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After traipsing halfway across London, dodging travel works and closed Overground lines and carriages with malfunctioning air conditioning and all the other things that make moving around this city on a weekend in the summer such an endless joy, it's equally annoying to find that your destination is good or bad. If it's good, you will bemoan the fact that somewhere worth visiting is so bloody difficult to get to, and seethe with jealousy of those lucky locals who have such a good place on their doorstep. And if it's bad, you wish you'd spent your Saturday morning and sanity going somewhere else. Uncle Hon's isn't awful. It's not great, but it's not awful. The brisket (sorry, ox cheeks) was over-tender to the point of mush (it would definitely not pass the competition BBQ "pull-test" and a bit too sweet. Pulled lamb had a decent flavour but a rather uniform texture - the joys of the "pulled" element of a BBQ tray lie almost entirely in finding little crispy crunchy bits of fat and charred flesh; this was just a bit boring. And some cubes of pork belly were decent enough in that Cantonese roast style but was yet more sweet, syrupy, mushy meat next to two other piles of sweet, syrupy, mushy meat and the whole thing was just a bit sickly. Iberico ribs were a bit better in terms of texture - they did at least have a bit of a bite and didn't just slop off the bone as is depressingly often the case - but I feel like Iberico has become a bit of a meaningless foodie buzzword like Wagyu, ie. nowhere near the guarantee of quality it once was (if indeed it ever was). These were definitely the best things we ate though, and were pretty easily polished off. Oh I should say pickles and slaw were fine, if fairly unmemorable, and a single piece of crackling weirdly lodged vertically into a mound of rice like the sword in the stone had a pleasant enough greaseless texture but was pretty under seasoned. Look, I can see what they're trying to do at Uncle Hon's - fusion American/Chinese BBQ food, bringing a bit of a new twist to what is now fairly ubiquitous London drinking-den fare, and with a bit more thought and skill it could have been, well, if not completely worth that awful journey but at least some compensation for your efforts. But after having paid £50pp for what is an only fairly mediocre tray of food plus 3 small extra pork ribs, we were left feeling fairly unhappy, not very satisfied and more than a little ripped off. 5/10
They're like the buses, these rotisserie places. You wait years for a decent, affordable spit-roast chicken in the capital, and then two come along at once. one in Holborn closed (where I would go at least once every couple of weeks back in the day), then Kentish Town, then Tooting, and then after hanging on for a year or two the final spot in St John's Wood shuttered. Hélène Darroze's Sunday roast (sorry - Dimanche poulet) at the Connaught, and while some of the starter elements were very nice (particularly a genius-level chicken consommé and Armagnac shot - hook it into my veins) the main event was overcooked, dry and disappointing. And, of course, stupidly expensive. Knave of Clubs (in fact I believe they opened within a couple of months of each other) is Norbert's in East Dulwich, a much more modest operation than that grand old Victorian pub in Shoreditch (I'm sure Norbert's won't mind me saying) but still aiming to apply intelligence and skill to the business of roast poultry. The menu is short - very short, just the aforementioned chicken with sides and a couple of starters - but then that's the whole point of a specialist place like this. This is not a restaurant that does chicken, it is a chicken restaurant, and if you're vegetarian, well, you can find somewhere else to eat. We started with taramasalata which in itself was lovely but the salt and vinegar crisps it came with was, I think, a flavour too far for the same dish, the astringency fighting with the seafood. Much better would have been plain, I think. But still, an excellent tarama. didn't like it, and was offered something else. In a hapless attempt to salvage both mine and the restaurant's mistake I offered to pay for the first wine anyway, so we ended up in the end spending a small fortune on wine, not all of which we ended up drinking. The chicken, though, was just about worth the stress. A healthily thick, dark skin packed with spice and seasoning, a brined but not in the least bit 'hammy' flesh, some excellent crisp fries that held their structure and flavour until the last bite, and a supremely crunchy, fresh salad. Perhaps it wasn't quite the same level as the Turner & George chicken from the Knave, for an almost identical price (salad and fries are extra here, but included at the Knave) but was still worth the journey. We also found space for some nice cheese from Mons cheesemongers up the road, a gruyere style from Ireland which was a perfect temperature. Which didn't help our £72pp final bill but as I say, most of that was wine, whether we wanted it or not. I'm in two minds about Norbert's. On the one hand it is perfectly acceptable chicken for not a huge amount of money and it's an unpretentious little addition to this corner of East Dulwich. On the other hand the whole business with the wine left us wishing the whole experience had gone differently, and yes it doesn't compare well with a certain other rival rotisserie spot in Shoreditch doing things a little bit better for pretty much the same price. I think I know where's more likely to get my repeat custom. We paid in full but didn't get a photo of the receipt. If you want to keep subscribing for free via email please sign up to my Substack where there may also even be occasional treats for paid subscribers coming soon.
