London is gripped by a heatwave. The Crofton Park to Blackfriars line is experiencing signalling failures. The media panic and the economy gets another weather-related justification for its timid recovery. Iced coffee is making the headlines. Beyond that, it’s a day for aimless wandering.
Chris and I arrived in Central too late for the dérive we had planned. (Somewhat ironic – Situationist tactics thwarted by an over-reliance on public transport.) We end up in Victoria, then a little north of Victoria, in this café/farmshop. It’s in the somewhat Parisian square here in Pimlico, where T-shirted Londoners happily bump into their neighbours in the street. It’s like WestEnders, the antithesis to the East: the sun shines, everyone’s smiling, peering into local independent furniture shops with their loved ones, or sipping ginger beer in a farmshop.
They sell organic food and drink. We have ginger beers – extra potent. The sandwiches look great. £1.75 a ginger beer, £3.50 a sandwich – not unusually expensive, too much for me though. The shop is bright and spacious, with organic aromas grappling with baked bread for nose-attention. This is a place for attractive people, and Chris and I wonder how soon til we’re chucked out. We keep our heads down and discuss trivial things. No music accompanies us, out front of the café, but a rich soundtrack of cutlery and nearby traffic. Daylesford negotiates the country into the city with some skill, all credit to them for that.