What are friends for?

You may well get VERY bored hearing me going on about my friends and friendship in general, in fact you may already pretty well catatonic. Truth be told, I believe friends and friendship
to be, quite simply, the most important things in life. They certainly are in my life, defining and guiding me, helping me to be the best I can be as a human being, but they also remind me that life is not only about taking. Giving features in any conversation about friendship, and sometimes we have to give more, others less, in order to be real friends, friends who care.

It may seem obvious but there is no friendship without caring, in fact no human relationship of whatever hue - if you connect with someone at any level you must care somewhat and in some way. Those of us who go through life removed from emotion - the hard ones, as perhaps they see themselves - in truth have few friends that aren't bought and paid for in one way or another, not necessarily directly financial.

Well I know what MY friends are for: their mission in life is to treat me to lots of lovely lunches, accompanied by gallons of superb wine! And one of these friends invited me to lunch the other day, to a restaurant with which he has a professional relationship as a wine merchant and which boasts a Michelin star. His reason for this kind gesture was to say thank you for my help in making his (and his wife's, of course...!) 25th wedding anniversary trip to Greece a great success. Well, it wasn't really necessary and he knows it, but he is generous and kind, not the sort of person you would want to disappoint by turning down his invitation. So I went along to Clapham old town, ready to suffer for my beliefs...

Make fun, you unbelievers, not sold on eating well; I worked hard for my pleasure as the chef chose the occasion to test his ideas for a new menu, a guinea pig role for which I am temperamentally suited and extremely willing. MY efforts were not in vain, though, as not only was the food spectacular to look at (the pics show this clearly...) but bursting with flavours cleverly interwoven, satisfying but not rich, complex but harmonious. My only gripe, a very slight one at that, was that there was little variation in the texture - I love a bit of crunch here and there - and that only really came into play in the desert, a truly spectacular tarte tatin which I forgot to photograph for you.

To show my true colours as a friend not only did I work my way through the food but forced myself to down agreeable quantities of wine as well, kicking off with a small glass of champagne. The first couple of courses, being fishy, were accompanied by an excellent 1er cru Chablis Forets from Moreau Naudet, complex and mouth filling but with the steely backbone of a 'traditional' Chablis. On this occasion a magnum would have been even better, if not for our health... The Barolo that accompanied our main course was from a modest estate that produces excellent wine in the current style, and our 2009 was no exception despite the difficulties of the vintage. Full but not massive, complex but not excessively so, this went down very well with our gamey main course and drank in a way that would have been inconceivable for old-style Barolo of a similar age. We had a half bottle of sweet wine with the tarte tatin, but I neglected to even note its name, though I remember it as pleasantly mouth-filling but not cloying.

Apparently all good things come to an end, and this lunch certainly did after a double espresso to keep us going for the rest of the day, alas not accompanied by lots of fine cognac - I know, I weep even as I write this - due to further obligations and a need to be able to navigate home successfully, which I duly managed. The warm, humid weather was not, in any case, conducive to significant spirit consumption  if physical effort (i.e any form of movement...) was called for!


Next time your friends tell you how much they care test their mettle: Force them to read this post and then ask them where and when they plan on taking you to lunch to show their appreciation for your true, magnificent friendship. That will sort them out, you'll see, as the good ones take you to their favourite place and order nice things; as this is according to their means even a home event is allowed if it is accompanied by decent wine, good conversation, conviviality and laughter, much laughter, priceless laughter.

I look forward to the day when I can, once again, offer my friends the same warmth and hospitality that they regularly extend to me. And you, dear reader, if you have friends look after them, however you can, as life is a strange old thing - they may not be there tomorrow.

P.S. : I'm finishing this at the home of friends where I've been staying for the weekend, and where good food, great company, laughter and mutual feelings of affection and respect are in evidence.

And their dogs are pretty wonderful too!

A funny thing happened...

You won't believe this, but today it started raining sometime in the afternoon and it's still raining, even though it's nearly midnight. Raining... in London, I ask you... you couldn't make it up!

Now before you start calling the men in the white coats to take me away and lock me in a padded room somewhere, you must understand that this summer has been unusually hot and dry so far, with minimal rainfall. We have simply, therefore, become unaccustomed to its wet embrace and general dampening demeanour. I have not had to use - or even carry - an umbrella for ages. I vaguely remember some spots of rain a couple of weeks ago, but it was hardly significant; we may be seeing the effects of global warming or, considering the one summer previous to this one that was as hot was 1976, we may just be having a hot summer with little rainfall.