I wouldn't normally feel comfortable sticking a score on a place after sampling just 2 dishes from a menu, but I will make an exception for the Knave of Clubs for two reasons. Firstly, they have put the rotisserie "centre stage" at one end of the large dining room and that is what, I imagine, the large majority of their visitors will be ordering. Secondly, I bloody loved the place, so I don't think they'll mind me writing about it even without trying most of what their kitchens can offer. We started, though, with oysters - an extremely reasonable £20 for 6 large, lean specimens supplied with all the correct condiments. In a town when the average price per bivalve is hovering around the £5 mark (and in some cases is well above that), it's nice to know that there's somewhere still offering value like this. The same sense of value is evident in the rest of the menu. They really could charge a lot more for a whole chicken than £38, especially given the quality of these birds (from arguably London's best butcher Turner and George), and even if they didn't come with a giant helping of sides. For your money you get loads of chicken fat roasties, a nice sharply-dressed green salad, some slices of baguette and a little pot of light, homemade aioli. All of this generosity would have come to naught if the chicken itself wasn't up to scratch, but fortunately thanks to the provenance I mentioned, plus judicious use of brining (not too salty but just enough to ensure every bit of the flesh is tender and juicy), plus a really lovely chermoula spice rub, the end result was a truly impressive bit of rotisserie - the best pub roast chicken I've had the pleasure to tear into in recent memory; certainly the best value. We absolutely demolished the chicken then spent many happy minutes mopping up the chermoula cooking juices with the slices of baguette, and for a while, all was well with the world. The bill, with a £32 bottle of wine came to £51pp - you really can spend a lot more than this and get a lot less, and not just in central London. In fact the whole experience, including the lovely and attentive staff, made me forgive the only real complaint I have about the place - bloody communal tables. But the spots are spread out around them quite generously, and actually just gives me an excuse to return and try the bistro-style One Club Row upstairs in the same building, where chef Patrick Powell (ex- Allegra) is really stretching his wings. I bet it's great. Watch this space. P.S. Anyone who subscribes by email I am aware of the fact that follow.it have started to be very annoying and not posting the content in the body of the email, just a link to it hosted by them. I didn't ask for this, and am not making any money from it. If you want to continue receiving the full posts via email, can I suggest you subscribe to my substack here, where you can opt to receive the full posts via email, for free.
