Gay Camberwell

by Layla

Roz and I spent the bank holiday weekend at the Edinburgh festival fringe (5 shows: Jack Whitehall, Big Breakfast sketch show, No Child, some random Monty Python-esque sketch show, and NewsRevue) and my brother's wedding but decided to jump on the train early to enjoy a bank holiday afternoon back in sunny Camberwell.

Our first stop was the brand new Burgess Park cafe. As you may know, the lovely Chumleigh Gardens cafe closed this weekend and has been replaced with a brand new, shiny cafe in a slightly different location. As intrepid gastronomes, we sought it out.

The new cafe has been resited to incorporate some of the ugliest views in the park. Essentially it looks out over Albany Road and some ugly housing estates in the background. In the foreground is the new children's play park. This is already a massive disappointment after the beautiful surroundings of the Islamic Garden in the old cafe. But this cafe caters to a different demographic - the family with children. The cafe itself, apart from being an unsightly fluorescent green, seems very nice, with a good menu, reasonable prices, and breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea options. It has indoor (green) and outdoor seating. The food was good - fresh and tasty, though alas Roz's baked potato and beans, and my three cheese and caramelised onion quiche were both lukewarm. They were accompanied by a nice fresh salad and claim locally sourced produce. Of course they also claim to be 'London's premier park cafe' and 'South London's premier cafe' on their menu... Apart from the loss of the lovely setting, I also object to my cup of tea in the park being turned into a frolicking child show. Sitting outside, you are obliged to watch a million children running in and out of the fountains and dancing around the sandpit. Which is presumably fantastic if you have a child: a very handy and civilised new entertainment venue. But for those who don't envision a perfect afternoon as sipping tea to the sight of prancing children, we have lost a much-loved venue in the park... Hopefully they will expand the seating to go round the side for those who want to look out over greenery rather than children, cars and tower blocks... 

After our lunch we took a deep breath and strapped on our roller skates - a feat as we have not tried roller skating for such a long time that neither of us could remember how to do so. Nor could we really skate at all. But we had an entertaining time staggering up and down the pathway in the park as locals gave us encouraging grins. 

And so onward to Safa, whose service was disappointing but food delicious. As we ate, we peered at the new Chinese restaurant across the road which looks as though it is on the brink of opening. And then to the moment we had been anticipating: the New Gallery London had a private view tonight. This new gallery/bar/cafe/social space is owned by the same people who own Bar Story in Peckham, and on its first night tonight was already populated by a glitter of fashionable art students. I was intrigued to note, ladies and gentlemen, that according to the art students of Camberwell, the moustache is back... We had bottled beer (£3 each) and sampled their vine leaves and olives (free) while peering at art. It's a bright, industrial-looking white space that is clearly not quite finished, but this is going to be a major Camberwell destination and a great place to drink and look at art. On the other hand, the bright young things started to make us feel less so... and we headed off home to bed.

by Layla


First, the art. On Friday night a group of us took ourselves to not one but two local private views in a Camberwell gallery hopping extravaganza. First up was the excellent GX Gallery, who had a new show of the top students' work from the local art colleges. Cue a diverse and interesting array of art, to be enjoyed over a free glass of wine in the rather lovely setting of the GX Gallery. I must confess I had underestimated this gallery. Of course there is the nice framing/card shop on the ground floor, and I was aware of the sleek gallery round the side, all sliding glass doors and stark white walls and black tiles. It's a small area. I had failed to realise there is a staircase to a large and intriguing lower level which sports exposed brick, quirky original features, and some unusual art display options. The private view was absolutely packed full of the artists and their friends in arty, fashionable garb and the air was ringing with 'darling's... In fact we even ran into an artist friend from the days of lesbian exhibition club. And coveted a cool sign saying 'Camberwell Green'. Alas that wasn't for sale...

After that, it was a saunter down Coldharbour Lane to the Red Gate Gallery, always a favourite, mainly due to their very sweet little bar, and pretty fairylight-adorned cobblestone lane to access the gallery. The lane is shared by a theatrical props company and on Friday they were working flat out on an array of Notting Hill Carnival costumes, so we squeezed past the bright glitter and silks to the show. We're rarely overwhelmed with the art here, but it is more experimental and quirky than the GX, with a highly diverse programme that changes every week, and a very sweet and enthusiastic gallery owner. And, on Friday, free quiche, which was extra pleasing...

