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...

by Layla

We at Gay Camberwell have always had a soft spot for Elephant and Castle. Indeed, for me it was my first portal to South London, in a Camberwell-bound odyssey from a hotel on the Strand. Later it was home to the now closed Southopia, aka Chocolate Lounge, the brilliant lesbian private members' club where Roz ran lesbian film club and I met her for the first time. Also where I went lesbian speed-dating and embarrassingly subsequently had my photo plastered over a page in Diva, having speed dated the Diva editor. And I attended a gay bowling night in the E&C shopping centre's rather good bowling alley. And worked at the Department of Health's E&C building, which has a great view over the area. I'm also adept at a complicated route by bicycle that avoids the infamous roundabouts.

We have never been under any illusions about the glory of the Elephant and Castle shopping centre, but we have recently been conscious of interesting things happening within that beautiful building... First, a rather acclaimed little theatre has opened in an empty retail space. Theatre Local has been home to a Royal Court season which finishes in late August. And last week the space was used by community theatre company Mayhem who put on a rather impressive show called Elephant 21. After a glowing review from  Time Out we ventured down on Friday night. What a lovely experience. Great performances, and a show about a family history through the years in Elephant and Castle. They derived the show from oral histories from people in the area, and it was fascinating to have an insight into wartime Elephant, and changes through the years, culminating in a couple of yuppie types buying in the new Strata Tower. Funny and apt. We had a brilliant night. Topped off by prosecco and a game or ten of Connect Four in The Bear, which was very busy with a great wine bar type atmosphere.

As we left the theatre that night we walked past Mamuska and regretted we'd already had dinner - it's an authentic and stylishly homely Polish restaurant in another retail unit that has also had a good recent review from Time Out. Unusual to pull off stylish without pretentiousness but they do it well. It was busy and there was live music. A cheery Polish waitress handed us a tempting-looking menu. We decided to return the following night. Saturday night in the Elephant and Castle shopping Centre seemed an odd choice, but we had a great time. The food was absolutely delicious (and cheap). The atmosphere was quirky and comfortable. The Polish beer came in 500mL bottles for £3. I had dumplings and Roz had potato pancakes, at £5 each. Both were delicious. Just as we finished, people poured in - the after-party for the Elephant 21 cast and crew! We had a lovely evening with more Polish beer, actor spotting and vicariously enjoying their celebrations. Bravo, Elephant and Castle Shopping Centre. I was only sorry we were too distracted to go bowling!

by Layla

It was with great frustration that we accessed the Camberwell Online Blog from a remote Transylvanian village and read about one of the most anticipated events of Camberwell, the opening of the South London Gallery extension... and most excitingly, of the cafe, Number Sixty Seven. And so we zoomed down as soon as we could to suss it out.

My goodness, that cafe may be the best thing that's happened in Camberwell (since the creation of Gay Camberwell, of course). Frankly, it is excellent. And turns a visit to the SLG into a real event. Accessible either directly from the street, or by a path leading through a garden from the main gallery, it is stylish, modern, sleek, and inviting. It has four different seating areas. First there's an outside seating area in the patio facing Peckham Road, a sunny spot and more pleasant than it sounds, filled with arty gay boys lounging artily over cappucinos. Going inside, there's a sophisticated dark wood section with cushioned benches and chairs - it feels arty and looks good. Then you hit the counter for ordering food and drink. Blackboards announce a range of food and drink (we didn't spot any alcohol, alas) and they have an interesting, tempting range of both. Meringues and cake loomed temptingly on the counter, and a large bowl of salad looked so delicious that I immediately ordered it. 

Going further into the building hits the third cafe space, a bright, partially glass room with a very high ceiling and one long, elegant 14-seater wooden table around which groups of people were enjoying their lunches. 

Proceeding through that room's folding glass doors, we reached the back patio where we settled, with views of the garden in one direction, and adjacent blocks of flats in the other. It gave a real sense of place. A great mix of utilitarianist starkness and pleasing design details. 

And so to the food. I had a barley, blue cheese and artichoke salad, with delicious fresh baby tomatoes. It was excellent, if rather blue cheesey... And a fair portion for £7. Roz opted for a mezze platter of hoummous, tzaziki and such, which she declared similarly pleasing, and fair for £5.50. For dessert, I had the best Eton Mess I have ever had. I have been dreaming about it ever since. Roz had a slice of quirky but tasty courgette cake (think carrot cake, but greener). The coffee was also very good. We were very impressed. Loved the ambience too - what a fantastic addition to Camberwell. It's open Tue-Sun 10-6:30, and late on a Wednesday til 9pm. (The art was interesting too... mostly text-based, which was interesting, and the new spaces which are essentially rooms of a typical Peckham Road flat make the SLG far more versatile).

