…we were delighted to see that, at last, what had been a deserted space underneath the theatre, formerly the Finborough Arms, had been revived and reopened as a rather sprauncy-looking Indian Restaurant; Yogi’s Kensington.
We popped in, took a look around, smelt the mouth-watering smells – such an improvement on the stale chip fat smell that had been the Finborough Arms kitchen’s trademark smell for some while before that place closed down – and even picked up a menu for future reference.
The small print is detailed descriptions of dishes
Anyway, I thought this place sounded right up John’s street. It was my turn to choose and John leapt at the idea when he looked at the menu on-line. Simples.
Here’s what we ate – the first two dishes being starters to share:
Hot Garlic Honey Fish – Honey glazed spicy, tangy fish with bold garlic chili flavors.
Lasooni Methi Lamb – cooked in fresh fenugreek, garlic with special indian spice
Goan Curry Prawns – cooked in fresh coconut with authentic kokan spice
Dal Makhani – Slow cooked black lentils with red kidney beans
Saffron Pilaf Rice – Fregnante rice cooked with saffron
Plain Naan
Washed down with some beer (in John’s case) followed by wine by the glass in both of our cases.
Every dish was delicious.
So absorbed were we in our conversations and delight in the food, we both forgot to take food porn photos – that’s twice in a row we’ve dined without photos.
As always, it was great to get together with John. We didn’t quite solve all the world’s problems this time, so I guess we should get together again quite soon and have another go at the problems…or at least have another fine meal together.
Rohan Candappa, Nick Wahla, Me, Steve Butterworth, Ollie Goodwin, Rich Davis & Lisa Pavlovsky– thank you for the photo, Mr Waiter.
A gathering of friends who went to my school, and great fun it was too. It is always enjoyable and uplifting when we meet up.
On this occasion, we gathered at Souk in honour of Rich “The Rock” Davis, who risked flying out of Toronto to London despite his own absence from air traffic control when so-doing.
But what should we call ourselves? “Alleyn Old Boys” was the standard term when we joined the school. Replaced by “Alleyn Old Boys And Girls” when the school went co-educational, while we were there. That’s a bit of a mouthful, though.
“Alleyn Alums” still has the requisite gender neutrality, but Latin is so old hat. Indeed some of us…no names, no pack drill Nick Wahla, showed little affinity for that classical language 50 years ago, and have not exactly changed their minds since then.
Coincidentally, I have recently had to grapple with this vital old-school nominative question for practical reasons. As part of my sporting activities playing real tennis…
So much room for improvement in that technique – c2016.
…and as foreshadowed in one of my Ognblog pieces a few months ago…
…I have indeed teamed up with Professor Simon Barton (Alleyn’s 1970-1977, stop sniggering at the back of the class) to represent our old school against a pack of rather more seasoned old school pairings in The Cattermull Cup the weekend after Easter. I settled on “Alleyn Old Folk” as our team name, which seemed to amuse Simon – you need a sense of humour to deploy his medical discipline, and even more so to partner me at tennis.
But El Presidente, or Praeses Designatus as Nick Wahla would probably not put it – i.e. Lisa Pavlovsky, was unimpressed by that choice of title.
Sensible suggestions please,
she demanded. Someone needs to explain to Lisa that she is hanging with the wrong crowd if sensible suggestions are what she’s after. Inspired by Lisa’s plea for ideas, Rohan Candappa suggested:
The Canada/Greenland/Pavlovsky Plan – to invade Dulwich College and seize its resources. Finally our CCF training will come in handy! ‘Make Alleyn’s Great Again’ hats will be available for all).
But enough of this forward-looking frivolity. Such gatherings are primarily about reminiscing the past, not planning an heroic future.
There was a lot of talk that evening about train rides to and from school, plus parties which I didn’t attend…probably because I wasn’t invited…where juvenile behaviour, excessive high spirits and resulting broken glass seemed to feature a great deal. I have commissioned DeepAI to produce a couple of illustrative pictures, which I have entitled “Lightbulb Moment” and “Sliding Doors Moment” for reasons of my own.
Everyone played their part, but the hero of the evening was undoubtedly Rich “The Rock” Davis, who had flown in on the redeye from Toronto that very day, carelessly losing five hours in the process, yet still he was up for a Moroccan meal with his old school pals. True grit.