I'm going to start this post about the Parakeet, with - unfortunately (for them, and possibly for you) - a bit of a rant. Why is it that no matter how much money has been lavished on a place, no matter how starry the chefs, how extensive the wine list, how exclusive the whisky collection (the Parakeet has some very interesting bourbons), the beer offering is almost always absolute garbage? I've lost count of the amount of gastropubs I've turned up to for a pre-dinner pint that seem to think it's OK to serve an exciting, seasonal modern British menu with a straight face alongside Camden Hells, Moretti, Guinness and bugger-all else. There's nothing poisonous about any of these bog-standard beers, and not everywhere can be the Wenlock Arms, but honestly guys, it's not difficult - serve the mass-market crap if you must but why not have one or two taps available for something from Deya, or Verdant, or Signature, or Pressure Drop, or god knows how many other great independent craft breweries on your doorstep? Would it really kill you? So yes my evening at the Parakeet got off to a bit of a humdrum start, with a pint of something entirely forgettable, but I'll give them this - at least, unlike so many 'gastropubs', it's still a proper pub, with a handsome and tastefully restored high-Victorian bar area supported by banquette seating at least equal in size to the dining section. And they're both beautiful spaces, with stained glass details and dark wood panelling, the dining area theatrically unveiled with the raising of curtains at the beginning of service. They can do a good Negroni too, and know how to put together a supremely attractive Spring menu, with a lot of my favourite words - crab, asparagus, wild garlic, oysters - offered at prices that, these days at least, seem almost modest. The point is, the Parakeet are doing lots of things right and so when they do slip up it only serves to remind you how much better it would be if they'd paid slightly closer attention to the details. This, for example - described on the menu as "Poached oysters & sea buckthorn granita". Now I'm going to be generous and forgive the plurality as a typo, rather than anything more sinister, because it's £5 for a single beastie is pretty much the norm these days. But am I right in thinking "poached" means served warm? This was ice-cold and tasted raw - again, perfectly fine if that's what you want but not as described. And doesn't "granita" mean a kind of shaved-ice frozen affair? This was a very nice dressing, with what can be a sharply astringent sea buckthorn element tempered by apple juice, but I wouldn't call it a granita. Duck hoi sin tartlets were very pretty little things which tasted as good as they looked - bags of salty, syrupy hoi sin flavour and with nice soft chunks of pink duck. Crab lasagne bites contained a good amount of crab meat and a very seductive cheese-toastie style arrangement of textures. They were also something I'd genuinely never seen before on a menu, which for this jaded blogger after nearly two decades in the game is impressive by itself. Hopefully it's not too much of a criticism to say that this plate of artichoke, broad beans (properly peeled, thank you) and sunflower seeds possibly would have been better described and sold as a side, rather than a starter. It had nice shaved artichokes, plenty of big juicy broad beans and the seeds added an attractive crunch, but in the end there wasn't quite enough going on to justify itself as a standalone dish. Nevertheless, we did quite happily polish it off. The only real dud of the evening, food-wise at least, was the turbot. Under-seasoned, with an unattractive flabby skin and a strangely blobby-textured, soily flesh, it really wasn't a very pleasant thing to eat and was a poor advertisement for what can otherwise be one of the best fish to eat on the planet. The pickled white asparagus and grape dressing it came with, however, was lovely, which although hardly making up for the turbot did mean there was at least something to enjoy on the plate. Bizarrely though, considering the poor state of the turbot, this battered, deep-fried red mullet was an absolute joy. Inside a nice crunchy greaseless batter was a fillet of superb mullet, every inch of it properly seasoned and bursting with flavour. I'll forgive them missing to remove a few bones from one side - they were easily dealt with, and the masala and curry leaf sauce it came with was rich with tomato and spices. I know through bitter experience that red mullet does not always taste this good, so this was a surprise as well as a delight. Desserts were enjoyable, but didn't seem to have had the same amount of care lavished on them as the savoury courses. Chocolate mousse was tasty enough and a bed of crunchy puffed oats (I think they were) gave it a bit of texture, but it's not really the best chocolate mousse I've eaten this month (step forward, yet again, the Devonshire) never mind longer ago. Citrus Bakewell tart was slightly more interesting and I liked the fragile ribbons of caramelised fruit they'd draped on top, but the cake element was slightly dry and crumbly. Overall, though, the Parakeet are doing more things right than wrong, and if that seems like damning with faint praise it still puts them ahead of a lot of spots in town. I hesitate to mention service on invites like these but everyone seemed very enthusiastic, and kept exactly the right balance between friendliness and professionalism - they also passed the folded napkin test with flying colours. And although the food menu wasn't exactly at the budget end of the scale, they do offer a house white for £29 which is approaching a genuine steal these days. So yes, if I was going to spend this amount of money and take a journey across town for this kind of food there's a few places (not least the Devonshire, but also the Baring, the Drapers Arms and the Pelican) that would be ahead of the list. But if I was a local, I think I'd be pretty happy to have the option to visit. And perhaps that's all that matters. I was invited to the Parakeet and didn't see a bill, but totting up what we ate and drank from the menus comes to about £70pp which isn't bad really.
