I’ve noticed that many Londoners, both native and new, can be quite picky with their postcodes. North, south, east or west, no one seems shy about sharing why they think their part of this city is the best place to live and why it’s much, much better than yours. Personally, I’m fairly neutral on the whole matter; my flat criteria consists of spare room, decent sized kitchen, short distance to tube station and supermarket, not outrageously expensive, outdoor space optional. We happened to find a flat that ticks all those boxes and it happens to be in Tooting, that’s SW17, in case you didn’t know.
It’s not one of those swanky central postcodes or even one of the sought after SW ones (I’m looking at you Claphams) but it’s certainly got character and more recently has often been reported as quite ‘up and coming’. Or so people kept telling us when we moved here, I think they said it in Time Out which we all know is quite the authority on these matters. Yet I was still unphased by this ‘my suburb is better than yours’ malarky, frankly, our flat fits the bill and I’m not that worried about precisely where it is. But then we started thinking about moving and I thought, it’s more than not bad here, it’s actually pretty good, and getting better all the time.
I’ve been to a lot of restaurants where you can tell the dessert menu is an afterthought. They’re generally the ones with a crowd-pleasing chocolate dish and some fruit based thing to appease those watching their figures but as disappointing as this can be, I’d rather boring than bad. As long as that chocolate brownie is gooey or your crumble has the right fruit to crumb ratio, I’ll forgive your lack of originality. I guess they are smart enough to know they only need to meet the minimum requirements to satisfy those schmucks out there who’ll eat anything to end on a sweet note. Schmucks like me. I’ve been burned before, I’ve eaten at enough restaurants, I should know better but even when I do smell a rat, the devil that is my sweet tooth just takes over and orders anyway. I know, I have willpower issues, is there a group for this?!
A friend once asked, with a slightly disgusted glint in her eye, whether we ate pudding every night because that would just be outrageous right? Well at the time I was shamed into denying it, ‘oh no, of course not, maybe just once a week’ but of course that’s a big fat lie with a quenelle of ice cream on the side. Sorry pudding-police, t’s more like several nights a week. However on Sunday I pushed myself further, not just one dessert but five, in one sitting, oh yes the things I do for my craft! With a couple of sweet toothed friends in tow, I skipped the main and went straight for desserts at Happy Endings Presents a Month of Sundaes at POND Dalston.