However, the evening ended on a very unfortunate note for me personally. I hadn’t noticed, on arrival, that one of our number had come to Souk on a bicycle. As I was slightly tired and a little emotional, perhaps not articulating my every syllable in my trademark, crystal clear, received pronunciation manner, I mumbled:
Whose is the bike?
…which Rohan, failing to catch my copula, aurally, as it were, mistook for the phrase, “Who’s the bike?”
That’s outragous – you’re cancelled, Harris,
said Rohan, who then followed up the evening with a new nickname for me – Ian “Cancelled” Harris, plus a new one for Ollie – “Glass-breaker” Goodwin.
So there you have it – we all have nicknames now. It’s only taken 50 years to complete the set.
Candy, Gob, Cancelled, Peanut, Glass-breaker, The Rock & El Presidente.
John, Colin, Jonny, Graham, Barry– still crazy after all these years
We are starting to wonder whether the Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner puts the kiss of death onto struggling restaurants. Our previously most recent find, the Goodge Street Spaghetti House, closed down after just two or three of our visits. You’d have thought that six to ten comedy writers, three or four times a year could keep any restaurant afloat, but it seems not.
La Ballerina in Covent Garden has been around for a long time. When John Random mentioned the place to Hugh Rycroft, Hugh reported that his aunt used to take him there.
La Ballerina was a little, family-run café when it opened in the late 1800s…back when Hugh Rycroft’s auntie used to bring him to Covent Garden for fruity treats…
But that’s history, whereas we are topical comedy folk…or at least we were.
Anyway, point is, it is always a treat to get together with that crowd. Diverse conversations, ranging from Graham’s bizarre story about spending hours with the wrong Professor Guliyev in Azerbaijan discussing arcane rock formations…
…who knew that Guliyev is a common name in Azerbaijan? Azerbaijanis, that’s who…
…to even more arcane quizzing about symbols on flags. I didn’t come last. Naturally, Barry won that game.
We also talked about the good old days, of course. Songs are often the most memorable items. We talked about the various attempts that several of us had to rhyme things with Mangosuthu Buthelezi, for example. Was it Jonny who had managed something to the tune of Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini? It took two of us, me and Barry, to dredge out something to the tune of Hazy Crazy (Mangosuthu Buthelezi) Days Of Summer.
Graham reminded us of one of his favourite John Random songs from the days that the former Czechoslovakia broke up – Slow-Vak. As it happens, the Harris/Random archiving project has, mercifully, already rescued that one:
I love the way that John felt obliged to inform the cast how to pronounce Václav Havel’s surname, but not Antonín Dvořák’s. And in the matter of spelling, John, should the word be spelt Slow-vak or Slovak in this context? The distinction could make all the difference, comedically, when reading a piece.
Given that La Ballerina has been an eatery for well north of 150 years, it seems unlikely that it will close down any time soon. But our tenure might be foreshortened due to John Random’s terrified thought in the middle of the night when he got home that he hadn’t paid his share of the bill. I rose early to find a message from John to that effect. I replied:
I quipped with the proprietor fellow, while I was paying, that the sixth man was hiding in the loo trying to avoid paying. I’d be most surprised, therefore, if he hadn’t accosted you and relieved you of your portion so quickly after you relieved yourself, you didn’t even notice the extraction. The gentleman struck me as a follower of Colbert, adept at ” so plucking the goose as to obtain the largest possible amount of feathers with the smallest possible amount of hissing.”
But if I am wrong, don’t be surprised if the next Ivan Shakespeare dinner is at yet another new venue, on account of us having been banned from La Ballerina in disgrace.
Oh, and another thing. John and Mark Keagan are doing a bit of a show at the Canal Cafe in June:
As always, a fun evening. Ivan Shakespeare’s legacy to us – the idea of having regular gatherings – was a great one, much appreciated by those of us who have survived thus far.
“OK, you NewsRevue-alum quizzers and other readers. What is the connection between my family and medal winning at the Olympic Games? Answer in the comments – but only if you get there without using search engines or AI.” AD.
Colin clinched the china after strivin’ for the Ivan, the beaker for the burlesque is the cup snuck by Chalice…
London Cricket Trust Dinner At Soutine, 9 December 2025
This is the second time we’ve had our London Cricket Trust Christmas dinner at Soutine after our last Board meeting of the year.