As if sampling one Camberwell establishment was not enough for one day, we decided to dine at The Tiger. We've been hearing mixed reviews about their food, but were pleasantly surprised. I had a tomato tart with rocket salad. The tart was tasty and moist, though there was slightly too much pastry involved - not the best option for dieters. Roz had the red pepper stuffed with cous cous which was delicious. £6.95 for each meal, which is very fair. And a lovely atmosphere as usual in The Tiger, which seems to have become gayer in our absence - we watched a sweet scene where a gay boy was sitting alone and a man came up and gave him his number. Then the sitting boy's boyfriend came in, the first boy showed him the number, and they giggled together. On leaving, we encountered a second gay male couple sitting outside, who could only be described as canoodling on Camberwell Green. All very sweet - hooray for the Tiger. If only they served their wine in wine glasses though...

After that day of eating, it was off to Brixton Ritzy to see the brilliant French rom com Heartbreaker. Highly recommended, even if not at all gay! 

by Layla

Our silence over the last few weeks is attributable to Roz and me having left the sunny climes of Camberwell for a rather more rainy and Dracula-studded experience on holiday in Transylvania. We returned home this weekend, just in time to catch the last of the sun and sample the delights of Frank's Campari Bar, the excellent pop-up bar on the roof of the Peckham multistory car park. Probably one of the coolest hidden venues in London, in my opinion, and surely the one with the best view of the London skyline (this year with the addition of the rather funky Elephant and Castle new skyscraper). Roz had decided to celebrate her birthday there on Sunday afternoon and we had an amusing time sitting in the sun waiting for the north Londoners to brave their way to Peckham (and find it a mere 10 minute journey from central London) and then to brave their way into a dodgy-looking multistory carpark with little optimism of finding such a great venue at the top. I was a huge fan of Frank's last year and it's pretty much the same this year. Maybe my favourite thing about Peckham! Though I also like Bar Story... the Italian restaurant... the Chinese Garden in Peckham Rye Park... Review bookshop... the cinema where we went to see Whatever Works later that evening (a total of four people in the cinema, including us - it was the night of the World Cup final)...

Of course Peckham is all very well, but this evening we were out in Camberwell. We're loving the ping pong table that's been installed on Camberwell Green (the same group who installed the piano last year) though we have sadly been unable to play on it - despite the website's claims that lost bats and balls are replaced daily, we've never been able to find any when we pass. Our ping pong bat order has now been placed with Amazon... 

We passed the ping pong table en route to the private view of a new art exhibition at the Sun and Doves. Nice to see it so busy, with arty types enjoying the pictures over complementary wine. Afterwards we popped into the Tiger to enjoy their lovely ambience over a glass of wine (Roz) and a big dessert (me). And reveled in the serenity of pubs now that the World Cup is over (hurrah!)

Of course in our absence the South London Gallery has expanded and there is allegedly a great cafe there - we know our responsibilities and will be investigating this weekend...

by Roz

Gay Camberwell owes so much to the Castle.  It hosted our fabulous opening night launch party in November 2008, monthly book group meetings even longer than that and, every Sunday since January 2009, Pink Screen Sundays – free screenings of gay films (bought by them, and with popcorn and, if we were particularly lucky, Maltesers, for viewers). 

The manager, Winston, was an enthusiast for Gay Camberwell from the very beginning.  He embraced its philosophy and ambition, and didn’t falter even when numbers for the films weren’t so good (I’m sure that those films were the ones programmed by Layla!).  He even tolerated my unnecessarily tetchy emails when things went slightly wrong.  I am therefore more pained than I can possibly say to tell you that the Castle has closed: it is the end of an era. 

So, before in a panicky fashion I contemplate where we should have book group, quite apart from desperately trying to identify a venue for regular free gay films plus popcorn and chocolate (though suggestions for both would be welcome), l would like to thank the exceptionally nice man who used to manage the Castle, and who now owns one of the most extensive collection of gay films in England: Winston Levine. 

It’s fortunate that, if the bad news of the closure of the Castle ever had to come, it came the week that Spark storytelling took over our very own Blue Elephant Theatre.  I’m just back from their first night of residence brimming with enthusiasm, albeit still mourning the loss of the Castle: a strange mix. 
 
Layla and I first discovered storytelling on our honeymoon in NYC where we went to a Moth storytelling event: true stories told live without notes.  Despite being exceptionally stingy, the night was so marvellous that I felt compelled to use my phone whilst in NYC to find if there were such nights in London and, in a basement in the East Village, I first heard about Spark.  Run by the very jolly Joanna (a pleasingly alliterative description), my first event on returning to London convinced me it was worth booking months ahead (the nights are almost immediately sold out) and travelling to the depths of north London (Little Venice) – despite the fact that these are two things I dislike doing.  My joy was immense when I realised that – quite independently of my enthusiasm – Spark was to take up residence in the Blue Elephant Theatre (6 minutes from our flat) for an entire week.  I planned to go to three nights of storytelling and scheduled my diary accordingly.  However, just back from the first night, I now realise that this is insufficient to sate my appetite for storytelling and am now trying to rearrange my diary accordingly. Storytelling so often suggests ancient myths (which can be fun) but Spark storytelling is very different.  Tonight we had tales of cocaine and penguins and love and betrayal and electricians. And more.  The thing that makes these nights remarkable is the fact that the stories are true: it’s like your best friend decided to get up on stage and bare his or her soul…  Absolutely unmissable.    

