Review of The Tiger, Camberwell

As part of my mission to explore the delights of South London, my friends and I paid a visit to The Tiger next to Camberwell Green. 

The tables were cosily stuffed into the busy pub, and everyone seemed to be happily enjoying themselves on a rainy Saturday night in April. The Tiger is only a short bus ride from my flat in Elephant and Castle, and was a welcome change from the bustle of central London establishments I am wont to frequent. 

Formerly called the Silver Buckle, the atmosphere was buzzing and lively, filled with an array of very normal people. Obviously young and reasonably trendy, but nothing close to the painful hipster-ism of the Old Queen’s Head in Islington the other week - though the decor was equally as sumptuous.

The décor was a delightful mash of 1900s period furniture and ornaments, the highlight being art nouveau shell lampshades ensconced on the wall, emitting a pearlescent glow over the revelers. The sense was very modernist art salon, but lightened up by the moose heads protruding from the walls. The highlight was their propensity to play old songs by The Smiths; need I say more?  

I’m not sure about value for money as I had my drinks bought for me all night (only two, in fairness) by my ever-generous boyfriend. There were no complaints later on so I assume they were fairly average for a zone 2 student-y pub in South London. I recommend this pub highly as a gem below the Thames. 

 

The Tiger 18 Camberwell Green London  SE5 7AA

Rumpus, Islington Metal Works - Review

http://rumpusparty.co.uk/wp-uploads/2011/10/5.stef-5.jpg

A Dorset country bumpkin like me barely knows how to process partying the night away at somewhere like Metal Works: it hosts weddings by day and raves by night. The warehouse party I ever went to (NYE 2010) was great, but costume-gala rave Rumpus hosted every two months is a spectacular array of campness and delight. 

My attempt to photograph revelers. 

The fancy dress theme is always a new one, and this time it was myths and legends. There were a many heads turned at Angel Station,  just round the corner from the venue, and especially when the man dressed a giant zebra - replete with stilts - trotted past. Not sure what legend that creature was from. The male costumes were particularly awe-inspiring – there was anything from a gaggle of Mr Tumnuses, Mad Hatters and vaguely defined Classical warriors, as well as fairies, angels and dandies. 

The effect was both childishly whimsical and devilishly intriguing. You find yourself staring open-mouthed at people as they frolic happily, dancing and drinking the night away. I took many terrible-quality pictures inside the venue to prove the wonders that I beheld, in order to convince my friends that attending the next Rumpus in two months time is a good idea. 

It is indeed like a wonderland, a carnival of very chilled-out pockets of people interspersed with glitter, ball-pits and alcohol. 

One feature of the night I particularly like was the live-and-let-live attitudes – the bouncers were almost invisible and clearly there for safety rather than control. The downstairs bartenders were serving drinks from a converted train carriage and artists were illustrating the walls in black marker-pen. 

Train carriage bar! Serving helpings of mead. 

The live music playing constantly may be loosely defined as gypsy swing and electro swing – re-purposed violins and accordions adding to the jovial atmosphere. The latter genre enjoys popularity en mode, apparently due to an expiration of copyright on twenties music which makes the genre very cheap to produce – or so says one of the band managers attempting to chat me up.

The club was very spacious too, which is good for someone small like me. At £10.00 for an early bird ticket, and opening hours from 10pm to 7am, you can hardly get more for your money in any other club in London. It was also shockingly easy to get back to Elephant and Castle from Islington due to my friend’s excellent planning skills – two ten minute bus rides and I was all tucked up in bed by 5am (earlier than most, I'm sure). 

As you can tell from previous posts I don’t club much in London, but if every time was like Rumpus I’d definitely reconsider.

The Hoxton Pony

This time it was a rather different evening of cocktails and cupcakes at one of the trendiest establishments in Shoreditch; a rather hard status to achieve in that particular borough! I used to visit Hoxton quite a lot when my sister lived there, temporarily renting a room in an unbelievably cool artist’s warehouse from a friend of a friend. The rent – even reduced – was almost equally as unbelievable. Having not ventured to this part of London in a while, this time I didn’t feel like sinking into the ground with my un-stylishness.

It was pleasant to realise that I feel more confident in my own appearance, because arriving to live in London for the first time during July last year was a bit of a culture shock. I had never inhabited a place so obviously crammed full of people that had more money than me, tourist or otherwise. Also given the fact that the only clothes shop within two miles of where I live now is Dorothy Perkins – there are two!

Still, everyone seems to become breath-takingly beautiful only a short bus journey from the Topshop-free zone, testifying once again to the dazzling mysteries of life in the capital city.

I think I’ve come a long way since that naïve beginning, having held down several CV-worthy jobs, generated an active social life, almost completed an English Literature Masters and also currently preparing for an interview in the arts. Not to mention making the most of everything there is to do here! The Hoxton Pony was actually geographically easy to find, my sister and I both equipped with GoogleMaps on our precious iPhones.

The ‘cocktail tea party’ consisted of four cupcakes on a beautiful cake stand – the kind with the ballerina legs protruding from the top – and a glass infusion jar containing an alcoholic concoction chosen from well-written menu. The china cups were pretty and everything attractively decorated (possibly excepting some wall art that was basically shards of twisted metal from what must have been a huge pile-up), though the barmaid failed to bring us the knife we asked for and there was actually no tea involved. The establishment having seemed potentially awkward and out of our league, it actually encouraged lively conversation whilst providing a comfortable environment in which to relax. The cakes were delicious, apparently made to order, and I personally was a little tipsy from the infusion upon our exit.

The best feature of the Pony was the impeccably friendly and professional service. We were made to feel like honoured guests, despite our Groupon, very much unlike that awful hotel in Bloomsbury mentioned in a previous post (‘The Mercure’ – don’t bother with it!). Perhaps hipsters in central East London are more in tune with thriftiness.