Smug and self-satisfied we are not, but we are now able to boast 118 non-turf pitch installations and 21 net system installations completed since we started seven years ago. “Way to go”, as our transatlantic friends might put it, but this is a transformational number of facilities in parks around London that would otherwise have been without.
Chris Whitaker, Ed Griffiths, Ian Moore, Sophie Kent and I enjoyed the meal and the company.
Dedanists’ Society Lunch, Lemonia, 11 December 2025
These images from the Dedanists’ Society website, depicting the lunch last year
Always a highlight of the festive season, this gathering of dedicated realists provided an opportunity to talk real tennis, in contrast with my activities earlier in the week which were about cricket.
Hard ball doesn’t get much harder than this. I tried to be suitably abstemious, or at least minimally lubricated, as I also had an evening engagement that evening…
The Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Goodge Street Spaghetti House, 11 December 2025
A slightly depleted gang gathered for the traditional seasonal Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, which has, for decades now, included a form of quizzing for the Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Trophy. More recently, since the demise of NewsRevue founder and mentor Mike Hodd, we also play for a Mike Hodd memorial trophy. I won “the Hoddy” last year, which meant that it was my job to come up with a suitable game/quiz for this year’s contest.
The gang for dinner this year comprised me, John Random, Barry Grossman, Hugh Ryecroft, Chalice Am Bergris, Mark Keegan and Colin Stutt.
Barry Grossman started the game proceedings with the Ivan Shakespeare Trophy quiz. I did rather badly and Colin Stutt did rather well.
Then it was my turn to curate a game/quiz for the Hoddy. Below is the game.
Any reader should feel free to write in, ianlharris@gmail.com, and I’ll gladly mark your questions. No pressure, but Chalice scored eight-and-a-half, which was a joint top score, winning by dint of the humour bonus on one of her questions.
It’s not all about quizzes and awards, of course. Heaven forbid. The chat at dinner was lively and witty as always.
Z/Yen Seasonal Lunch, Watermen’s Hall, 12 December 2025
After a hearty hit on the tennis court at Lord’s and an even stouter Board Meeting at King William Street, the Z/Yen throng retired to Watermen’s Hall for seasonal lunch and festivities.
Secret Santa did his best to liven up the post lunch activities, despite certain seemingly intelligent folk strangely finding the idea of Secret Santa hard to understand…not mentioning any names, Bob Pay.
Then quizzing and singing. As part of Z/Yen’s journey towards net zero…in this case zero effort more than necessary…the Z/Yen seasonal quiz bore more than a passing resemblance to the Hoddy one depicted above…apart from the title and Z/Yen logos where the pictures of Mike Hodd are shown above.
Readers are as welcome to have a go and send in your questions for the Z/Yen quiz as you were for the Mike Hodd one. No pressure, but the combined forces of Juliet and Charlotte managed a most impressive nine. Questions that were too clever for their own good did not find favour with the judge, which was a bit of a disadvantage for the more-propellor-headed attendees.
As a further lurch in the direction of net zero (excess effort), I also road tested the idea of getting a random bunch of people to sing Jacobean songs, which worked almost as well with Z/Yen as it seems to be working with the real tennis community on skills nights. But that’s another story. As (will be) the attempt to get Gresham Society people singing in that manner.
Suffice it to say that the Z/Yen community was so motivated by the “We Be Three Poor Mariners” song that they danced around the Watermen’s table while singing it. Apt, I suppose, at Watermen’s.
When John booked Cavita for this get together, conveniently choosing a location that suited me coming on from tennis at Lord’s, I hadn’t realised that I would be more or less returning to the scene of my hip op nine month’s earlier, at the Fortius Clinic, two doors down in Wigmore Street.
Hence the headline photo.
I resolved, before looking at the Cavita menu, that I would abstain from ordering any dishes such as knuckle of veal or pork. I guess I am too steeped in penny dreadful London melodrama of the Sweeney Todd variety.
Anyway, I needn’t have worried – Cavita’s menu was suitably elegant, magnificent and certainly oriented away from dishes where you wrestle with your food and/or end up wondering which species you might be eating.
Cavita is one of those “sharing plates” restaurants, which I must say rather appeal to me these days, as you can regulate the amount of food you eat as long as you are well advised by your waiting staff.
