Wed, 19 Oct 2011 00:19:25 -0800WeeblyFri, 05 Aug 2011 15:07:26 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2011/08/park-wrath-and-other-tales.html
by Layla
It's hard to recover from not writing a blog for more than half a year. So let's just gloss over it... ahem (and if anyone wants to write a guest blog, please do!). So what has been happening in sunny Camberwell of late, you may well ask. Well, in anticipation of a glorious improvement in future Camberwell dwelling - in the form of a shiny new version of Burgess park opening next summer - we have been subjected to a serious deterioration in current Camberwell dwelling. Pretty much all of the park around Camberwell is now closed, and while it's a shame not to be able to meander in the sun, watch huge groups of people playing football, rollerskate all the way to Peckham, and picnic under a shady tree, my greatest horror is the closure of the path between Southampton Way and Portland Street. Oh how I failed to fully appreciate that early morning joy of zooming through a speedy, pretty passage on my bicycle, and that coming-home feeling of bumping up from Albany Road and knowing that home is just a path away. Alas, it is no longer to be - each morning I am now doomed to replace my pretty parkland cycle with the hellish deathtrap of traffic and doom that is Camberwell Road/Walworth Road. Indeed, if I wish to get to Portland Street, I now get to make two near-fatal right turns in a row, and three sets of traffic lights, as a row of buses screech past me at speed, just as irate as I am that there's a dithering cyclist in their path. The diversion to Portland Street takes such a long time that it depresses me and tempts me to stay on the Walworth Road all the way to Dragon Castle, where a sharp left takes me the other way around Elephant and Castle. Which, I must admit, is a tad pleasant. And handy for buying things on the Walworth Road - my mission is a new vacuum cleaner, if I can think of a way to strap it to my basket. And for those who say 'what about Well's Way', I can only remind you of the one-way rule on Parkhouse Street dooming me to evenings-only, and frankly, it feels like it takes even longer than the Walworth Road of near-death experiences (perhaps it's the adrenaline...). And I heard a rumour the other day that the new 'improved' park may not have a path at all when it opens next summer. It's enough to make a Camberwellian weep.

But on the plus side... the new swimming pool is quite a delight, restored rather beautifully (unclear whether the gay nude swimming has recommenced - does anyone know?), with a nice clean changing area and - ahem - the area's very first Starbucks coffee outlet! (granted the servers do not seem to be Starbucks-trained and do not greet you with either a smile or any sort of efficiency, but nevertheless - gentrification, ladies and gentlemen!). We have a monthly farmers' market on the Green. Tadim has been renovated and is looking popular again. Le Petit Parisien has been replaced with the popular and rather nice Crooked Well, which has a commendable selection of gins. And when we tried to invest in a rather expensive piece of art at a Peter Blake opening night at GX Gallery, it had already been snapped up (so I drowned my sorrows in free wine and patted my wallet in relief). 

And so I leave you, hopefully not for another eight months. Hey, you promised you wouldn't mention that! ]]>Wed, 22 Dec 2010 06:30:46 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/12/a-camberwell-supper-club.htmlby Layla

Last month we wrote a blog about the supper club phenomenon in London and our experiences at a selection of these curious events, where someone (typically a very good chef) cooks for a large dinner party-sized collection of foodies who sign up in advance, for instance via Facebook or Twitter, and pay a 'donation' for the privilege of attending the chef's house for a sumptuous dinner. We have described our past experiences as the novelty lesbians in a sea of heterosexual couples all gazing at us as though we were zoo specimens. This was - of course - not the case in a supper club in the gay mecca that is Camberwell...

Roz and I were delighted to be e-mailed via gaycamberwell.com by the organiser of a popular supper club, Pip's Dinners, that has recently located itself in Camberwell. And so, last night we embarked upon a grand expedition, walking but two minutes from our front door, to a rather sweet little Camberwell house and two rather sweet newly Camberwellian gay hosts. 

The long table held an eclectic mix of people, with a few heterosexual couples at one end and an explosion of gay men at the other. The conversation was great: literary chat, competitive restaurant experience comparisons, and tales from foreign climes (and even a rather doctor-y conversation for me). The food was excellent, and accompanied by some delicious wines. I particularly liked the fennel soup, and the reimagining of the knickerbocker glory. Mmmm. We had a lovely evening: a dinner party with excellent chef and an array of interesting guests provided in the price. And the high proportion of gay people (mostly locals) was an added bonus. 

Supper clubs may just have redeemed themselves for us. Yet again a cautionary tale about straying too far from Camberwell, when the best version of what you're looking for can probably be found in SE5... ]]>Sun, 19 Dec 2010 00:28:59 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/12/a-gay-wedding-and-a-trip-to-the-theatre-in-camberwell.htmlby Layla


When we had our civil partnership last year, our first inclination was to have it in Camberwell. Sadly the register office didn't hold quite enough guests (about 36 if I recall) so we had to ditch the idea in favour of Marylebone Town Hall and the Blueprint Cafe at the Design Museum. But we always wondered what it would have been like to have our reception in the Crypt. So when we were invited to a friend's civil partnership reception in the Crypt, we trudged through the snow with interest and envy. 


