psmv6: Polish grub

At the begiinning of the month, back to the Polish restaurant underneath the arches at Waterloo, aka the fine new shopping arcade and destination known as the Sidings. The first time, seemingly, since early November last year, maybe even October, as noticed at reference 2.

A day which started bright and warm, with the irises by the micro-ponds out back just starting to show and looking rather well in the mid-morning light. While the micro-ponds are rather showing their lack of maintenance, with my neither removing the dead leaves nor keeping them topped up with water.

A Saturday, so we opted for a ride to Ewell West, where the car park, late afternoon, was much fuller than I expected: we were not the only only ones to think it more convenient than Epsom of a weekend.

While we waited for our train, we had time to notice the blotchiness of the new brick tower for the country-side lift. One supposes that the labourer responsible for mixing the mortar had trouble maintaining his mix from one day to the next. Furthermore, I was not convinced that the corner - left in the snap above - was true - but this may have been some artefact of my vision. If not, down to the bricklayer rather than the labourer: they are supposed to be good at that kind of thing, along with carpenters and scaffolders.

Carriage No.1 turned out to be pretty full, although we did get seats. Plus the usual stream of irritating announcements. Plus being amused by the arrival of an older couple sporting very serious looking walking sticks, perhaps more properly staves. Substantial poles tipped with steel spikes. I associated to the substantial staff noticed at reference 3 - rather to my surprise, more than two years ago now - what has happened to Stewart?- is there life after ministerial death? - there used in the wilds of Afghanistan, rather than at Box Hill or Wimbledon Common.

Out at a busy Waterloo - lots of people all dressed up for a night on the town - and made our way across to the sidings - noisy with rather tiresome musak - but rather more lively than we were last there.

While various interesting looking treatments were on offer at the establishment above. You could, for example, have a thermal stamp back massage for £45.

The large Wetherspoon's was pretty full, although I got served fast enough by a pleasant young lady, and we decided to use one of the tables outside while we waited for our rendezvous. I took a decent pint of 'Naked Lady' served, for once in a dimple glass. This morning I associated to taking a pint of same in the margins of a talk at the Royal Institute, but I find on inspection of reference 4, that I have conflated a wine called 'Quickie' with the beer called 'Naked Lady', taken by the chap whom I was with, rather than me. Perhaps time for another visit to the 'Goat', if not to the Royal Institute, the time for this last, for me at least, being past.

The dimple. Just three dimples in the archive, of which only one, reference 6, is relevant. I think that I once, a long time ago now, preferred them to what I incorrectly (as it turned out) called sleevers. Properly no-nics. or nonics for short. Seemingly misspelt according to reference 7 - but for which Google turns up reference 8.

Through the equally busy Brewdog establishment on our way downstairs, a bit younger in tone than Wetherspoon's. My first visit to a Brewdog establishment, albeit not a consuming visit, an establishment which had clearly passed the partial collapse noticed at reference 5 with flying colours. More security people on the door than at Wetherspoon's.

The Polish restaurant was much busier early evening than it had been on previous lunchtime visits, which was good: it might survive.

After the salad bar, started with a plate of pierogi, perhaps a first, or at least the first time for a while, followed, for me, with some sort of beef on top of potato pancakes. And some of their fine white bread. Substantial stuff.

I associate this (Sunday) morning to the dim sum of the Chinese and the ravioli of the Italians. With us Anglos being more into pies and pasties. The pizzas of the proletarian Neapolitans being the exception that proves the rule.

But I made a mistake with the beer, getting the brewery right - Perła - but taking a honey flavoured beer rather than a regular beer. I did not much care for it at all, but a shot of the potato vodka took away its taste well enough.

Back through the graffiti tunnel to Waterloo, more tourist and family than edgy. Perhaps the real action has moved on. But there were still some good graffiti to be seen - and, not for the first time, I wondered about how much planning, how much preliminary sketching there had been. But it was not convenient to ask on this occasion.

On to find a very grand mobile convenience outside the back entrance to the station. There were a couple of guards who explained that they were for the use of a film crew, although I did not catch where the crew were and I certainly did not see them. But we were welcome to use the facilities if needed, which they were not, but it was decent of them to offer.

Properly glitzy website at reference 10, from which the snap above is taken.

PS 1: at some point in the evening, the Labour politician who had been made Foreign Secretary without either being a Lord (which would not have been very Labour) or an MP came to mind. The one who lost the by-election that was then cooked up for him. But I couldn't put a name to the story. So I was pleased when, much later, Patrick Gordon-Walker popped into mind. Later still, I was reminded by reference 11 that he was quite the Labour Grandee, well qualified to hold the post which he did not, in the event, hold for very long. The sort of Labour grandee that we do not have any more. Nor conservative ones either for that matter; all, perhaps, a reflection of the declining standards of our political life.

PS 2: while this morning, I was prompted by the FT to turn up the Louisiana maganette to be found at reference 13. Her PhD thesis at reference 14. I have not yet found out about her Biblical qualifications, if any.

Maybe there will be a connection to the rituals and symbols of the Pacific northwest, previously noticed.

'... One person close to Birmingham Labour said the party’s ruling National Executive Committee (NEC) had blocked the possibility of a coalition or power-sharing agreement. In a statement, the local group said the election results showed it was “time for us to reflect carefully on the result, listen to residents, and rebuild trust and support with our communities”...'.

PS 3: the above snip from a piece in the FT about the situation in Birmingham is not encouraging. The decent parties have got to learn to work together if we are to keep the indecent parties out of power. Think Hitler.

References

Reference 1: https://www.mamuska.net/.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2025/11/polish-beef.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/11/the-places-in-between.html.

Reference 4: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/04/gravitational-waves.html.

Reference 5: https://psmv6.blogspot.com/2026/03/second-outing.html.

Reference 6: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/01/other-side-of-tracks.html.

Reference 7: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/02/a-special-sort-of-hand-eye-coordination.html.

Reference 8: https://www.brewerynonic.com/beers.

Reference 9: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierogi.

Reference 10: https://www.gtfilmtransport.co.uk/.

Reference 11: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Gordon_Walker.