The young woman who looked after us at Cavita provided good advice on portion sizes, sharing and the like. John & I tried:
TLAYUDA VEGETARIANA – an Oaxacan mushroom concoction on a corn bread base – to share;
QUESABIRRIA – a beef shin stuffed tortilla which was seriously gooey – one each;
G R I N G A – a flour tortilla with Iberico pork – well yummy – one each;
PESCADO ZARANDEADO – line caught sea bass prepared (half and half) with two marinations – to share;
FRIJOLITOS (refried beans) – side order to share – because you cannot judge a Mexican restaurant without judging the refried beans. These were excellent.
We drank some pleasant wine by the glass – I went for a Chilean Chardonnay – Clos des Fous, whereas John opted for an Izadi Rioja Blanco.
The whole meal was excellent, but the fish was undoubtedly the eye-catching highlight. At one point I sensed that we were being watched form the next table and spotted that the gentleman from the couple next to us seemed to be staring at our table as he was rising to leave. Perhaps he spotted that I had noticed him, as he came up to us before he left and said,
That fish looks amazing – is it as delicious as it looks?
We told him that it was.
Unlike the manner in which the fish caught, John and I caught up on things socially speaking. It’s been a while since our last dinner catch up together and was most pleasurable. But all too soon realised that John has a long hike back to Saffron Walden and that we both had an early start workwise the next day, despite the fact that we are both, theoretically, working less now.
We were enjoying ourselves sop much that we didn’t get around to taking food porn photos. Still. there are enough of those available on the Cavita website and on-line reviews.
John & I will try not to leave it so long between dinner meet ups next time. If I can keep away from places like the Fortius Clinic and stick to spending time in more enjoyable places, such as Cavita Restaurant, John & I should be able to attain that goal.
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.
Daisy (Janie) making an exhibition of herself at the Newport club
Mercifully a less action-packed day. We took it easy in the morning and ambled back to the Newport Club via some shops that Janie wanted to see and the wharf area where we took some pictures.
A Streetcar Named Fisher doesn’t have the same ring to it as A Streetcar Named DesireA street car that defies descriptionThey didn’t lie to us – not a spare court in the whole club
With the World Championship over, the afternoon was a far less formal affair, with the main combatants pairing up with Newport pros Tony Hollins and Josh Smith to play an exhibition doubles for us.
The lunch once again was very good and it gave us a chance to chat with some of the members, not least Paul, Chris, Noel, Ellen, Kelsey and Sarah who made us feel very welcome. We even met Sarah’s mum that afternoon.
The informal atmosphere enabled us to view some of the tennis from each of the Newport vantage points, which was a nice bonus.
By the time we got home for a rest ahead of the tournament dinner there was not much time, but still we (I) had a short rest and then we Ubered it to the Newport Beach House for the dinner.
We chatted with the young Lumley’s for a while over cocktails and then sat at a table for the meal with some very interesting people, including Jonathan Pardee to Janie’s right and an architect-regular-combatant of Jonathan’s to my left.
After dinner, we chatted with Freddy, Judith (Freddy’s mum) and Rob Lake for a while, until it dawned on us that we were almost the last people left around!
Tuesday 12 August: Goodbye Hydrotherapy At Riverstone, Hello Chelsea Arts Club
I had my last hydrotherapy session for my hip surgery rehab with Michael Lambert at Riverstone that afternoon – highly recommended if you are recovering from major surgery or injury, btw. My entire focus now will be on the more gruelling home and gym based physio.
Criss-crossing the Borough all day – later that afternoon, I ventured to the Chelsea Arts Club, where Tony Friend had kindly arranged to introduce me to Nigel à Brassard, a fellow avocational writer/historian who is also to speak at the Real Tennis Society history conference next month. A most pleasurable early evening with some very interesting note-swapping. I think Nigel’s notes to me will have helped me far more than my notes will have helped Nigel. I don’t suppose he minds.
Wednesday 13 August: A Sad Day At Stuart Morris’s Funeral
A few week’s ago Janie and I were shocked to learn that Stuart, Annalisa’s husband, had died suddenly and unexpectedly of heart failure. We resolved to keep the funeral day free and attended the moving and dignified ceremony at Bierton Crematorium.
