November: Shaping up nicely

On October 25, 2014March 30, 2015 By Conversations with StrangersIn Food and drinks, LondonLeave a comment

It’s got to be one of my favourite months of the year. My birthday, the change in seasons, crisp cold winter days, burnt orange leaves and sparkling lights everywhere signpost festive frivolity and hunkering down.

September and October have passed and one has – with a bit of luck – now settled in to some sort of other weatherly routine. Saturday night TV takes on new significance, the eternal sound of fireworks, at least in London, carries on into December and a few more chunky layers of clothing are added. It’s cosy, with a kind of mystery and magic that darker evenings and earthy bonfire scents bring.

I headed to my local wine shop around 7.30pm to get some champagne for the big day. Stepping out into a fresh evening wearing a wool scarf for the first time this year and some boots, I was almost there when the phone rang.

“I want to get a date in the diary for our combined birthdays” Rosie told me. I couldn’t have agreed more and jotted it down immediately for a few weekend’s time. “I’ll see if my brother can get us in somewhere nice.” “Lovely” I replied. “Ask him about Loulou’s? I love it there. It’ll take you straight back to Oxford Poly in the 80’s.”

The door of The Winery ding dinged as I opened it to the soft glow of mellow lighting and a real fire flickering in the hearth.

“I’ve come for some of your finest Amyot” I said. “Oh yes. An excellent champagne – best kept secret and all that” Dan said with a smile.

A couple of opened red wine bottles stood on a tall barrel and I was offered a taste. I savoured my first sip of the season.

The door bell tinkled again. A blonde girl entered and looked at me: “I know you. We met at that Greek restaurant in the summer – remember?” I did indeed. We talked birthdays: “It was mine yesterday” she said. “No way! Happy Birthday!” I said. “Actually I’m having a party in a couple of weeks time. Would you like to come? It’s in Marylebone.” “Love to – thanks!” I replied as she took my number.

I glanced at the diary for November. From lunch and dinner with old friends and family, a couple of parties, The Dream Boys and Los Hermanos Cubanos; it was looking pretty damn fine.

The spot

On June 6, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Food and drinks, London2 Comments

We’d breezed into the Chiltern Firehouse at 7pm on a Friday night. It’s an inconspicuous entrance as befits a place where there are a lot of loud voices inside who know who they are and who know other people know who they are.

Naturally there was nothing banal on the menu, champagne cocktails presided closely followed by the more de rigeur martinis. I asked for one that wasn’t on the menu: “But only if it’s made with Agave Syrup” I said to the waitress, “Otherwise, a glass of rose please.” “I’m sure we make a good one here” she said confidently.

Our French waiter assured us our pleasure was his pleasure as he placed a scrumptious looking Margarita with crushed rock salt around the outside down along with a glass of white wine for Nicole. We clinked glasses and watched as two Indian gentlemen sat down next to us. I couldn’t take my eyes off the cardboard packet that was placed on the table between them.

One of them spotted me and I took my chance. “May I have one please? Are they cigarettes?” “Ah, no, but happiness is a cigar named Hamlet….if you remember the advert?” “Well, I was a baby” I replied. “But yes.” He offered me one and I accepted, then lit it for me. “Do I inhale?” I asked. “Of course, it would be a crime not to.”

Our food came and we ate, savouring the deliciousness of a May evening outside with the frisson of a ‘place’ to accompany it. We listened to an American gentleman on his phone: “I’m at the Chiltern. Yeah, it’s like, the spot. Look, about the movie, it’s metaphorical, right? I’ll meet him here, that’s all I want is to do is to reach out to James. Perfect. Perfect. Call me. Anytime. Yeah. I’ll be up at 1 in the morning.”

The Indian gentlemen paid their check as I explained to Nicole what life was really about.

Moments later Hamlet man rose to go: “I hope the cigar brings you happiness tonight. And, I listened to your advice.” “About what?” I said. “About life” he replied nodding sagely.

I headed to the Ladies. The sound of a myriad swishing doors opening and closing surrounded me. I spied an ornate gold dish and asked one of the many flat capped doorman where it came from. “It’s the new celebrity dog bowl” he replied. A suave curly haired Maitre’D opened another door, “Quite extraordinary” I replied. “There’s something very 1980’s Versace about it”. He laughed. “Yes, of course Madame.”

