We might be taking the word ‘fun’ a bit far here but this event on Saturday certainly sounds bonkers so of course we’re interested. Of the information available by the QR code, the event ‘is grounded in spoken and written and spoken language’ with live performances including a jazz band. This is all sounding a bit New Agey to us, which begs the question of bees actually getting involved in the event. We’re thinking along the lines of synchronised stinging.
Multipolyscripttoscribble (?) takes place this Saturday at Bee Urban in Kennington Park
With a sense of unencumbered shock we recently realised that it’s been over four years since KR visited the pizza and cake establishment Collective, which occupies the lovely cottage at the back of Kennington Park and owned by three locals. So we recently made another trip in order to see how they size up to the increasingly competitive Greater Kennington pizza market.
The day in question was ‘stapling day’ for Karen from Finance, so we asked her to join us to break up the tedium and avoid RSI. . She chose the Tuxford Tommi blue, perhaps the most indulgent pizza on the menu featuring tomato sauce, quality mozzarella, Napoli salami, Tuxford Tommi blue cheese, garlic and Bee Urban (which is behind Collective) rosemary. Organic, sustainable and free range are all buzzy words for Collective so you can tell the focus is in ingredients, and we found that to be true with the pizzas that we enjoyed
Your scribe ordered the Napolitana, which was an umami kick of anchovies, capers and black olives, augmented by mozzarella and tomato. It was a proper, thin Neapolitan crust with raised blistered edges, almost to the level of Theo’s, which KR adore. All ingredients were good quality and this creative combination worked very well, provided you like a pizza with a bit of punch and salt.
We also ordered a Caprese salad. It was very generously sized and one could be shared. It offered abundant segments of tomato, combined with torn buffalo mozzarella pieces, basil and olive oil. The tomatoes were slightly, lets say ‘Tescoesque’ (even if organic) and the buffalo mozzarella less creamy than some, but overall with the basil and olive oil it hit most of the right notes and was good alongside the top notch pizza.
Collective if you are reading this (and why wouldn’t you?) we love your, well, collective nature as its nice to see a place where folks can easily work on their laptops, catch up with friends, and where dogs are celebrated. However, what we don’t love is your lack of recycling bins. We were compelled to schlep our recyclables back to Runoff towers, but others were just chucking their cans in the bin. So we’re wagging our oily, pizza engorged finger at you!
Collective is open daily and until 20:00, so is a viable dinner option. The pizzas are midsized, mostly individual affairs, so Karen and I could have our own. And of course, if you don’t fancy pizza they also have a keen looking selection of pastries.
Following on from our post on Monday, we’re here to deliver another event this weekend! We’ve usually held off promoting the Kennington Park Festival as it appears to be geared towards kids. But as the organisers have asked us nicely, we’ve reconsidered as there are dancers and lots of local food pop ups involved on board. However, when we asked that question central to the hearts of our – ‘will there be a bar’, they replied ‘no’. Oh well, it is free after all (and we love free).
Do you wake up at night thinking ‘will the Runoff EVER do a feature on sewage and foul smells’? Well dear reader, if so your time HAS COME as we’re here to reveal the purpose of that black crowned column in Kennington Cross.
The Victorians gave London many architectural gems; the Houses of Parliament and St. Pancras to name a few. In Kennington they endowed us with probably London’s most attractive example of a Stinkpipe, and that is what we see in Kennington Cross. If you’re wondering what we’re talking about, the Victorians solved many problems but struggled with sewage for years. This was called The Great Stink of London and resulted in some radical methods to solve it. Stinkpipes were one such concept and were installed around London to divert the smell of poo and their more noxious byproducts. The concept was to elevate the odours from sewers and subterranean rivers above sensitive Victorian noses.
So while the Great Stink might have been deplorable, it realised great advancements later in the industrial age, such the creation of the Embankment and most recently the mighty Thames Super Sewer. And such is the preoccupation with Stinkpipes that someone with apparently a great deal of time on their hands has mapped them all out.
If you share this interest and also have time on your hands you’ll notice more examples of Stinkpipes in the middle of Vauxhall and in a tiny pocket of Kennington Park, below.
This week marks the 175th anniversary of the Monster Chartist Rally in Kennington Park. Chartism was a working class movement aimed at giving all men (not women unfortunately, that came later) over 21+ the right to vote. They also sought to professionalise Parliament by ensuring that MP’s get paid. This would allow regular working people ( read – men) to become MP’s as opposed to it only being a viable option if you were a property owner and had spare time on your hands during the day.