In truth, we did not know Stuart well, having met him perhaps once or twice before attending Annalisa & Stuart’s wedding, all those years ago:
But of course we did know Annalisa well and wanted to be there for her. As it turned out, it was a very large gathering, as Stuart had been extremely popular and well -regarded by friends, police colleagues and even his latter-day colleagues from Whipsnade Zoo, whom Stuart had not known for long but the several who attended seemed much affected by their time with him, which had been so cruelly cut short.
Thursday 14 August: Nat Oaks Concert At Lord’s, Before & After Which Was Some Tennis & Cricket
I love being able to combine tennis and cricket on visits to Lord’s. Not least when this combination of activity affords the opportunity to watch some cricket with a fellow tennis player or two. On this occasion, some relatively gentle doubles (playing entirely left-handed at the time having torn my bicep tendon in late July), followed by The Hundred matches between the London Spirit and Trent Rockets, with Nat Oaks performing in-between.
…was one of the four again. This time, we had the opportunity to watch some cricket and contemporary music together after our game. It was great to watch some cricket with Max, as we had never much discussed cricket before, given the highly focussed nature of our mind sets, and therefore conversation, when playing tennis.
Max had never watched women’s cricket live before and I think was quite taken with it when observed from the rarefied atmosphere of the Lord’s pavilion terrace. We are so privileged being able to use those facilities as “our cricket club-house”.
I’m not sure that Max was as sure about the music of Nat Oaks. I rather liked it, having extensively researched the subject ahead of the match (i.e. I had watched two on-line vids before setting off for Lord’s).
This is what she looked like performing live at Lord’s – thanks to BBC Music:
Max stuck around for almost half of the men’s match. I stuck around for the entire first half of it.
Friday 15 August: A Day Chatting & Eating With Ben Schwarz
It was a most pleasant way to spend a large chunk of the day. We nattered for so long over a pot of tea at Clanricarde Gardens, that by the time we got to The Orangery in Kensington Gardens, they’d stopped serving the lunch menu and had moved on to the high tea menu. A suitable venue for high tea, we shared one of those and then strolled in the gardens chatting some more.
This photo, in truth, from 1994, but the look of the place on a sunny day hasn’t changed
Naturally, we didn’t quite complete the list of topics we had been hoping to discuss, so we’ll chat some more in the autumn. It will be interesting to compare notes from our respective times in the USA when next we meet.
Photos by Janie – talk about “focus on the food, not the people”
Actually that headline photo is an aberration. The focus of planning this get together was very much about the people, not so much the food. A long in the planning date to meet up with Pady Jalali on her long-delayed visit to London. Her previous visit had been planned for June 2023…
…but those plans went awry because Pady suffered an injury just prior to her planned trip.
This time, even more sadly, Pady had to cancel her trip due to the demise of her beloved father. As with the June 2023 gathering, we considered cancelling the whole event, then decided that we were in any case overdue for a John, Mandy, Janie and Ian gathering, so went ahead nonetheless.
After much debate, having been assigned “choose the restaurant” duties, Janie and I settled on Tatar Bunar, a new Ukrainian Restaurant in Shoreditch, which had been very well received in the gastro-press-and-media-world in the spring, e.g.:
Not all that many high-quality and trendy restaurants open on a Sunday evening, but Tatar Bunar does. Those criteria, together with the helpful (meet part way) location helped get that place the gig.
There we are, the people. Above, me and Mandy tucking in. Below, John listening intently, learning all about the food and wine from the charming, knowledgeable and helpful waitress.
It was lovely to see John and Mandy again – first meal out together for some while. We did some catching up and we raised a glass to Pady and her family. It was such a shame that Pady couldn’t be with us again this time.
And then there was the food:
Oh wow! Yes, dumplings can be subtle, even if super-sized.
We enjoyed trying the Ukrainian wines, which matched extremely well with the Ukrainian foods. The foodie reviews linked above will give you far more detail and precision about the food than we could, other than to say that we found every dish we tried interesting and delicious. And we tried plenty, given the sharing plates concept.
Unlike some sharing plates places, we found the guidance from our waitress helpful in terms of sizing the meal as well as in recommending things to try when we explained our tastes, preferences and limitations.
John was wowed, Mandy was lulled into a state of tranquillity. Legal notice: most if not all of those empty and near empty wine glasses had been drained by others of us, not Mandy; the appearance is just a camera angle thing.
We’d had a lovely evening. Hopefully we’ll do something similar again soon and hopefully we’ll get to see Pady again soon.