And so, whilst mourning the loss of the wonderful Castle, I feel compelled to celebrate the imagination and enthusiasm that led to Spark coming south of the river. I very much hope that it becomes a regular event at the Blue Elephant. 

Soon, we’ll be blogging about possible venues for book club meetings and films.  But, tonight at least, let’s thank goodness that Camberwell once had the Castle.  And that we have the Blue Elephant theatre.    

by Roz

As regular readers will know, Layla and I are seeking to buy a new home.  I have been intrigued, over the months, to see that many north London friends have (with varying degrees of tact) sought to steer us towards Oval, Kennington, Brixton and Stockwell.  All fine places (though obviously no Camberwell!) but of course their recommendation, from the perspective of foreigners from over the river, is their tubes.  The curious thing about that being that, when visiting the north, I’ve found myself walking 20 minutes or more to an area “on the tube” – whilst, of course, whichever part of Camberwell you are in a 20 minute walk will take you to a tube (should you be rash enough to want one when you could cycle or bus it!). 

Of course we aren’t going to be so rash as to be tempted by the lure of Oval, Kennington, Brixton or Stockwell.  But I must confess Oval does have one great attraction for me – its theatre.  Without much fanfare from the gay press or the gay world, so far as I’ve noticed, the Oval House Theatre’s programming has become distinctly gay.  There last Saturday for the last night of the very wonderful (and sold out) one-man show Mother / Son, I studied the summer season’s programme and realised that everything that they are showing at the moment has a gay theme.  Where, in my view, Oval House Theatre really is a boon for south London is the imagination and thoughtfulness of the work produced there.  In contrast to the Drill Hall (at which, I should say, I have had some very pleasant evenings), the Oval House seems to seek out cutting-edge and innovative theatre – which is why so much of their work either comes from, or goes, to places like Queer Up North and the Here arts center in NYC.  

A virtue of the Oval House Theatre is that they innovate without descending into pretentiousness.  Which is more than can be said, alas, for the much vaunted Electric Hotel which is currently running at a Victorian gas works in King’s Cross.  It’s a superb venue and a superb concept for a piece.  But it also turned out to be very dull and immensely smug.  This will teach us not to be so rash as to venture over the river on a Saturday night… 


Finally, it's worth mentioning a new pizza restaurant on the road to Oval (attached to the Union Tavern)opened in May - Pizza Lenuccia.  And, of course, this week the Blue Elephant theatre is taken over by storytelling and it's definitely worth going along one night (on Friday Layla will be telling the tale of her first lesbian date!).  

by Layla

In our quest for quirky and delightful entertainment, Roz and I have recently been breaching the boundaries of SE5 and sampling the offerings of other locales like tourists in a strange land. And we have come to the conclusion that Camberwell is only missing two things. 

One is trapeze club nights. Roz and I recently went to a French Victorian cabaret club night in East London - as you do - which involved scantily-clad ladies and muscular gentlemen swinging and twirling from the rafters in a most entertaining fashion. It has made me think that no evening entertainment is really complete without a trapeze artist. And indeed, at Camberwell Gay Book Group, one of the members recently announced that she was a trapeze artist, limited only in providing Camberwell-based trapeze entertainment by lack of a sufficiently high ceiling with a good strong hook. Forget cinemas - clearly this is the real gap in the market!

The other is storytelling. For a while we've been venturing to the far north of Little Venice to attend the extremely popular, sell-out storytelling events run by Spark. Our interest was born on our New York honeymoon where storytelling is the current cool phenomenon and queues for storytelling nights snake round the block, crammed with cool young things and cool older things alike. Trying to recreate the experience in London, we found that there is a storytelling scene here, but how horrible to have to venture north and west! A few weeks ago, Spark held a brilliant storytelling-and-dinner event in the lovely Soho venue Bar Chocolate. People told 7-minute true stories about their lives between courses of an excellent meal. Funny, sad, interesting, illuminating... and one by a woman from Blackheath who fled her Polish village to escape the concentration camps in WW2 at the age of 7 that left me sobbing. Storytelling is still a bit of an underground entertainment in London. Roz and I were lamenting the lack of storytelling in Camberwell when, randomly, Spark announced they are doing a 5-day storytelling festival at our very own Blue Elephant Theatre! From Monday 7th til Friday 11th June, go along at 8pm to hear true stories on a different theme every night. Take proof you live in Southwark and get in for £5. See one show, get the rest half price. And if you're lucky, you might get to hear the story of my first ever lesbian first date...

So that just leaves the challenge of finding a venue for a trapeze club night...