Having impressed you with my wonderful photographs of this green and pleasant land over the last couple of posts I must now explain that, in order to be green, this pleasant land must be watered, i.e. rained upon, at regular intervals so that nature can have its fill; there is no other way. But despite

most non-British people thinking that it does nothing but rain here, except when it's pea-soup foggy, this clearly isn't the case. In some years the lack of adequate rainfall is so pronounced that water consumption restrictions are introduced (the famous hosepipe bans) to stop people from consuming the scarce resource outsiders think of as inexhaustible.
Now let me also explain that rain is

a serious pain in the neck as far as I'm concerned because : (a) I hate umbrellas, (b) I don't much care for raincoats and (c) I hate having my movements restricted by the weather and/or getting soaked. Yet the loveliness of Nature at its verdant best is worth at least some of the inconvenience to my esteemed personage, and the site of a small fawn munching away within (yep, it's in one of the photographs) was just spellbinding.

Forgive my playful, humorous style on a subject (rainfall) that can be very important to sectors of the population, especially farmers who rely on the weather to rain or not to rain at certain times - often their livelihood depends on it. But I am not a farmer, just a silly inhabitant of the metropolis that is London and my interests on the subject are trivial, at least to others. Still, the rain has gone again for now, umbrellas have been put away again and my tan, such as it is and gained by walking around London with the sun shining, is developing apace albeit in the style known as lorry driver's tan. The clouds appear and disappear, even threaten a little bit, but in the end do nothing untoward.

Rain in London, ha-ha, you're 'avin' a laugh... It's a rarity, mate!

Summertime, an' the livin' is easy...

The song is pretty clear on that point, isn't it? And while it's a delightful song and a lovely sentiment it doesn't seem so accurate from where I'm standing; I'm still without full-time paid employment and dependent on the charity of friends and family for my day-to-day existence. On the other hand the weather, even here in London, is pretty glorious and nature is in full bloom all around us, making life more pleasant.

This particular post will major on the beauty that surrounds us every day, whether in town or in the countryside, and on the fact that we should not let atrocities, unpleasantness and hate blind us to this.
The mayor of London Sadiq Khan (no, I did not support his candidacy, but am so far pleasantly surprised by his dignity and authority, as well as by his refusal to bow to populist tactics) has been clear that London remains open and welcoming to all. And he means all, despite attempts by weird, inadequate individuals trying to instill hate and prejudice; the mantra of hate, whatever part of the spectrum it manifests itself is both alien to and unwelcome in London. Tolerance rules and life continues, struggling in the shadow of the Grenfell Tower tragedy for sure with all the loss and sorrow that entails. Yet the summer weather makes every day seem precious, alive, even more enjoyable, even in the shadow of death.

The other day I was lucky enough to spend a few hours by the river Thames in an amazingly relaxed and beautiful setting, more like a country village than London, peaceful and calm, a million miles from hectic city life. Admittedly this peaceful oasis is in a rather expensive part of town, but there are other similar places to be found in less exalted areas; they are one of the reasons that London, despite being one of the world's mega-cities, is known as a collection of villages with intense local colour and feel.

Don't think that London alone carries the banner of beauty this summer, though obviously it is the most inclusive of all the places shown in my photographs. Let us share this beauty and ignore the hatred and bigotry all around us. Let us enjoy the beauty to soften the pain of tragedy and to build hope and dreams for a better future.

Part of what I adore about the summer in Britain is that everything is green and bountiful. In the part of the world where (Greece, if you must know) I was born summer is brutal and nature ends up parched and needy under unforgiving sunny skies, something I also love if I can have access to the cooling Aegean sea. But the smells and the feeling is  so different, though glorious. No wonder I was born on the cusp of Taurus and Gemini, schizophrenic but forceful, with strong opinions.

The other thing I adore is the eccentricity, perhaps even more visible in the summering the form of strange blazers, funny hats and VERY individual dresses, formal or otherwise. It is this individuality that sets London (and Britain) apart from the rest of the world in a good sense (unlike Brexit), that spurs on creativity, that makes this place the intellectual powder keg that it is, punching above its weight.

This is my dedication to my adopted home city, my adopted homeland, the beautiful, eccentric, bountiful, creative, individual Britain. Thank you for the affection, the beauty, the inspiration, the friendship! Enjoy the photographs as much as I enjoyed taking them and being part of the magic of a rare hot British summer.

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside!

Well, of all the funny things to do the other day, I went for a stroll along the beach in the Chichester area, Wittering to be precise. And, apart from the fact that I managed to see a bit too much sun (!!! I know, in England!) and didn't get to have a dip in the sea, I enjoyed myself immensely. Life can be so surprising sometimes.