After their ceremony, they went to the Hermit's Cave, and then to Johannsen's for a champagne cream tea, which sounded very lovely, before progressing to the Crypt, which did indeed prove a fun place for a wedding reception. When we arrived we were sorry to have just missed the London Gay Men's Choir, but the gayness levels were still very high indeed, with speeches, then songs reminiscent of the gay wedding in Sex and the City 2, and song sheets provided so that we could all sing Christmas carols. And luckily the Choir couldn't resist a couple of camp festive renditions around the microphone on the stage.  As we were leaving, it seemed as though some sort of karaoke had commenced. We fled before anyone uncovered our tunelessness!


Last week I abandoned Roz to a mad residential conference in the house in Salzburg where the Sound of Music was filmed. She popped into the Blue Elephant Theatre in my absence one night to be embraced by Jasmine, the Blue Elephant Theatre's artistic director, in a lovely local way. The two shows, 'Cliched' and 'Mind the Gap', were an innovative dance/theatre combo double-bill, with very good performances. The theatre was packed but in the margins Roz had discussions with an anxious Jasmine who has concerns about ongoing Council funding; let's hope the funding problems don't come to fruition because the Blue Elephant Theatre really is fab, and a great Camberwell venue. 


The fun doesn't seem to end for us in Camberwell this week. You'll recall a few weeks ago we wrote a blog about supper clubs... well, a rather gay one has turned up in Camberwell and we're off there on Tuesday! We will be reporting back of course!]]>Tue, 14 Dec 2010 05:30:00 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/12/a-camberwell-saturday.htmlby Layla

It's been too long since Roz and I spent a Saturday in Camberwell. And so it was with cheer that, as I cycled up to the post office to pick up my oversized online Christmas shopping (ah, the modern world), I noted the planned Christmas farmers' market on Camberwell Green was already hotting up. Christmas gifts duly collected and deposited at home, Roz popped some baked potatoes in the oven for lunch, and we set out into the crisp winter streets of Camberwell.

First stop was the market. There has been some talk of bringing a monthly farmers' market to Camberwell Green; detractors have suggested that with a regular market in both Oval and Peckham, there was no call for it. The crowds teeming around the stalls on Saturday disagreed. The place was bustling and cheery, with a very inclusive vibe of all sort of Camberwellians shopping happily (and sampling the free cheese samples) together. The stallholders seemed to be selling. We bought cheese and some delicious olive oil before proceeding up Denmark Hill with the taste of farm fresh food samples on our tongues and the hope of being able to meander to the Green on future Saturdays for some lovely fresh bread...

Next was the really very lovely shop Cowling and Wilcox, round the corner from the Denmark Hill post office. This really is a gem of an art supplies shop, with all the paper and pens and paints and assorted arty stuff that one could dream of. I bought some paper to make Christmas cards while Roz admired the diaries (and I told her not to  buy a work diary with pink paper...).

Next stop was Empress Mews, a collection of art studios having an open day. We'd run into the lovely gay couple who run Mini Moderns last week, at the East London Design Fair, and had been almost seduced  by their cool Festival of Britain wallpaper. We hadn't bought it as we had to contemplate dimensions, and they warned us it would be tricky to pick it up as their studio was far away in... Camberwell! Returning as promised, we were met with great enthusiasm and duly bought the very cool wallpaper. We also browsed the other art studios, including one with great 'net and ball' design vases and plates, run by another gay couple who had just had some anti-gay graffiti scrawled on their shop window for the first time ever: disgusting. Glad to hear the police were helpful, and everyone was appropriately horrified. Unusual for Camberwell, and frustrating. Indeed, pathetic. Finally we went to the Clockwork Studios, also having an open day, and admired some impressive headpieces and some cool vintage travel posters. Very vehemently holding hands. 

Before dashing home just before the potatoes burned to a crisp!]]>Mon, 22 Nov 2010 09:53:08 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/11/supper-club-quirky-or-so-last-season.htmlby Layla

You regular readers of the Gay Camberwell blog will have discerned that Roz and I are rather enthusiastic diners. And so it has been with great interest that we recently ventured out onto the London supper club scene. What is a supper club, you may well ask. Essentially, it's an underground restaurant (reservations essential), in someone's house, or quirky venue, where the person is typically an amazing chef, cooking for you and a set of fellow diners as though you were all at his or her exclusive dinner party. So far so good. And so it was with great anticipation that we turned up at our first supper club (if you don't count Rosie's in Brixton Village last year), a particularly well feted one in nearby Brixton.

The Saltoun Supper Club is on Saltoun Street, run by Arno Maasdrop. We knocked on the door with trepidation and were welcomed into his quirky flat, where we sat down at our own table and were fed a succession of delicious courses, accompanied by our own wine. It was... odd. There was clearly an expectation that we socialised with our fellow diners, though practically this wasn't easy due to separate tables. Between courses we wandered around the flat. And came to suspect, as other diners eyed us curiously, that despite their quirky, underground roots, supper clubs might be a little bit straight.

