I left in decent time to take the District Line from Earl's Court. Well, that was the plan.. but when I arrived on the platform, the next three trains were headed into town - not the direction I wanted to go in! The fourth train was marked as "see front of train" (destination unspecified) - I waited precious minutes to see that it, too, was headed into town. Unreal - four in a row! The next train to Edgware Road wasn't due for 10 minutes - and that was going to leave me very tight.
In desperation, I checked the Underground map - in the spider's web that is the Tube, I could take the Piccadilly Line to Green Park, and change there for the Jubilee Line to Bond Street, which was my destination. So I hurried downstairs to cram onto the Piccadilly Line - which became even more uncomfortable, predictably, at Knightsbridge, with (I kid you not) hordes of Japanese tourists piling on, brandishing little Harrods bags. Horrible part of town, above or below ground, most of the day - what with the crowds. Pity then the poor tourists at the next stop, Hyde Park Corner - the one for Winter Wonderland - who hadn't a hope of squeezing into the carriages.
Pity also me, desperate for the train to go faster, when actually the crowds slowed it down, and it seemed there was a definite policy of waiting for 30 seconds after the doors closed before departing: like mainline trains. By the time we got to Green Park, my hopes were fading fast. Then there's a marathon trek to the Jubilee Line - where I couldn't make up any time, again because of the sheer crowds - but at least a train arrived at the same time I did, and it was only one stop. But what with two sets of escalators to climb (and some more crowds), by the time I finally got out onto Oxford Street, it was already past start time for the concert.
What the hey, I headed off in that direction, promising myself that, if I saw a decent eatery en route, I'd do that instead. My route took me up James Street, where I passed a Starbucks (nope, I was too hungry, wanted a proper meal) and a Nando's (not great memories of the last few times). And then there was this Italian..
I didn't take very much persuading to go into Osteria Ambrosia and ask for a table - Italian food, with a nice rich sauce, was exactly what I wanted. It was too cold to sit outside, although there were plenty of tables there, and some people did. Mind you, it takes some nerve, to enjoy your meal outside - never mind the cold, there are also the street hawkers, the beggars - and just the crush of people pushing past, many with shopping bags, this close to Oxford Street.
Inside, it's cosy, and the wall beside the stairs leading down to the toilets is draped with strings of fairy lights. Service was a bit slow in coming - probably partly due to the food being cooked from fresh. But you know, they're friendly, and there's a great vibe. My wine - when it eventually came - was lovely. The garlic bread was excellent. And the steak in mushroom sauce? Mmmm-hmmmm.... Glad I went. It was so sublime that I didn't even feel like spoiling the taste with dessert - and the bread he offered me, to mop up the sauce, was much appreciated. It wasn't exactly cheap, but neither did it break the bank, and what the hey, that concert ticket didn't cost much anyway. Although it would've been good, I'm sure.
Afterwards, I strolled back via a toy shop (well, 'tis the season!):
And although I wasn't overly impressed with the lights on Oxford Street itself, these on the adjacent Stratford Place were quite nice:
And so, glad to be home, and fed, early for once. For tomorrow, it's about time I got back to the cinema - and for that matter, about time I got to see what all the fuss is about Brooklyn, and why it's consistently climbed in ratings, when most fall - even the good ones. It stars the ever-watchable Saoirse Ronan as an Irish immigrant (to Brooklyn, natch) in the 50s, who gets over her initial homesickness to find that life in the big city can be quite exciting. A galaxy of stars has turned up for the ride (mostly Irish) - Bríd Brennan, Jim Broadbent as the Irish priest in Brooklyn who makes her feel at home, Maeve McGrath, Julie Walters - as the lady in charge of the boarding house, I think, Domhnall Gleeson as the young man that might tempt her back to Ireland. Based on the novel by Colm Tóibín, and showing in the Vue Fulham, which I can walk to from my (soon-to-be) old flat. (I had been thinking about a Kurosawa film in Shoreditch, but it turns out to be available on Amazon anyway..)
On Thursday, I'm back with Let's Do London - for Less!, for more Irishness; they're off to Soho Theatre to see a comedy entitled "How to Keep an Alien" - the foreign kind, not the kind with tentacles. On Friday, the organiser of the Kensington Classical Music group has very kindly invited me - as her guest - to another classical concert. On Saturday, I'm headed with the London European Club to a carol service with a difference, at a Romanian church in town. And on Sunday, I have an overdose of Anthony; Let's Do London - for Less! is off to a matinee of "Your Last Breath" at Southwark Playhouse - based on the true story of a Norwegian woman found trapped in the ice - and in the evening, London for Less Than a Tenner is off to a concert in Cadogan Hall. Actually, so is Let's Do London - for Less! but there's no conflict.. guess who's in charge of both?! So I can blithely pick the cheaper group. ;-)
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