.
Janie got more out of this one than I did.
It felt, to me, as though the piece had been written as a virtuoso piece for the lead actress, which it undoubtedly is. Only an actress of Nicola Walker’s quality could carry such a part through 100 minutes or so of unbroken drama, during which she barely leaves the stage.
But the piece has a relentless gloom about it; it is not a spoiler to say that neither the family, nor the audience, get any answers to the mystery, The whole point is that the tragedy comes down to the belief the individuals involved, cast and audience, have in what might have happened and therefore how to live with the unknown.
Some elements of the play work brilliantly, especially the scenes where this question of belief is explored and illustrated through the drama.
But much of the play especially early scenes, felt like up-market versions of those television police procedurals that, frankly, I’d pay good money to avoid having to see. [Insert your own joke about the BBC licence fee here.]
I also found the light relief scenes rather forced and did not get the desired sense of relief from them. Janie thought they worked well on the whole for her, so perhaps that was more about my sombre mood than the scenes.
I was unconvinced, for example, by the character Anil, who came from a Society for Psychical Research-like organisation. He was trying to be intensely caring and professional, yet was unable to stop himself from answering his phone while in a meeting with distressed people. I think my unbelief in this character was down to the writing, rather than Jaz Singh Deol’s acting. Similarly, Harry Kershaw’s character Benjamin, the loquacious puffin-boffin fiancée of one of the daughters, given the context, was almost impossible for me to believe in, other than as a playwright’s device to try to lighten the mood of an increasingly dark play.
Nick Payne is a fine writer, it was a superb team of cast/creatives, and The Royal Court puts on fine productions, so Janie and I won’t be dodging these people and places in future – far from it.
But this one just missed the mark for me and only just made the mark for Janie.
The weather had smiled on us so wonderfully for most of our New England trip, it was perhaps ironically fitting that the weather turned just as we were leaving.
A damp view of Portland just before departure
We said goodbye to our lovely apartment on Munjoy Hill. I drove us from Portland to Ipswich in the driving rain.
Nice colours as we approached Ipswich
The weather was due to cheer up middle of the day, but we found ourselves in Ipswich before noon. I had spotted two places for refreshments in the middle of the town: Heart & Soul Cafe & the Choate Bridge Pub.
We started in the first of them, which we could tell straight away would be to our taste. A groovy throw back to the 1960s & 1970s.
Tasty BLTs with avo and great coffee, which is not all that easy to find in USA cafes.
The staff were all very friendly and we got to meet the owners, Bud & Jenny, who were exactly the sort of jolly, genial people you might expect from the pictures.
They were especially taken with my shirt, which they thought might have been designed for their cafe. Funnily enough, it is the one I wore to Kim & Janie’s 60’s themed party, so Bud & Jenny were darned right!
I wondered whether the picture with Ed Sheeran (see headline photo) was an AI-generated joke, as it seemed incongruous for their 60s/70s theme, but it turned out that Ed Sheeran had popped in to the cafe a few months ahead of us.
For reasons known only to him, Ed Sheeran, a son of Ipswich (Suffolk, England), chose to film a pop video in the other Ipswich (Essex County, Massachusetts). And why not?
Perhaps this gave Janie the bug to film a video of her own, which I’ll insert a bit later.
The rain had pretty much died down by the time we had finished our brunch, so we said goodbye to Bud, Jenny and their team and wandered around for a while, taking in some of the old buildings in the town…
…before returning to the centre of town to start an Updike hike. The hike needed to start in the Choate Bridge Pub, as I was aware that Updike had written many of his novels from an office above that pub. Why he chose to write there rather than in his big house, a few minutes walk away from the pub, is a matter for some academic conjecture I am sure.
Cash only. Super quirky. Iced tea for me, please.
The nice barmaid told us that upstairs is now apartments (I’d kinda figured), so we thought best to wander down to pay homage to Updike’s house after photographing the Choate Bridge Pub Updike plaque.
On leaving the pub, we got chatting for quite a while with a nice lady, recently bereaved, who had lived in St John’s Wood at one time. Then we sought the Updike plaque.
I thought the couple sitting in the window were trying to avoid being photographed, which would have been fair enough, but it turned out they were clowning around, hoping to photo bomb our picture, which was really pretty funny.
OK, you must all be chomping at the bit to see a five minute hike movie – now’s the time for a showing of Daisy’s movie:
The Polly Dole House, Updike’s second in Ipswich. A show off on the way back to the carUpdike’s first house, on Essex Road…in case you couldn’t tell…
Janie drove us into Boston Logan airport, which was a relatively traffic and hassle free drive, but dropping the car and then getting to the check in at departures was a bit of a circus, as I suspect it always is at Boston Logan.
Once we got through formalities, though, the Delta hospitality (which Virgin shares) was excellent, so we chose to chow down before the flight and eat light on it.
Is that my relaxed face or my relieved face while eating a very tasty chowder?Relaxed & relieved face, while eating a tasty fish dishStudying the photos while taking some desert before flying.
Our last day, mostly like the previous day, as we wanted to relax.
Breakfast, then off to play tennis around 9:40 for 10:00. No dramas on the tennis court today and another excellent close game.
Mostly relaxing, while doing a bit of packing.
Then, after finishing our packing, we went off in the evening to Miyake. Another really delightful meal – thank you, Jamie and Chris.
Coincidentally, we learnt the next day from our host Michele that Jamie and Chris are friends of theirs and happened to be over for dinner with our hosts that very evening and wondered whether we were enjoying the meals in the places they had recommended!
I know Portland is a small city and all that, but this felt very folksy indeed.
Anyway, the answer is…we sure did.