We paid our bill. “What’s with the plain black matchbox” I asked yet another waiter. “Oh, we’re just not sure how we want to brand it yet” he said. “The Standard in New York – it took them 10 weeks to figure out the design of the match boxes there.” “Of course” I said, “You have to live in a place for a while first before you know what colour to paint the walls.”

A festive fling

On December 24, 2013December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Life, London, PartiesLeave a comment

As befits this time of year I had high hopes for my third dance in almost as many weeks.

9pm found a few friends and I sipping martini’s in the 007 bar at Dukes Hotel. When a mature bartender in a white jacket with a silver cocktail glass badge approaches the table wheeling a tray full of drinks accoutrements, you don’t bother asking for a menu.

“Antonio” I said to our waiter, ‘This is the best dry vodka martini with a twist I’ve ever had, and I love the way you mix it at the table”. He grinned. “I’m so pleased. The lemons are from Sicily, I think they add that special touch’.

The evening floated by. A girl at the table next to us leant over. ‘My friend has just left, and I’ve still got a bottle of champagne left to drink – would you like to join me?’ Introductions were made and the chat flowed. Antonio brought us more macadamia nuts and little round things which didn’t do much to soak up the by now heady mixture of grape and grain.

People drifted off, but magic was in the air and the night was alive with possibilities. “Shall we go dancing?” I asked Naz, our new friend. “Well, we could go to Loulou’s but I go there all the time – I’m so sick of it”. “What and where is it?” I asked. “It’s the hottest club in town” she replied.

She was right. Half an hour later saw us descend to the basement of 5 Hertford Street. Suits and ties were de rigeur for the men and anything short and sassy for the girls. I felt the beat of the disco floor and I was there. “Stayin’ alive’ greeted me and I danced with abandon.

Venturing up to the glass atrium, I got chatting to a man wearing a ring with a picture of Jesus in the middle surrounded by diamonds. A lady called Dee Dee joined us and produced a slim packet of Vogue cigarettes. “They’re so cool” she said. “You sort of click them and a little blast of mintyness comes out” She took the Marlborough Light out of my hand, crushed it under her foot and said “Here have one of mine instead”.

Back on the dancefloor, arguably the song of 2013 came on. Suddenly most of 5 Hertford Street were there: a final festive fling in the right place, at the right time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZS0EpKu6RQ

The red cups are back

On November 15, 2013December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Food and drinks, LondonLeave a comment

In my opinion, few things encapsulate the run up to Christmas in London so much as the appearance of the red cups at Starbucks. Not somewhere I usually frequent, at this time of year I make an exception.

I looked up at the menu board. It would have to be a gingerbread latte, with whipped cream of course. “How many shots of that syrup do you put in” I asked the young boy serving me. “Well, it depends on what size you have” he replied. I looked at the small – more like a medium, the medium – more like a large, and the large – a veritable bucket. “Okay, let’s say a small” I said. “That’s three shots”. “Can you make it just one and a half please” I asked him, “And, I’ll have another one just regular”.

“Nutmeg on the top?” he asked. ‘Yes please, and cinnamon”. “That’s over there by the milk” he said pointing further down the cafe. “Great! And, both extra hot please”. “No problem” he said. “What’s your name?” “Bruschetta” I replied.

He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Really?” “Yes” I replied without pausing.

“Two gingerbread lattes for Bruschetta” he called out to his fellow barista at the coffee machine. “That’s my Starbucks name” I said, smiling. “It’s a bit long” he said. “Why don’t you shorten it?” Thinking that would be the least of his concerns with my ‘name’, I said “No! That’s what it is and I’m not changing it for anyone”. We both tittered away merrily.

I walked away from the counter to find the cinnamon, and moments later heard the barista shout out: “Two gingerbread lattes for Bruschetta!” A few people looked up as I made my way back to the counter and picked up my red cups. “No need to put the lid on that one” I said. “I like to eat the topping first – otherwise it just melts into it and you may as well never have had it”.