This was underlined vehemently at the Savoy Truffle Supper Club , this one north of Kings Cross station. It was part of London Restaurant Week, and it wasn't quite the right dinner party vibe in that there were about 40 of us. However a pre-dinner cocktail or three was a nice touch (as was the sponsorship by Bombay Sapphire) and by the time we sat down at long tables, we were ready to socialise with our neighbours. It's interesting how there is such a difference between being straight and being straight. This supper club was filled with clientele of the straight persuasion. To my left was a group of hen party-esque girls, 'double daring' us to down gin straight from the bottle. To my right a married couple from Essex on a rare night out away from the children. All of them were friendly, but made us feel like weird curiosities; one got the impression none of them had ever met a lesbian before and didn't quite know what to do. A strange ambience indeed. Roz and I continued to provide entertainment to the clientele when Roz choked on her food and I successfully performed the Heimlich manoeuvre. Pleasing.

Our third forray into the world of supper clubs was last weekend; our destination an underground restaurant by Ms MarmiteLover, one of London's official 1000 most influential people.MsMarmiteLover's famous supperclub usually takes place in Kilburn, but for one night only was in a yurt in Highgate, complete with Mongolian/Tibetan food theme. Which, while intriguing, did not, I am sure, show off MsMarmiteLover's famed culinary finesse off to its full glory... I am still having flashbacks to the taste of thr Tibetan tea. Not good ones... Twelve of us sat on cushions eating and drinking odd Tibetan food and chatting. There had been a suggestion of ethnic dress; Roz and I were very marginally complying with this theme; most entirely ignored it, and a couple of men came dressed in pink curly wigs and 70s pimp garb. Five straight couples and us. Again, a straight ambience but we were less the curiosity than usual (the pink wigs may have set the tone). Perhaps it comes from being in a yurt, which is a fab and quirky setting, opening up people's expectations. And we had a really nice evening chatting to a very pleasant Israeli art dealer couple. Whom we would never have otherwise met.

And there we have it. Supper clubs. An intriguing way to attend a dinner party with great food and potentially very interesting and diverse guests. So why do so many of the guests we've encountered so far feel so... generic? Is London homogenising? Is London's supper club scene the quirky underground excitement that it is feted to be? Or in fact have we missed the boat: was the cool time to go to one of these a few years ago? Are we now at a stage where the less trendy/underground folk have cottoned on and book through Google, while the quirky folk who started it have moved on to another underground project? And where do we lie on the trendy/underground/quirky/generic scale?

Maybe it's still cool, or maybe it's not (I think it probably is). But when we were there, we enjoyed great cooking and felt we were having a bit of a special, very London night out. Even if we were the token gays...]]>Wed, 08 Sep 2010 09:01:46 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/09/waggy-tails-and-yummy-mummies.htmlby Layla

A sunny (ish) Saturday meant only one thing last week: the Peckham Rye fete! As a great fete aficionado, I leapt upon my bicycle, with Roz in tow, and off we went to the park. We arrived in the middle of what seemed to be the main event: a dog show. This brought back cheery memories for me of watching Best in Show, and I was delighted to find that dog shows are just as passionate and kitsch in real life as they are in a (rather funny) mockumentary. Alas we missed the 'waggiest tail' category, but got there in time for 'best in show'. The giant dog that was almost the size of a horse was robbed!

The ambience was made even more pleasant by a large slice of homemade banana cake and a glass of Pimms. Other highlights were a Punch and Judy show, a good book stall, some terribly posh stalls selling posh soap and suchlike, and lots of children's activities. Which brings me to my observation that things seem to be very geared around children in these parts recently. Not that I have anything against the creatures; it's just that I don't like being made to feel like a second class citizen if I don't have one in tow... As is the case at the new Chumleigh Gardens cafe (which, for those who are interested, is officially opening this Saturday with child-centric entertainment 12-4).

Is the rise of the yummy mummy a benchmark of gentrification? They were certainly out in force at the Peckham Rye fete (proximity to East Dulwich and Nunhead), and one could barely dash away from the piercing noise for fear of tripping over little Oscar's designer outfit-clad screaming body. Or maybe it's not yummy mummies that denote gentrification, but fetes themselves. Here in SE5, I am lamenting the loss of Bonkersfest, a very Camberwell type of fete...

On the other hand, our great enthusiasm about the inclusive and delightful nature of the Camberwell Green ping pong tables (as well as a personal zeal to beat Roz) led us to petition Southwark Council to keep the table as a permanent feature. And it looks as though we have been successful. The Green now sports not one but two ping pong tables. Buy some bats on Amazon and we'll see you down there soon! Maybe we should organise a Gay Camberwell ping pong tournament to celebrate... ]]>Mon, 30 Aug 2010 14:14:09 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/08/a-bank-holiday-in-camberwell.htmlby 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.]]>Sun, 22 Aug 2010 10:36:48 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/08/of-art-and-ping-pong.htmlby 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... ]]>Sat, 14 Aug 2010 05:23:16 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/08/a-bicycle-adventure.htmlBy 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!]]>Wed, 11 Aug 2010 15:55:30 -0800http://www.gaycamberwell.com/1/post/2010/08/entertaining-parents.html
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...
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