The search for Soames

The third chronicle noticed at reference 1 still not having turned up, I thought I would keep the flame of Galsworthy alive by taking a look at the locale of Soames' first marriage, Montpelier Square, in Knightsbridge.

A bright, cool day, just the thing for a swing round town. Started off by a bright young man working the London platforms of Epsom Station for Southern Railways, who knew a surprising amount about the goings on in the server cupboard, where some maintenance was going on. He was also rather cynical about any improvements which might result from said goings on. In any event, the platform indicators (served by said servers) were not working at the time that we were speaking.

The forest of cranes in and around the turbine hall at Battersea Power Station was as quiet as ever, although I did notice that there were now a couple of lift shafts rising up in the middle of it. Maybe there is yet another difficulty about project finance or planning consents. I still say it would have been much more sensible just to knock the thing down and start over.

Pulled a Bullingdon from the pole position at the top of the ramp at Waterloo and made it to the Drury Lane stand in 8 minutes and 31 seconds. Called in at the cheese shop where I found a second young Frenchman, his second day on the counter and still very much a beginner at the business of wrapping cheese. He had not quite got the hang of the Neal's Yard Dairy way of doing things. Nor had he yet met the first young Frenchman of reference 3, a meeting which was due later that very day.

On to eye the second hand books in Charing Cross Road, on this occasion without any serious interest at all. On this day anyway, the idea of buying more second hand books when the study back at Epsom already had a pile of such, seemed rather foolish.

Onto the café in Duncannon Street. I was at first alarmed by their new blind, but it was alright. Nothing much had changed inside and the pair of ladies sitting at the next table were very properly old-speak. They might almost have fallen out of one of the 1950's costume dramas which we watch on ITV3. Rather higher grade bacon in the bacon sandwich than is usual and I wound up having two of them, but on reflection I think streaky bacon is best. One needs a bit of fat to oil the wheels of mastication. Very reasonable prices for just off Trafalgar Square.

Pulled a second Bullingdon at Craven Street to take 19 minutes and 6 seconds to get to Montpelier Street, making some use of the cycle tracks in the vicinity of Green Park and Hyde Park Corner. At this last being rather startled by a smart looking Muslim girl on her Bullingdon coming up behind me with her husband in tow, head wrapped up in an expensive looking white scarf and eyes hidden by expensive looking sunglasses.

Montpelier Square all present and correct, illustrated above and thoroughly documented at reference 5. Smaller than I expected, but very select. At this point I realised that Montpelier Street adjacent should have contained a public house that I used to know fairly well, a place with a clipper on its sign outside and with the occasional recognisable luvvie inside. A public house which seemed to have gone missing.

I also failed to get into the Christ's Church of Montpelier Place, advertised on my TFL cycle map. I had thought it might be one of those fancy gothic places put up during the evangelical revival of the second half of the nineteenth century, but actually it was a very modest affair, seemingly dissenting rather than evangelical. Possibly home to some overseas Germans, presumably Lutherans or some such.

The whole area had a very Middle Eastern flavour and was awash with Chelsea Tractors upwards, so I decided to cut my losses and head for Clapham Junction. Pulled the third Bullingdon of the day to do Montpelier Street to Falcon Road in 21 minutes and 26 seconds, parking up in the stand more or less opposite Battersea Food & Wine, where I am pleased to be able to report I was able to get the brand of dried figs from Bodrum that I like, the ones that come in little wooden boxes, shrink wrapped in cling film or some such. See reference 6.

Whereas I had failed to find Beaufort Street (a street where my elder brother once had a ground floor bedsit for a while. With large bay window) and gone down Oakley Street instead, but that was not a problem as it led me straight onto the right bridge over the river. Minor traffic violation at the Latchmere, as I usually get lost in the one-way system there, electing instead to turn right into Battersea Park Road, from where I do know my way.

Bought an Economist at the shop in the tunnel at Clapham Junction, being fairly sure that the assistant thought about short-changing me for my twenty pound note, then thought better of it, rightly judging that on this occasion I knew that I had given him twenty. Whereas often I do not know, proffering notes in a slightly distracted way, a sitting target for the unscrupulous. Occasion redeemed by scoring three overlapping twos (at the aeroplane game) during my short wait at the town end of Platform 11. Plus one proper, old-style train spotter.

PS: Galsworthy got a mention in Enright of reference 2 as the sort of worthy (if stodgy) author thought fit to grace the shelves of the English Literature shelves of the libraries of the various overseas universities in which he taught.

Reference 1: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/09/second-saga.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/09/ex-pats.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/09/cheese-hunt.html.

Reference 4: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/12/braces.html. The last visit to Duncannon Street. Another occasion on which I passed on the second hand book. Perhaps a visit to the Crown is needed to get me into the right mood.

Reference 5: https://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-london/vol45/pp109-116. Search on page for 'Galsworthy' to find the important bit.

Reference 6: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/11/church-muddle.html. The last attempt at figs from Bodrum.

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