More in travel
30 unblogged things I did in June Sun 1: My Dad hasn't had any answerphone messages for three weeks since BT switched him to Digital Voice, the internet-based phone connection. We tried to work out why this might be, and were surprised/shocked to discover that as part of the package you get transferred to a free BT Voicemail service. The only way to tell you have a message is to notice you have "an interrupted dial tone", i.e. you have to keep checking your phone just in case, then you have to dial 1571. This is inherently ineffective, especially when you're used to just walking into the room and seeing a red light flash. He told BT to turn this ridiculous freebie off which they promptly did, only to discover that 7 people had left a message during the hiatus and he will never ever know what they said. Madness. Mon 2: Supermarket update: I noticed that 9-packs of Kit-Kats were 'reduced to clear' so bought up several, having guessed what was inevitably coming next. True to form they returned to the shelves as 8-packs of Kit Kats but at the same price - i.e. a miserably cynical 12½% price rise. Shrinkflation strikes again. Tue 3: I stepped onto a train at one of London's least used stations, and I think that was my old boss sitting closest to the doorway but I wasn't sure and he didn't say anything. He didn't have his [Peach] with him otherwise I'd have been certain. We'd only have ended up discussing [Melon] anyway, so no great loss. Wed 4: At the library, Richard Osman's latest novel has finally reached the "there's always a copy on the shelf" stage rather than requiring a reservation. Only took 9 months. It's not as good as the Thursday Murder Club series either, sorry. Thu 5: BestMate'sOtherHalf now has four snakes living in a tank in the bedroom, and today I was proudly shown the skins they've just shed and how two of them aren't eating. Fri 6: While I was out today I thought "I wonder if this is one of the shortest platforms in London" but I wasn't sure how to check and I suspect that's a topic for another day. Sat 7: One of my neighbours decided to have a loud houseparty into the early hours, and I don't think it's a coincidence there was a brief power cut just before midnight. Sun 8: A bird very nearly walked onto my train in Epping but then walked off, and on some people's social media feeds this is what counts as top content. Mon 9: I've been told that an 11-year-old mains-powered smoke alarm is officially 'beyond its expiry date', despite not having an expiry date printed on it, and I beg to differ. Tue 10: Around lunchtime this blog received its 14 millionth visitor. And just 10½ months since the 13 millionth visitor, which'll be the fastest million yet, which is lovely. Thanks a million Wed 11: Amongst the slew of absolute tosh written about the so-called Strawberry Moon, yes it may be the lowest full moon in 19 years but that doesn't make it worth going out to look at. Every full moon reaches this height in the sky, every single one, before rising a bit higher. Even the BBC joined the insane urging to view this 'rare phenomenon', which it absolutely wasn't, and please could news desks employ folk with a basic understanding of science? Thu 12: The album from my nephew's wedding dropped today, not a luxury keepsake book but a scrollable online collection with over 1000 downloadable images. Everyone looks happy, beaming and natural, apart from the 30 shots I appear in which look entirely unlifelike... oh god, this is what getting inexorably older feels like. Fri 13: I finally finished last Christmas's chocolate-based presents which I've been eating one chunk at a time since the start of the year. I'm not sure they'd have survived the upcoming heatwaves anyway. Sat 14: I was on the Liberty line between Romford and Upminster when two inspectors boarded the train and checked everyone's tickets. So yes TfL are taking fare dodging seriously, but there must be far more productive places to check. Sun 15: One of my childhood homes is up for sale, much-extended, at a shocking price. My jaw dropped looking at the photos in the brochure (the new kitchen island is bigger than our kitchen) and wept looking at the garden (everything ripped out in favour of a tiered "low-maintenance entertainment space"). Mon 16: If you have a 60+ Oyster card I can confirm there are only two stations within the zone of validity where the card doesn't open the ticket gates. They are a) Shenfield and b) Cheshunt. Both are run by Greater Anglia, whose staff will happily wave you through the gate if you ask, but no other train company is as cynical. Tue 17: As part of London Rivers Week they opened up the Clerks' Well in Clerkenwell to public view. It was only for three hours one Tuesday afternoon but scores of people visited the tiny vestibule to look down into history, and I hope the nice folk at Islington Museum have taken the hint and will do this more often. Wed 18: The bus stop at Seething Wells in Surbiton has a roundel flag and five tiles underneath, all of them non-TfL services, and I wondered if this is unique inside London. Thu 19: The new episode of Poetry Please, in which Roger McGough interviews Antony Szmierek, is the most delightful Radio 4/Radio 6Music cultural collision. Antony's going far. Fri 20: Eighteen months ago I started my quest to spot all the numberplate letter pairs from AA to YY. I'm delighted to say I've now spotted 518 out of 519, having finally seen UE on a black Toyota passing Bromley-by-Bow station. That just leaves UV and then I'm done, although based on experimental evidence the odds aren't looking good for a swift conclusion. Sat 21: Upminster's former pitch and putt was sold off by the council in 2021 and is now Kings Green, "a collection of exquisite detached homes set within a private community" where you can "step into a realm of opulence", and it seems that even when we do build on golf courses we waste the opportunity. Sun 22: They showed Saltburn on BBC1 this evening, the much-hyped jawdropping film previously only available on Amazon Prime. Why subscribe at £8.99 a month when all you have to do is wait 18 months and watch for nothing? Mon 23: I rewatched 28 Days Later tonight, now its sequel's sequel is in cinemas, and as well as being a great film it's also a excellent visual record of millennial central London. Tue 24: I think I saw Emma Thompson this afternoon, crossing City Island near the English National Ballet. You don't get many Dames in Canning Town. Wed 25: The shanty town under the Bow Flyover has been removed. I saw three ominous trucks parked alongside yesterday and now the entire rickety shelter has vanished, even the barbecue annexe in the middle of the roundabout. I'm amazed it lasted four months. Thu 26: According to the latest ONS data the population of Tower Hamlets is projected to increase by 20.4% between 2022 and 2032, the fastest increase in England. If true it'll then be the 4th most populous borough in London, up from 10th in 2021, up from 17th in 2011, up from 23rd in 2001, up from 28th in 1991. Bottom 5 to top 5 in four decades flat. Fri 27: I said last week that the intrusive building site at Stroudley Walk might lead to the premature demise of a local business and today coffee shop Posted threw in the towel. Officially they're 'hitting the pause button' until everything's 'looking fresh and fabulous again', but that could be ages and fingers crossed they return. Sat 28: The Atlantic World Gallery in the National Maritime Museum is being upgraded to show more stories of oppression, resistance, trauma and joy, rather than just a spin round the slave trade, and now ends with a 'reflective space' with books and beanbags. Sun 29: I love Glastonbury weekend, the huge slew of artists on TV for free without having to camp in a field and pee in a plastic loo. I watched the full sets by Supergrass, The 1975, Scissor Sisters, Pulp, The Prodigy, Ezra Collective, Rod Stewart, Self Esteem, Gary Numan, Lewis Capaldi, Caribou, Franz Ferdinand, Olivia Rodrigo, Loyle Carner, English Teacher, Charlie xcx, Four Tet and Kae Tempest, and quite a lot of Wet Leg, Japanese Breakfast and Black Country New Road. Roll on 2027. Mon 30: Yesterday's post, 'A Nice Walk', was actually about the Western Loop of the Jubilee Walkway. Paragraph 1 was Leicester Square, P2 was Trafalgar Square, P3 was St James's Park, P4 was Parliament Square, P5-7 were the South Bank from Lambeth Bridge to the Tate Modern, P8 was St Paul's/Fleet Street, P9 was Lincoln's Inn Fields and P10 was Covent Garden. It is a very nice walk.
