Gay Camberwell

I have no idea why the Oval House Theatre has such a consistently gay-themed programme, but it’s a bonus for us Gay Camberwellians – a mere 5 minute cycle last week brought us to the double bill of Lobster and Vantastic, two one act plays examining the concept of living in a confined space. Both were very interesting, but ultimately rather depressing. Pleasingly in both, the gay characters were portrayed in a very matter of fact way. So often in plays, if there is a gay character I find that there has to be a big issue around homophobia, or self identity angst, or coming out, or suchlike. In both these plays, the characters simply happened to be gay. That said, the plays both had quite enough issues taking centre stage: incestuous relationships with granny, for instance… kidnapping… elderly masochism… gratuitously bizarre, but while they didn’t make for comfortable viewing, they were well written, well acted, and in particular made good use of the Oval House’s two theatre spaces. With a welcome break in the rather pleasant bar in between shows. It’s a shame the Oval House isn’t nearer the centre of Camberwell: it’s definitely a bar I’d drink in regularly.

Speaking of which, Grand Union has become just that. I can’t seem to get out of the place, probably due to the excellent mohitos. I popped in for a post-work hot chocolate on Friday night with a couple of my work friends, and it was just the right mixture of cool and cosy (and festive – their Christmas tree has just gone up) for comfortable chat. But really I hankered after a mohito… Later that night, Roz and I cycled over to the V&A Museum, where they were having a gay night as part of their Friday Lates series. We arrived to find a colourful drag queen in the foyer proclaiming very loudly and repeatedly “I am a tranny!” Clearly this was to be a queer performance art extravaganza. Indeed, Camberwell’s very own Michael Twaits did a monologue, and there were all manner of intriguing queer arty performances lurking in various galleries around the museum. I joined in David Hoyle’s art class, where I spent a cheery half hour learning about the surrounding sculptures and under instruction, producing increasingly ridiculous drawings in the company of about 20 other ‘artists’ and a very colourful David. It made me very reminiscent of teenage late nights at my equally closeted male friend’s house in darkest suburban Scotland, secretively watching The Divine David on TV…

And of course after that, we cycled back to Camberwell and straight into Grand Union where a very pleasant woman who may have been the manager produced mohito after mohito with pleasure and efficiency, delivering them to our table and even giving us a free one in a very appealing manner. We stayed into the wee hours before tipsily wheeling our bikes home. Hooray for this excellent addition to SE5.

Yesterday we cycled north, to sample the Christmas church fetes of Hackney, and a brilliant Christmas craft market in the crypt of St Pancras Church (randomly, this seemed to be organised by a Peckham group). If only St Giles crypt had more events like that! Later on, we headed northwest on a very rare excursion to Notting Hill to sample the famed delights of Book Slam in the Tabernacle. I had previously failed to take advantage of the efficiency of the 148 bus that zooms straight from Camberwell to Notting Hill, but it’s just as fast (or just as slow) as the bus/tube combo, and took about 45 minutes. Book Slam was absolutely brilliant. Yet again, come on, St Giles crypt – this sort of event would work so well there, and it was extremely popular… Lots of performance poetry, readings by Lionel Shriver, a choir and random goings ons (and food!). We had a brilliant night, though conceded that Notting Hill is a creepy place full of very rich people who made me feel I must have plucked my evening’s outfit from a rubbish heap… though they did have lots of nice cinemas and coffeeshops…

By Roz.


Following our flat viewing on Friday night, we managed to resist the urge to spend the weekend contemplating the virtues or otherwise of living in Myatts Fields.  But only just.  The profusion of good films that are out at the moment was certainly a help.  (I would, by the way, say that An Education is absolutely worth seeing; I was less convinced by A Serious Man - but I seem to be alone in this view. As you can tell, we spent much of the weekend at the Ritzy…)

But we really owe our very pleasant weekend to our neighbours’ estate agent.  Our neighbours have just put their flat (in theory identical to ours; in reality, much nicer) on the market.  For some reason (I wouldn’t like to guess!), the flowery description of the flat referred to some local attractions outside of Camberwell.  So for the first Saturday night in a long time, we remembered our proximity to Vauxhall and headed over there (having been sustained by a dinner in FM Mangals) to Duckie.  It has clearly been far too long since either of us went clubbing, since we arrived just as the RVT was opening. In fact it wasn’t actually open yet, but they let us in anyway… Having survived (albeit without either enthusiasm or panache!) the experience of sitting in the corner and hoping for company, the RVT was soon a hive of activity.  Two excellent shows - and the additional pleasure of seeing Gay Camberwell’s favourite drag queen, Michael Twaits (straight from his show at the Soho Theatre) – entertained the crowds. 

