The Crooked Well (I ♥ SE London 4eva.)

We were running late, not late late but late so I assumed we’d be shuffled off to our table, menus thrust in hand whilst the plight to turn the table began. It didn’t happen.

We arrived (10 minutes late) for Sunday lunch, were greeted and asked if we’d like to have a drink at the bar before being seated. YES! Yes, please. We hopped on bar stools sank a Bloody Mary and an Earl Grey Martini, flicked through the Sunday papers and eventually took our seats. What a novelty. I’m so used to being shunted around in restaurants that if anyone gives me time to get my shit together and puts me at ease then you’ve already won me over.

We had an early lunch booking (12.30) and the restaurant and bar area were steadily filling up. So much to choose from on the menu and if the look of the plates being delivered to other tables and the devourers rosy-faced contentment is anything to go by then it was all good. We finally decided on:

Starter: Salt and pepper squid
Properly salty with a simple leaf salad and olive oil dressing. I am the queen of all squid related food and this was truly good. Better than Gordan Ramsay at Maze good. I wanted to order it again for my desert.

Main course: Roast lamb, spiced aubergine, tzatziki and jus for 2
Perfectly cooked, we carved and we ate. Oh, how we ate. Sides included roast potatoes, an enormous Yorkshire pudding and seasonal greens. Everything was fresh, well cooked and seasoned. SEASONED! I wasn’t super impressed with the roast potatoes but then we’re all very special when it comes to our roast potato expectations.

Desert: Pavlova with berries and another Earl Grey Martini
Ziiiing. Perfect ending to the meal.

The service is relaxed, knowledgable, friendly and always present. The tables and their diners are given space to talk, eat and flail their arms around if they want. And the cocktails. Oh, sweet mercy, the cocktails. Just go. We’re going again. And again. And again.

The Crooked Well, Camberwell (I love SE London 4eva.)

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Happy Valentine’s Day

Alone with Everybody
Charles Bukowski

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
and nobody finds the
but keep
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than

there’s no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else

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Got some time to kill? End it with Retronaut.

What’s that? You’d like to see Pablo Picasso wearing a cow’s head on a beach? DONE. Louis Armstrong at the Pyramids? DONE.

Click on the images for more info.

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Old Love

This Old Love website is addictive. Set some time aside and give yourself over.

Jack Nicholson and Anjelica Huston / Barbra Streisand and Elliot Gould / F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda

via Isabelle OC

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