I asked for a spoon and dipped it into a soft swirled mountain of cream, scooping up a mouthful decked with a sprinkling of powdery cinnamon and nutmeg. It dissolved almost instantly. I took a sip of my latte and the first taste of the festive season was upon me: Spicy, warm and comforting.

A little piece of history

On July 22, 2013December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Life, London, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

At 8pm this evening the Lindo Wing was on my mind. Would I continue watching the news coverage at home, and ‘Taylor and Burton’ to be aired shortly at 9pm, or take a trip down to Paddington to view history in the making?

I needed food anyway. I decided I’d walk out and see where my mood took me. Throwing some sandals on and slinging a bag across my shoulder, I walked out into the sweltering London heat and found myself ambling increasingly quickly along Little Venice canal.

20 minutes later found me a few metres away from the Lindo Wing at St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington acutely aware of the fact that at moments like this – and there have been a few in the last couple of years – London really does seem like the only place to be.

I looked up at a surly policeman: ‘May I walk down this road please? I’d love to see what’s going on’, I said smiling. He didn’t smile back but nodded in the direction behind him and said, ‘You can walk along there, Love – see how far you get’.

I did – past a steadily growing crowd and an enormous bank of photographers -the likes of which I hadn’t seen since the expectant parents’ wedding celebrations at Buckingham Palace. I struck up a conversation with a Japanese girl. ‘She’s been in labour 16 hours now’, she stated. ‘Really?’ I replied. ‘Yes, the same as Diana was with William’. I asked her if I could go in front of her momentarily to take a photo and she kindly acquiesced.

Moments later I found myself in the press pit with a plum position directly opposite the Lindo wing, and availing of the photographer from Rex Features’ step ladder. ‘As long as you don’t knock my can of Coke off the top of that, you can take a photo’, he said gruffly. I chatted to him and told him my cousin used to work for Rex. ‘Oh yeah? When was that? I’ve been there nine years now’.

At this stage, firmly ensconced with a myriad of photographers from Mexico and Japan to Australia and China, I found myself in conversation with one from the Agence France-Presse (AFP). He’d been there since 8am and was taking instructions from his colleague several rungs up a ladder just to my right. ‘I’m an intern actually’ he said sort of sheepishly. ‘I just finished film studies at Falmouth a week ago’. ‘Wow, you were lucky to get this gig then!’ I said. ‘How did you do?’ I asked. ‘A 2:1’, he replied whilst Pierre shouted at him: ‘Ethan, keep that loaded, I might need the battery in a moment’.

Apple Macs were everywhere and the organised jostling of a paparazzi press pack that took no prisoners were in typically jaded matter-of-fact form. ‘What’s everyone waiting for now?’ a few people asked them. The photographers shrugged their shoulders whilst they mounted their ladders ever higher. Something was afoot, and as usual they knew it before anybody else but they weren’t telling.

A roar went up from the crowd to my left. Cheers rang out and clapping. ‘Oh!!!! It’s a boy! It’s a boy!’ the woman next to me cried. ‘Kensington Palace have just announced it!’ It was too exciting. Along with everybody else, I held my hopelessly inadequate camera phone up just at the moment the Lindor Wing door opened and a smartly suited man descended the stairs carrying what looked like a leather bound folder. He handed it quickly to the waiting Royal car which then sped off carrying the very same announcement that would be placed on an easel outside Buckingham Palace gates not 20 minutes later.

A town crier came out and rang the bells. No one could understand a word he was shouting – such was the jubilation. Then a couple walked past wearing Kate and William masks. ‘Over ‘ere Kate and Wills! Over ‘ere!’ shouted a mass of paps.

I looked at the photographer deeply ensconced on his laptop on my left. He looked familiar. Tapping him on the shoulder I said, ‘We know each other, don’t we?’ We worked out that we’d studied tailoring some years ago together and caught up with what we were doing now.

Just as I realised it couldn’t get any better, I heard a policewoman behind me: ‘Oi, are you Press?’ she shouted. I looked directly at her as I stepped down off my perch for the evening: ‘No, I’m heading; no problem’. I caught a fellow history witnesser’s eye: ‘Well, you had a good long stint up there’, he commented with a smile as I said goodbye to my new pap friends and headed home to watch it all over again on the 10 O’Clock news.