The estate agent also referred to Bellenden Road as “a short stroll away”. This reminded us that, whatever one’s view on a mile equating to “a short stroll”, it’s certainly only a fairly short cycle.  And thus on Sunday we found ourselves heading over to Petitou for brunch.  I used to go there a lot, but for some reason (perhaps the coming of House, and my discovery of Chumleigh Gardens café) I’ve been less (indeed not at all) of late.  But what an error.  We deemed our scrambled eggs to have the edge over those we’d sampled in New York on our honeymoon (and the whole meal as absolutely superior to the brunch I had on Saturday in Shoreditch’s latest innovation, The Book Club) and programmed Pink Screen Sundays for December and January.  Feeling virtuous, we felt a visit to Peckham’s chocolate shop, Melange, was more than justified.  Having unfortunately insulted the shop owner (by enquiring whether she had anything fairly plain which I could give to my mother, who likes all her food bland) and “tested” far too many samples before purchasing coriander and grapefruit milk chocolate, we went to lurk in Review (the lovely bookshop).  From here we needed no guidance from an estate agent to ensure we were back at the Castle in time to see Caramel, this week’s Pink Screen Sunday film. 

So I have one thing to say to estate agents: bring on the flowery writing! 


PS Good news - we've just heard that there's going to be a Moona party at the Castle on 5 December at 8pm. Regular readers of the blog will remember the fabulousness of the last one! More details on the calendar.  

By Roz.

I’ve been waiting all week for the weekend.  And not just because it gives me a respite from not filling in that job application that has been sitting on my desk…  It’s started well, with a relatively early departure from work to go flat hunting.   Any views on the merits or otherwise of living in Myatts Fields?  We’ve been very unenthuisatic (because it does seem a fair trek into Camberwell proper – is there anywhere to buy a pint of milk, even?) but last night we went to see a flat in a monastery and are now tempted…

Whilst part of me wanted to spend the evening googling “Myatts Fields”, we resisted that temptation for the lure of the east, and went over to Persepolis (“a taste of Persia in Peckham”).  It’s a shop I’ve cycled past many a time, and been curious about.  Discovering that they had a storytelling night (part of Peckham Literary Festival, but in fact something which seems to happen quite regularly anyway) I enlisted Layla and a few of our friends and booked us all places.  I became a fan of storytelling nights a few years ago (living in a different city, and just round the corner from a venue which had regular storytelling slots) and this enthusiasm was reawakened in NYC, when Layla and I went to a night called The Moth.  That said, its something that I anticipate could be quite cringe-worthy if not done well.  So, whilst waiting for it to start, we wandered round the shop nervously, gazing at the baklava hopefully.  It wasn’t like any of the storytelling nights I’ve been to previously.  The stories I’ve heard before have been modern – and true – whereas these were tales of the east, fairy tales, almost.  But it was rather fantastic actually.  The storyteller – Sally Pomme Clayton (who lives in Peckham and intriguingly seems to have recently done a gig at No 11 Downing Street) – created a magical atmosphere.  Quite remarkable, especially given the profusion of buses and sirens which passed on the road behind her.   Mind you, she seemed somewhat disappointed by the audience (mainly comprised of middle class thirty-somethings) who were (me included) reluctant to bring out any tales of our own…

From here, we headed back to Camberwell and over to the Grand Union.  And thus – with all the fusion décor there – didn’t quite leave the Orient…  We’d reserved our judgment on our first, jet-lagged, visit to the Grand Union.  But our verdict is in: the Grand Union is a fine addition to the Camberwell scene.  We spent the evening drinking cocktails –mohitos and brambles – and both were excellent.  Not as strong as those in Bar Story, mind you, but that’s probably a good thing (and means that I am able to type this at a fairly early hour on Saturday, whilst Layla sleeps the sleep of the just…or whatever the phrase is).  Friends of friends turned up – members of the wonderful Camberwell Composers Collective – and we swopped tales.  And recommendations.  I waxed lyrical about Whirled Cinema and the Red Gate Gallery and its private viewings, and they of the Chinese restaurant next to Caravaggios.  It was an excellent evening.  With just enough of the Orient to make me forget all about filling in a job application form.  Though I must confess to a little google of "Myatts Fields" when we got home...

By Roz.


Layla and I are back from our honeymoon and have just popped into Camberwell's newest hot thing, the Grand Union - which opened whilst we were away.  It's the old Grove pub (on Camberwell Grove) but couldn't be more different to the Grove.  A new cool interior with electric lighting, neon signs, and good seating.  There's a long list of cocktails (although not all were available on the night we were there - which was slightly annoying) and their 2 for 1 offer between 6pm and 8pm every day is particularly welcome.  The food was quite good too - it's also 2 for 1 on all main meals at the time being.  Service could have been quicker (or perhaps that was just my jet-lagged desire for a drink!) but was certainly very pleasant.  I didn't see any board games - which would have been nice - and I wonder what they are planning to do with the back room (called the Snug) - and whether they might think about using it for events, such as comedy, which would be good.  


I also hear that the people behind the East Dulwich Tavern are taking over the Silver Buckle, which is excellent news.  And Angels and Gypsies (the tapas part of the Camberwell Church Street Hotel) might, finally, be opening since they are advertisng for staff.  The George Canning is also being refurbished.  We didn't much like it's previous incarnation, so it'll be interesting to see what it's like now.  When I get the energy to walk up a hill (which may not be for some days).  


Oh and don't forget that Pink Screen Sundays are still running at 5pm on a Sunday at the Castle.  This week we're showing the excellent film Caramel and the week after Milk. 


That's it for now - now that the wedding is finally over (hurrah) updates on here will be a little more frequent! And I must remember to tell you about the glorious Whirled Cinema, in case it's news to you!  But that's for another day.