But we at Gay Camberwell are not all about the art. As blog readers will know, Roz and I have been dreaming of playing ping pong ever since Ping London erected a table in Camberwell Green. We bought bats and balls specially. But due to its extreme popularity, despite passing it about a hundred times, day and night, we can never manage to find the table unoccupied. Today, cycling home from the Brixton Ritzy, we spotted it was free. We zoomed home for our bats and balls and started playing with glee. We were not alone for more than about three points. A man started watching. Then another. Then a little boy. We started to feel self conscious, but then we got into it - everyone was loving the ping pong, giving us advice, keeping the score, running after the ball after an overvigorous shot. One guy told us our ball was too light and let us borrow his. Then I played someone. Then more people played. And there we were, a wide range of races and backgrounds, all playing ping pong together. When we left someone else had produced bats and people were settling in for the evening. Roz and I were so impressed that we have written to the Council to ask them to install a table permanently.

The art in Camberwell is clearly here to stay. Let's hope we can say the same of the ping pong... 

By Layla

I never dreamed that I would become a cycling enthusiast. As a child I had a clunky folding bike (not a neat, cool one like a Brompton; it just folded in half to aid in parents transporting it to the seaside on sunny days). It came complete with a polystyrene helmet that made people mock me. I wobbled along at snail's pace. And once I turned 14, the reign of the bicycle ended for what I thought would be forever. 

I had reckoned without Roz, who is an exceptionally enthusiastic cyclist. By which I don't mean lycra and accessories and tearing up mountains on a weekend, but rather using her bicycle exclusively to transport herself around London. No buses. No tubes. No trains. At first I was sceptical. I had developed a random devotion to TFL. But as we started living together, at the end of a night out it became frustrating when Roz would pedal off home, leaving me stranded at a bus stop. It was particularly frustrating when she'd send me a smug text message announcing her arrival at our flat while I trundled slowly home in a motorised vehicle. Even more frustrating when I received said smug text message while I was still standing at the bus stop gazing hopefully at the horizon for a number 12. 

Eventually I cracked, and after a wobbly, fearful start, I realised it was indeed 'just like riding a bicycle' - plus it is fast, free, good exercise, and extremely convenient. Like an obsessed evangelist, I suddenly became a smug cyclist, expressing scorn at anyone choosing public transport over the delights of the bicycle. Which is why I have been really quite excited by the new cycle hire scheme that hit London a couple of weeks ago. And despite Roz and I  both owning bikes, we signed up. Unlimited 30 minute journeys for a year awaited us (or pay for longer).

A couple of nights ago we were at Polari, London's gay literary salon, which was fantastic. But it was at Barcode, in Piccadilly. And I'd come without my bike. And, to my frustration, also without my brand new cycle hire membership key. I realised how convenient the new scheme could be and cursed myself. 

Thus today, with the need to go to Victoria to return a purchase, I resolved to experiment. Not especially conveniently, alas, as the most convenient cycle hire station for me was at Oval. It took me 18 minutes to walk there. It would have taken me 18 minutes to cycle from home to Victoria, but that was beside the point!

It was a poor day to plan a cycle experiment. As I stepped out of my front door, the first raindrops started to fall. But I was on a mission. I walked up Camberwell New Road, past The Bear, past Kamera Obscura (a couture designer in an unexpected location), past the Union Bar and the Black Sheep, and was rewarded by the farmers' market at Oval - I'm not sure why I've never previously visited, but it was a bit of a delight. Set rather picturesquely in the grounds of a church, there is an impressive array of items, from plants to vegetables to meats to organic breads, as might be expected, but also some interesting specialty stalls and some deli-style offerings. They have a little cafe with outdoor seats, and the effect is local and social and cheery. I had to restrain myself from purchasing some delicious-looking scones. I could not be distracted from my mission.

The bikes are not at Oval station, but just up Kennington Road. Roz, who has an iPhone app that knows these things (apparently the free one is good and the 60p one less so), and having found said bike hire station empty when she tried to get one yesterday, informed me that there would be 9 bikes available. This was indeed accurate. With some trepidation I approached. But it was delightfully easy. I chose a bike and adjusted the seat (very easy) to its lowest position. I positioned my handbag on its little basket and strapped it in with the elastic bits - very effective; my bag was a bit flimsy and didn't close properly but was held securely. I'd like that sort of basket on my own bike. Finally, I popped my membership key into the slot on my bike stand. The light flashed yellow, then green, and I pulled it out of its slot. The bike was mine!