A Nice Walk: A London Loop (6 miles) Sometimes you just want to go for a nice walk, nothing too taxing, leafy shade, river valleys, wildlife-adjacent, pretty views, a bit of heritage, a bit of a stroll, won't take all day. So here's a scenic loop some distance from the centre of London, not excessively arduous but a nice walk all the same. . Start your watch, we should be back here within three hours. Ahead is one of the finest green spaces on the walk, several acres with a full right to roam, although our designated path sticks to one side. I spy ducks, geese and swans and also get to dodge occasional fallen branches. Someone's put a lot of effort into their cottage garden with hollyhocks and sunflowers all ablaze, also pristine vegetable beds boasting runner beans, rhubarb and marrows. Mind the nettles beside the path. Now that's unfortunate - an old red phonebox with a jammed door and a broken glass pane through which has been posted an ugly pile of bottles and other litter. A waymarker atop a pole confirms I'm on the right track but also exudes an air of local irrelevance, also the map at its foot has faded since Neville installed it. Full steam ahead past plants with spiky fronds, also a squat conifer where bees hunt nectar deep in its bright pink flowers. I wouldn't have known that tree was a Mediterranean oak if it didn't have a plaque underneath. A family cycles by with what looks like a picnic scattered across their collective baskets. Occasionally there are raised benches to sit on, generally empty, but also an abandoned pushchair and what looks like a septic tank so best walk on. Someone's written "Big Dave Foxcroft - LEGEND" on the wall, also "Wilma is one of a kind" - she gets two mentions. For wildlife watchers a lone seagull sits on a post, a crow swoops off with a beakful of something, a butterfly emerges fom the undergrowth and the lamps have a patina of spider's web. Across the stream is a large house with what sounds like an alarm blaring non-stop. . This section of the walk is blessed with fine gardens flowering with some kind of large daisy, also something purple and heatherish, also deep holly but no barbecues please. The water's edge is littered with half-bricks and half-pipes, meanwhile the water ripples with occasional twigs and bottles. A phone mast is visible in a gap between the rooftops on the horizon. My favourite passing t-shirt is 'Made In The North, Forged In Gravy', just ahead of 'Catzilla Ate My Hamster'. The path broadens on the far side as it approaches a quiet road with a seemingly-unnecessary pedestrian crossing. The subsequent climb looks like it's approaching another churchyard but bears left prematurely past a cluster of Christmas trees to skirt the back door of the building instead. Spring's flowers may have faded but the hanging baskets here are a persistent riot of colour as the path drops gently into a separate river valley. Don't expect to see any water this time, not in the current climate. The pub by the crossroads offers a choice of proper roast or Vegan Wellington. The largest open space is of course pencilled in for commercial development, even out here. It is indeed a properly scenic spot but the majority of Londoners live nowhere nearby. Ian Visits blog I am fortuitously able to tell her. The path weaves more contortedly now, eventually entering a large field with holly hedges, shady oaks and group of friends enjoying a summer picnic. On the far side I pass a man dressed as a monk, also two sturdy men in Iron Maiden t-shirts, before crossing the busiest road on the walk so far. The whiff of sewage is intermittently apparent, also an outburst of shrubbery, also an ambulance sadly on call. Three agricultural carts have been repurposed and topped with potted plants which I consider to be very pleasant. Threading onwards passers-by now outnumber trees and hedgesparrows are less common. I have to hand it to the walk's creators, I don't think I've been down this alleyway before despite coming mighty close, although I don't like how it smells of wee. Initially I miss the penultimate alley because the waymarkers have failed again, or maybe I just wasn't looking carefully enough. On the final approach a lemon has made a bolt for freedom, also I swear those sunflowers are fake. And on returning to my starting point I see someone's now arranged a rows of deckchairs across the grass where I expected the information board would be so how would anyone know a walk starts here? They launched this circuit with such high hopes but I bet I'm the only person to have followed it today, which is a damned shame given the inherent glories of this corner of the capital.