My lovely friends Chris and Barbara (they sort of feature in one of the photographs) invited me for a weekend at their cottage in Bosham, near Chichester, in Sussex and I was quick to accept, as the weather had been hot for days and I thought it would be nice to get out of London and feel the cooling sea breeze on my face. And so it proved, with the Sussex countryside in full, glorious bloom, lots of sunshine, laughter and relaxation. And food and drink, of course - you know me too well!

The Goodwood Estate just up the road was hosting one of its massive annual events, I think the Festival of Speed, so the whole area was due to be overrun by people and cars, making some destinations (especially nice country pubs!) perhaps difficult to get in to, or to at least enjoy properly. Certain road in the area were also due to be massively busy, especially those giving access to the event. Our solution: avoid Goodwood and environs completely,including all adjoining roads, and stick to our immediate area; this turned out to be an excellent plan.

On Friday evening, after an easy drive down in C + B's car, we opened up the cottage and got it ready to house us over the next couple of nights, then ambled down by Bosham harbour to a lovely brasserie for a bite to eat. The gorgeous flowery lanes just made the walk even more special, the light evening adding to the allure of what it, anyway, a pretty setting; the food and wine at our destination just helped to make it perfect as, through a minor mistake between service and kitchen, we ended up with an extra portion of tasty fish and chips to devour. The mushy peas that accompanied the fish were certainly the best I've tasted in along time. And despite the fact that we were walking back we were very sensible with our drinking - enough for pleasure and no more.

My hosts are prodigious walkers and were contemplating a Saturday spent up hill and down dale, but thankfully they came to their senses: after a restrained breakfast we headed down to East Wittering and spent the morning and early afternoon walking along the beach to West Wittering and back, admiring (surely not the right word...) the various seafront residences, ranging from tumbledown - literally - shack to mock-Tudor mansion, with everything in between. In all we found one house we all thought was interesting and looked as if you could perhaps live in it for more than a weekend here and there and a month in the summer. Some houses were decrepit or had an air of abandonment, others were well maintained and/or busy with people enjoying the weather and a meal. The beach itself is long and unremarkable apart from the distant views and, on the day, was quite busy with people (even in the water), especially as we approached West Wittering with its organised cafe and water sports area.

The cafe is nothing to write home about, but still of a much higher level to many other similar establishments of the not too distant past (remember the Fawlty Towers styleof catering establishment?), with cheerful young serving staff and a nice if plain interior. My cappuccino, from a fully automatic machine, was drinkable, but only just, as was my friends' tea, though their cake looked pretty good (no, I was not jealous!), and I was grateful for the shade indoors. Most people were sitting outside in the sun baking but I demurred as, having being lulled into a sense of false security due to the cloud cover earlier, I had left my hat in the car and was feeling hot and bothered, despite my Mediterranean roots.

The walk back along the beach with the tide well out was more pleasant, with a light breeze and easier walking on the moist hard-packed sand, but I was still pleased to be back in East Wittering where the lovely fishmonger was offering local crabs at an excellent price, thereby solving our lunch issues together with the neighbouring greengrocer. The resulting crab salad sandwiches were not only excellent but light, thus leaving room for the main event - a pub supper - that evening. A mutual friend decided to join us a bit later and we spent the early evening playing croquet good-naturedly but with mixed success, at least for me. Well, when I say mixed success I mean complete disaster, completely ruining my team-mate's chances but increasing everyone's appetite; laughter does that for you!

Our destination for dinner was not a million miles away by car and is apparently renowned in the area for its fresh local fish selection, especially the fish and chips. I know that fried food is not great for one's health nor for an already enlarged physique such as mine, but I could not resist trying the fish and chips in order to compare with that of the previous evening (excuses, excuses...!), especially as they seemed to be selling countless portions. We did try counting, as we were seated next to the serving hatch, but so many were going out and the live singing was - unsuccessfully for me - warbling and distracting away, so countless they shall remain. The food was good but possibly not exceptional, and not unreasonably priced. The service on a teeming Saturday evening, with the sun shining and the singer wailing away, was justifiably a little slow but charming. And the view of the water was just lovely, a great background picture for a super evening, low on alcohol (for the driver, anyway) but high on good spirits and simple enjoyment. Life rarely gets better than this as far as I'm concerned, and I think that my photographs, clumsy as they are, somewhat support my assertion.

 All good things must come to an end according to a well-known expression, and my stint at the seaside had to end too after another quiet evening and a good night's sleep at my friends' cottage. Sunday morning saw us breakfasting, then getting ready to lock up and leave to go back to C & B's home near Guildford, a short, easy drive on that Sunday morning, then for me a train ride back to the Big Smoke, London to you and me, clutching my little suitcase. And taking with me the warmth of the sun, and of true friendship.