Text 3250, 82 rader
Skriven 2010-10-30 16:27:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: trip 675
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Revised flight times had been: 1619 1000. Fast Track immigration
took moments, and we were out and at the Tube by around 1020.

Our credit cards didn't work in the machine, one of the few
times on this trip that this happened - restaurants, shops,
and more importantly the transit systems in Dublin and
Vienna accepted them, so we had to go to the real person
window and get our Oyster cards refilled.

Downstairs, the unwelcome announcement "We are experiencing
severe delays on the Piccadilly Line due to an earlier
malfunctioning signal at Finsbury Park." Okay, that's what,
ten miles down the road? Whatever. We waited nearly half an
hour for a train, which eventually lurched its way slowly to
Acton Town, where we waited over half an hour until allowed
to continue on our way, somewhat faster but still quite
under normal. We were supposed to switch to the District
line, which we eventually did at Earls' Court - for future
reference, the transfer is easier at Barons' Court or even
better, Hammersmith.

Off the District line at Victoria, then onto the Southern
train to Streatham Hill, a refreshingly speedy trip for a
change. [Unfortunately, at some point Lilli lost her Oyster
card; so henceforth she traveled using various kinds of
day passes, which worked out fine but for the lost of ten
quid or so on the pass.] Our friends G and B's comfortable
home is only a couple hundred paces from the station, and we
were happy of that. We were welcomed at around 1300 as the
exhausted travelers that we were, and after washing up were
served a nice Sri Lankan lunch of chicken curry and yellow
split peas with coconut, prepared extra mild for Lilli's
delicate palate.

After which we wandered about Lambeth a bit (nothing much
of note there - just a reasonably civilized suburb) and
returned for the evening.

Bed felt mighty good that night.

I was going to show Lilli my old stomping grounds, so we took
the bus to Paddington, which the driver turned off at Marble
Arch, so instead we walked through Hyde Park, Knightsbridge,
and South Kensington, ending up somehow at Bibendum. I gave
her a little song and dance about how it's my friend
Nicholas's favorite restaurant, la la la (Nicholas's other
favorite London restaurants are or were a peculiar lot, in
order of goodness Vama, Brasserie St. Quentin, and Daquise),
and started walking off, whereupon she grabbed my arm and
stopped me, saying, you really want to eat here, don't you,
so I allowed that I did but hadn't planned on spending that
kind of money for lunch. It didn't take much convincing to
get me up those stairs and into the store. The girl really
does know me.

Despite my relative disarrayed appearance, we were welcomed
nicely and given a fine window table: I feel that I could
not have been responsible for this consideration.

Bread was terrific, and butter was better (though cold) and
went well with the Zefir Viognier that I'd ordered because
I was hot and bothered from all the walking.

I started with grilled pigeon breast on polenta with a wine
demi-glace: requested blue rare, it came blue rare and
very delicious. Kidneys in cream and pepper, also ordered
rare, were tasty, though for some reason the cores of a
couple of them hadn't been properly cut out. These came
with a garnish of carrot strings tossed in grainy mustard
and French beans on the side.

Lilli had a spectacular perfectly done filet, also with
French beans.

A perfectly respectable but somewhat forgettable Medoc went
with - though being youngish and purplish, it had lost much
of its fruit and turned into a stemmy superior bourgeois
nonentity.

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