The news from Havering (black holes, Schrodinger's bus and thatched rabbits) roundabout in north Havering has closed to traffic for 12 weeks. It is an almighty constriction. Gallows Corner flyover can be strengthened, even made safe for HGVs, safeguarding it for the next 60 years. But this requires sensationally savage road closures because the A12 arterial is already such a barrier that there's essentially no other way to cross from one side to the other. Through traffic is being diverted via the M25, which is miles and miles, and local traffic faces lengthy tortuous detours via insufficient roads increasingly choked with cars. From the south it makes a trip to the mega-Tesco basically unattainable and from the north it makes a quick nip into Romford most unwise. The only traffic permitted through the junction is public transport (and taxis and emergency vehicles) so the smart way across is by bus, but routes have reduced frequencies and anything trying to get through has to wait at temporary traffic lights (a 3-way junction with an approximate four-minute cycle time). I watched a suspicious number of vehicles trying to get through anyway, then struggling to reverse when they discovered their exit was blocked, blocking everyone else. Pedestrians can still cross but it's poorly signed, and basically stay the hell away unless you live here, in which case my deepest summer commiserations. A highly unexpected casualty of the Gallows Corner closure is the 375, one of London's least frequent buses which normally pootles out of Romford to serve the village of Havering-atte-Bower. For the duration of the closure it will instead terminate at Chase Cross, i.e. the urban 3 miles will be chopped off and only the rural lunge into Essex will remain. This is particularly rubbish for residents of H-a-B because it means their only bus won't even reach some shops, let alone a station, the intention being that they switch to/from the 175 to complete their journey. I went to ride this embarrassment of a stunted bus yesterday. A huge poster outside Romford Station warned potential passengers that the 375 wouldn't be stopping anywhere near here until September... so it was a bit of a surprise when a 375 rolled in at the bus stop opposite and disgorged several passengers. It was even more of a surprise when the supposedly non-existent bus reappeared and took a dozen of us out of central Romford. We passed at least six bus stops with a yellow poster claiming the bus we were on wasn't running, then drove straight past the stop where the journey had been due to start. I rode the bus all the way into Essex, way out beyond Stapleford Abbotts almost to the M25, and at Passingford Bridge the driver swung round and took a growing cargo of passengers all the way back to central Romford again. So is the 375 buggered or not? • According to TfL's bespoke Gallows Corner webpage, the 375 definitely isn't serving Romford. • According to TfL's Bus Changes webpage, the 375 is not mentioned so must be running normally. • According to a poster outside Romford station, the 375 won't be back until September. • According to the Countdown display it's due in 3 minutes. • According to the 375 webpage and various apps, all's normal. • According to every ounce of pre-publicity, Chase Cross only. restored, not a moment too soon, by a public body intent on carving up the borough. That building is Upminster Tithe Barn, built in the mid 15th century on the orders of the Abbot of Waltham Abbey. At 44m it's not quite as long as Harmondsworth's but it is believed to be London's oldest thatched building. It was also in an increasingly poor state, so much so that it was added to Historic England's Heritage At Risk list in 2023, and with its damaged timbers and leaky roof could simply have decayed away. Financial rescue came from a most unlikely place, namely National Highways who contributed £650,000 towards full restoration. A team of master thatchers and other craftspeople started in January and were done by June, and the resulting finish does indeed look splendid. 11,000 bundles of water reed were used to rethatch the roof and it looks properly crisp, like a recently barbered cut. Up top are a particularly striking pair of thatched hares named Willow and Hunter by local schoolchildren, added as a final decorative flourish. Three lightning conductors have been added in the hope that the new fire alarms will never be needed. The intention is to retain the barn for public use, indeed the superbly quirky Museum of Nostalgia is due to be back inside and offering Open Days again next year. As yet nobody's found the cash to install toilets, and if you go along today all you'll see is a smart locked building beside a dusty car park, but this fine survivor is indeed back on the map. Lower Thames Crossing. This is the new road tunnel between Essex and Kent which will scythe off through fields around North Ockendon and help declog the QE2 Bridge, and which was given the financial go-ahead just last week. Grants from the Lower Thames Crossing Designated Funds have been offered to over 50 community projects including Purfleet Heritage Centre, a local Scout Group, a bike skills area in Gravesend and Thurrock LGBTQ+ Network. It may seem perverse to be donating cash allocated to road building to rethatch a barn nowhere near the proposed dual carriageway, indeed a cynic might suggest National Highways are only doing this to take some of the eco-heat out of their hugely controversial tunnel project. But wouldn't it be nice to be able to drive under Gravesend Reach, and aren't those boxing hares superb?
