Chunks of the Epsom and Waterloo were out of action, so bus to Sutton followed by train to Victoria. Entertained on the train by a very cute young Russian boy, who looked to me to be expensively dressed. The father had a tinge of Siberia about the face, but I guess Russia is pretty mixed up in that department. Entertained at Victoria station by a large supply of armed policemen.
I managed to get into a muddle coming out of our usual exit at Oxford Circus, an exit we must have made a hundred times over the last few years. Maybe I needed my fix of smarties from All Bar One. No drink available there until 1200 on a Sunday, so we had to content ourselves with tea and, in the event, I left my portion of smarties. Slight refurbishment in the form of a small number of new tables and changes to the lights. We learned on the way out that the smarties would have been renewed had we ordered second teas.
Puzzled by the concrete things illustrated, stockpiled in the corner of Cavendish Square. Perhaps I need to go back during the week, when there might be somebody to ask.
For some reason, all this left us in a very receptive mood and the concert went down very well indeed, beyond it taking a few bars to switch into Schubert mode - the first bars sounding a bit loud and emotional compared with the Beethoven.
From there onto Fischers of reference 1, where we had an excellent lunch, in my case almost an exact replica of the one that I had had the first time around; only varied by taking the Nürnberger rather than the Strasbourg sausage, which I thought an improvement. Brown rather than pink. BH got a half lemon with her Schnitzel, tastefully wrapped in a little muslin bag, presumably to avoid the solecism of getting a pip on one's plate. BH also got to play with a baby, perhaps 8 months old. Belgian French owners, presently living in London.
Proceeded to Marylebone Church at the top of the street to take in a little organ. Also, following up the White-Spunner claim that many churches will contain a memorial to someone who fell at Waterloo, I took a look round here. Failed, quite possibly because the church only attained its present form a few years after the event in question, with only a few memorials having been carried forward from the previous church on the site. But I was a bit humbled by a memorial for Battle of Britain pilot, killed at the age of 19. Which now seems terribly young to me, a terrible waste of young life.
Apart from us and the organist, the only other customer was a wino and we wondered how many regular people turned out for their regular services. As with stately homes, bit of a problem finding a decent use for such places, now that their intended use has gone out of fashion.
Waterloo still out of action, so Baker Street to Elephant and Castle, Elephant and Castle to Balham, Balham to Sutton, Sutton to Epsom (on the bus). With our being offered a couple of seats by a young man on the first leg.
In the course of all this, we managed to pass the Brasserie Vacherin at Sutton twice, reminding us of the interesting meal we had there last year, noticed at reference 2. And not, so far anyway, repeated, despite what I said at the time.
PS: we thought that O'Hara looked like a Belfast man, but it turns out that he was born and raised in Manchester. Now, inter alia, head of keyboard at the Guildhall School of Music.
Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2018/03/hammerklavier.html.
Reference 2: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/08/tempest-one.html.
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