I was a little wobbly at first but soon set off, bound for Victoria. The bike felt heavy, and its three gears seem a bit stingy, and for some reason it hurt my arms. I felt a bit like I was on an exercise bike at the gym, with the settings turned to 'hill'. But nevertheless, it zipped along. I was overtaken by normal bikes, but that's not absolutely unusual for me... I had no problem mounting Vauxhall Bridge, and my journey to Victoria went off altogether smoothly and efficiently. On arrival at the pre-researched bike station near Victoria, I popped my bike into one of the stands where it promptly locked into place. Mission accomplished.

On the way back, the cycle seemed a little lighter... or maybe I'd just got used to it. As I made my way back to Oval, I noticed the reactions of other road users. Pedestrians spontaneously grinned at me. They were loving the novelty. I grinned back. I felt like I was part of some sort of London in joke. I passed someone else on a hired bike. We nodded to each other as though both members of an exclusive club. People with normal bikes pretty much overtook me at speed, suggesting a scathing stance towards the amateur. And cars. Well, car drivers seem to have a pre-programmed wrath towards cycle hire users. In the year or two that I've cycled around London on my own bike, cars drivers have mainly gone about their own business. Today, despite cycling at almost the same speed as usual, and certainly with the same road positioning and general cycling sense as usual, three different drivers honked their horns and gesticulated angrily for no real reason, demonstrating an irrational inbuilt intolerance of the cycle hire user. Clearly they felt us road tourists should stick to the pavement.

After docking my bicycle, it was time for another long walk home. I went through Kennington Park and enjoyed watching a group Tai Chi lesson, a few games of football, children playing in a rather nice playpark, and a very pleasant little cafe. I should visit Kennington Park more often! I pottered through the playing field that's immediately south of the park, got lost in a housing estate, popped out near the Blue Elephant Theatre, and felt quite pleased with my expedition.

Note that the other bicycle station nearest to Camberwell is at the garage at the top of the Walworth Road. Also where Rodney Road meets Balfour Road. But frankly, let's hope Boris extends the scheme down to Camberwell Green soon!

by Layla

Last weekend my parents travelled down from Scotland to the sunny shores of Camberwell, and like the SE5-obsessed daughter that I am, I didn't let them stray over the borders. They left thinking that Camberwell is indeed an excellent place. They stayed at the Camberwell Church Street Hotel which, if you are feeling extravagant, turns out to be a fantastic place to send visiting friends and relatives - a proper boutique hotel, with friendly staff and a rather unique ambience of Cuba meets Camberwell. My parents were rather excited, having never stayed in such a designer-y hotel. The walls of their room were bright blue. The bathroom was covered by mosaic tiles. The triple glazing achieved an impressive silence despite the room facing the main road. There was free Green and Black chocolate, replenished daily. The bed was reportedly beautifully comfortable and the breakfast delicious. My father continues to talk about the exemplary croissants. The only flaw was that the breakfast room, which is supposed to be an honesty bar, and station from which to obtain tea and coffee for hotel guests (unavailable in the rooms), was transformed into an overspill room for Angels and Gypsies restaurant, leaving hotel guests unable to access that room's drinks, tea, coffee or DVDs (they have a good collection, available for free, including a few gay titles such as Brokeback Mountain and Milk) without embarrassingly walking around the restaurant as diners ate. Nevertheless, my parents were cheerful.

We took them for Saturday lunch to the South London Gallery cafe and again felt very smug at the excellence of the ambience and food at this fantastic new venue. My mother then became obsessed with the idea of buying us a vegetable rack, and her delight on finding the exact model she wanted in a classy Butterfly Walk shop was very sweet. Don't say I don't give my visitors a good time... That evening we walked up the hill to Buddha Jazz, via Odie and Amanda where we were furnished with kir royales and cupcakes baked by Steve and greeted so warmly that my parents could only conclude that Camberwell was the friendliest place on earth. A very pleasant dinner at Buddha Jazz, and it was off home. 

Sunday was a Burgess Park day, and my parents were very taken with Chumleigh Gardens. It is a travesty that the beautiful oasis of the cafe's elegant but understated iron garden furniture placed on the grass under the shade of beautiful trees, clustered serenely around the pond, is about to be scrapped for a fluorescent green canteen overlooking the children's play area and the road. It would be nice if the council remembered that not everyone wants to watch children and new does not always equal improved... but I will maintain a degree of optimism that in fact it might be nice. We spent most of the afternoon in Chumleigh Gardens and lamented its loss. 

After we saw them off on the 42 bus bound for the airport, we tried for a JJ Caterers treat to end the weekend but they were closed so we had a Safa takeaway which was rather delicious. Hmmm may need to go on a diet one day...