Despite the ups and downs, and perhaps because of them, it’s been an exciting and educational tea tour so far. As the deadline for my dissertation has loomed quicker than I would have ideally preferred, I’m not sure I’ll have time for another tea stop before the last word on Virginia Woolf and the ubiquitous cuppa has to be written, but this will not be the end. This endeavour shall continue even after that last sheaf of paper disappears behind the English Course Desk, filed away to be scrutinised and marked. 

Slight clash of time periods. Reminiscent of the lush twenties and yet with a twist of modern-day glamour. 

Le Chandelier

The next stop on the tearoom tour is located at 161 Lordship Lane, East Dulwich, SE22 8XH. Having never ventured into the area before, I was pleasantly surprised by the relaxed and quiet high street, as well as the enticing array of restaurants, cafes and boutiques to be found in the district. A particularly interesting shop was called Mrs. Robinson (http://www.mrsrobinsonshop.co.uk/), offering a large selection of retro-style goods that made me wish I wasn’t a poor, struggling student. Opposite the shop was the tearoom itself, and just like its website (http://www.lechandelier.co.uk/) it is simple, elegant and appealing; just like the tearoom itself.

The front is finished in rose and mushroom, boasting an outside seating area, occupied with a scattering of delicate wrought-iron garden seats. Le Chandelier itself has a very homely - though stylishly contemporary – interior, satisfyingly crammed with a myriad of chairs, sofas and tables. The patisserie near the entrance was loaded with enticing cakes and the signature symbol of the tearoom, the upside-down ballerina legs, decorated many of the goods. The staff were wonderfully welcoming, and the thinly disguised South London twangs were only faintly amusing.

The establishment is much bigger than it looks from the outside, and we were quickly seated at our reserved table. The crockery spread over the wooden surface was a delightful array of floral patterned antiques, contrasted with the rather modern glass tea strainers that replaced teapots. Near our table a large watercolour illustration of the tea party from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland emblazoned the wall.

The food and drink itself was more than satisfactory, and I myself sampled the vanilla flavoured black tea. It was very sweet and certainly didn’t require the entire sugar cube I dumped in it. The scones were fresh, warm from the oven, and though the helpings of cream were a little meagre the friendly waitress lost no time in topping us up with a whole bowlful upon request.

I consider this my first authentic afternoon tea experience in London, which captures the piquant and yet serene atmosphere so integral to a good tea. Very different from the austere opulence of the historical Dorchester hotel, at £7.45 for scones and tea it offers reasonably good value for money and the unbeatable taste of nostalgia for a time in which you've never lived. 

High Tea... On the High Seas?

http://hightea.wellcomeapps.com/

A tea game from the Wellcome Trust! <3

Afternoon Tea in Bloomsbury

For my dissertation I am doing a tearoom tour of London. The subject of my research is tea in the time of Virginia Woolf (one of the most respected and well-read modernist writers), whose life spanned the late Victorian period to the beginning of the Second World War, and whose work mainly focused on the city and its inhabitants, with historical events a casual backdrop often discussed between the characters over tea and cakes. Afternoon tea was a national institution, particularly for the upper classes who observed a myriad of intricate rules for its service. In my thesis I assert that the propensity in the modernist literary imagination for the tea table betrays a nostalgia for the certainty of Victorian hierarchical society, contrary to a popular belief that the modernists rejected anything traditional or established. My study reveals how even the most avante-garde and elite artists still enjoy a good cuppa.

While many things were changing for the better in the early twentieth century, such as vastly increased independence and rights for women, as well as the onset of capitalism sweeping away the dominance of the landed aristocracy, it is evident that there was a prevalent sense of identity crisis. With traditional gender and class structures waning, the renegotiation of social roles became frequent, and taking tea was one way in which to do this. During the nineteenth century, women were revered as the angels of the tea table who elegantly dispensed the rejuvenating drink to the hard-working men, the servants of empire. Slowly tea-time began to morph into a ubiquitous pastime that transcended class boundaries and became a staple of the day; that bastion in the bleak time between lunch and dinner.

In order to fully immerse myself in the real history of this intriguing social more, I am embarking upon a tour of London’s tearooms. My first stop was the Dorchester Hotel in Knightsbridge (http://www.thedorchester.com/, and featured as hosting the tennis players in the romcom, Wimbledon!), as a Christmas present from my boyfriend and a most luxurious afternoon. Unfortunately I shall not be reviewing that, but I will review afternoon tea at the Mercure hotel, Bloomsbury, London (pronunciation of which is still unknown, http://www.mercure.com/gb/united-kingdom/index.shtml), with one of my best friends.

            My expectations were naturally very high after a very expensive tea in a plush West end hotel, though not so distorted that it was unfair to say my experience in Bloomsbury (my favourite area of London, I might add, before I realised that only very wealthy people are allowed to live north of the river) was rather mediocre. I was particularly excited by the fact that this area of London is overtly associated with Woolf herself and her literary circle. However, apart from an extremely genial Chinese man who welcomed us into the hotel out of the summer rain, there was a lack of ceremony to a meal that is mainly about presentation and behaving traditionally. This means that the serving staff are polite but not too familiar (think the opposite end of the scale to TGI Friday’s, which is nonetheless an excellent chain of restaurants, and more along the lines of Café Rouge), formal enough without being pretentious. The waiter we had seemed a bit beleaguered and none too keen to wait on us after we handed over our Groupon, though I’m mystified as to why companies sign up to these schemes if they are resentful at honouring them! One reason for the chilled reception might have been the sight of us whipping out our notebooks as soon as we sat down, but at no point did we do anything socially unacceptable, and staff must remain professional at all times!