This all looks very neat and tidy at first
The food was delicious and the service very helpful, enthusiastic and discreet in equal measure.
Two of our favourites: unadon (above) and buta bara (kakuni is our real fave) belowLet’s get up close and personal with an ebi tempuraThere’s always one diner who cannot get used to sensible portion sizes!
We really liked that place – a lovely way to end our time in Portland Maine.
In the unlikely event that anyone wants to see the handful of pictures that weren’t used in this blog piece, click the Flickr link here or photo below:
Our morning “routine” in our temporary Portland home is now well set. Coffee and a breakfast of cereal, blueberries, grapes, banana & milk, followed by a game of tennis. I prevailed today 6-4, 1-1; it has been really close each day.
On this occasion, we politely asked a pickleball pair to allow us to play on the court we had booked and the “gentleman” tried to decline our request, insisting that the place is “first come, first served”…which it is, unless you pay to reserve and play. His “Mrs” encouraged him to see sense, not least because there were several other pickleball spots free such that both they and we could play on uncracked courts. I’m starting to see why tennis and pickleball folk are at loggerheads in some parts of the US!
Don’t get into a pickle
The Eastern Promenade courts are a beautiful setting for tennis (and/or pickleball come to that), with lovely views of the sea and (at least while we were around) a helpful but unobtrusive level of breeze.
Back to our apartment for a restful day, mostly reading on our terrace and/or writing up these notes. We met our host, Michele, briefly, and had a pleasant chat with her.
I even had time for a siesta today and it really did feel like siesta weather – sitting out had, at times, felt like too much sun; extraordinary for Portland Maine in October.
Dinner this evening at Scales, which came much recommended by our friend in Bretton Woods and the friendly couple up the street (Jamie and Chris), who also recommended the Japanese place we have arranged to try tomorrow.
Scales deserved those recommendations (as did the Japanese – see next article). Excellent setting, grub and service. We tried their clam chowder which was excellent – on a par with The Moorings in Newport.
Then Janie chose lobster roll with fries, coleslaw & pickle, while I had a very tasty haddock dish.
Janie looks very happy with her choice. I don’t look displeased with mine either.
We both had a glass of a NY Riesling to start, then I had Benziger Running Wild Chardonnay, while Janie tried an Oregon Pinot Noir rose. The portion sizes were sensible for once, so I tried some frozen custard (blueberry) and Janie tried a coffee frapee. Then we did both feel full, but very happy!
We played tennis again after breakfast. 6-4, 4-4 in Daisy’s favour. A nice young basketball player who was practicing her shooting encouraged us to “have a go” before we went home.
Possibly (above), certainly (below)
A little reluctantly, Daisy agreed to do some coastal touring this afternoon. In the end she was glad that she acquiesced, not least because that freed up our last two days for rest and relaxation at our apartment in Portland.
Just two stops for the excursion on Sunday – Portsmouth and Kennebunkport. First stop, Portsmouth.
We parked on the edge of the centre of town, in a lot where parking is free as long as you can find a spot. We found a spot. My guess that leaf-peeping would be more popular this weekend and that consequently the seaside towns would be “buzzy but not heaving” proved to be correct.
We took some light refreshment (iced coffee and bread) at an Italian bar/restaurant on market square, then wandered round a bit.
We were not overly taken with Portsmouth, which reminded us of many nice but unexceptional old towns at home, and we were not attracted to look at museums on such a warm sunny day.
On, then, to Kennebunkport. The drive into that town was more scenic than the drive to Portsmouth, as was the town itself. Small, compact and rather quaint.
Which of these supermodels (above & below) is Model A?
We enjoyed walking around for a while, taking in the vibe. Then we had ice cream because that’s what you do if you spend an afternoon in seaside towns. Janie had coffee and I had blueberry pie flavour.
Then home, reasonably early, to enjoy a relaxed evening with our wine, cheese, charcuterie and salad, procured from Wholefoods and Micucci on the preceding days.
Pickleball seems to be de rigueur on the Portland tennis courts
We played tennis for the first time at the Eastern Prominade. 6-2, 2-4 in my favour. Most people play pickleball there now. We got there a little early and had a nice lady explain pickleball to us.
Tennis for me, thanks all the same.
Then we played a good game of tennis in that lovely setting.
After tennis and a shower, we went to Micucci to buy some charcuterie & cheeses for Sunday. Also to try their much vaunted pizza for lunch – one big pizza slice between the two of us was more than plenty.
I don’t normally dig pizza, but this simple (half) pizza slice was just the ticket for lunch
We relaxed on the terrace of our lovely Munjoy Hill apartment in the afternoon…
…ahead of an early evening meet up with Susan Gorman and her partner Bill at Woodford F&B, in mid-town Portland.
It was lovely to meet Susan (my Keele flatmate Alan Gorman’s widow) after several years of correspondence. It was also a pleasure to meet Bill.
We tried Woodford’s famous burgers, which were very good, preceded by a cheese plate to share with a special local cheddar as its centre piece, together with a wild cherry garnish. Janie and I drank a very interesting NY State Gewurtztraminer.
Susan and Bill both had very interesting things to say about local issues in South Maine and wider issues too, of course. They live in Biddeford, which is about 25-30 minutes south of Portland, but Bill had lived in Portland previously.
Indeed, the food, beverages and conversation were so completely absorbing, that our resident culinary photographer (Janie) forgot to take any photos of the occasion, which had her kicking herself afterwards. Actually, an unphotographed meal out is such a rarity these days, I think the absence of photos signifies the very specialness of the occasion.
It was such a pleasure to spend some time with Susan and Bill – they kindly dropped us back at our apartment before they set off for home.