The Chartists came together on 10 April, 1848 and this so thoroughly freaked out a government who feared a revolution that they called the army to Kennington Park and later recruited thousands of special constables. They even carted off poor old Queen Vic to the Isle of Wight for her own protection. To commemorate this event, the Friends of Kennington Park have put together a spiffy guided tour complete with podcast that outlines how the day unfolded and what happened afterwards. The whole walk takes only half an hour and like most great things we recommend is free.
While you’re in Kennington Park building grey matter why not pop over to the History Hut at the southern end of the park? Not to be confused with the nearby Hound Hut (which we once confused for an sex shop) or indeed Pizza Hut, the Hut is full of fascinating factoids about our beloved neck of the woods over the years.
Next time you go for your constitutional in Kennington Park, take a moment to inspect two unloved fountains which you’ve probably walked past a thousand times but never taken notice of. Their creation and endurance are interesting reminders of the people and events that have unfolded in our hallowed patch over the years.
In the southwest corner of the park you can find part of a fountain which was donated by philanthropist Felix Slade in 1861. This is the same Slade who founded the school of art and a number of professorships. Slade lived in Aulton Place, and the story goes that while walking through the park he asked for a glass of water and was handed dirty water in a chipped glass (with Aulton Place only over the road he could have just popped back home but let’s not get stuck on tiny details). When he saw kids playing in the park without access to clean water, Slade to took to the task like a duck to, well, water.
Slade’s solution for the lack of clean water was laudable but perhaps a bit over the top for a working class Victorian neighbourhood. He funded the erection of an elaborate fountain on a plinth in red Aberdeen granite with brass handles, a large bronze urn, and his own monogram stamped over it, lest people forget who put it there. The handles were nicked shortly thereafter, followed by the urn. When the urn was replaced it was nicked again and then went from being a fountain to a curious oddity and relic of the past. The ornate base remains and is a reminder of the gulf of understanding and wealth that exists in Greater Kennington to this day.
A bit further up into the park you can see the column which is the remains of Tinworth Fountain. It was created in 1872 in buff terracotta by the Doulton Factory in Vauxhall and was the centrepiece of an ornate sunken garden located where the basketball courts currently reside. It was almost totally destroyed in WWII and put back together without its resplendent and overflowing bowl, which moved and then lost. After being relocated several times it found its current home while still sporting its grand central feature, a sculpture depicting the pilgrimage of life. Sadly the sculpture was knocked over and completely destroyed in 1981. The column that we see today was later used as target practice by local youths.
Our beaten and bombed column still stands and if you look closely you can see the painstaking efforts made to both restore and destroy it. Some very clever soul even decided to replace some of the unglazed buff terracotta poured concrete. Nevertheless, Kennington Park has meant many things to many people over the years, and our battered little monuments stand as eternal reminders of that.
We often take for granted living in a society that is peaceful, calm and free of external threat. We’ve all felt vulnerable over the past two years but we also have a great deal to be grateful for. Before we get ensconced in Christmas revelry, we want to share with you a nearly forgotten tragedy that happened in Kennington Park 81 years ago.
At the outbreak of WW2, as now, most of us were vulnerable to events that were beyond our control. To address this, air raid shelters were constructed in Kennington, Vauxhall and Archbishop’s parks for people who were caught in their flats or couldn’t make it into a tube station. In reality these were hastily constructed trenches made of thin concrete slabs. While they were considered ‘bolt holes’ for people caught in the open, often folks had to seek shelter there for upwards of 12 hours.
At 20:05 on 15 October, 1940 part of the Kennington Park shelter suffered a direct hit from a 50lb. bomb. A survivor from a nearby trench recalls the roof being lifted off followed by an eerie silence. Local rescue workers laboured desperately in what must have been extremely dangerous circumstances to recover as many survivors and bodies as possible, but erosion and mud make their task insurmountable. No official death toll was announced at the time but the figure is now believed to be 104 fatalities. 50 bodies were recovered and this remains the official death count. Most of them were buried in Lambeth Cemetery; the remainder still lie, unidentified, beneath the park.
As you can imagine, the government did not want to impact this and other civilian disasters for fear that it would adversely affect wartime morale. In the years following the war the incident was largely forgotten until researchers began to put the pieces together from scant news reports and by speaking to survivors a few years ago. Today a stone with an inscription by Maya Angelou stands in the park as a poignant and subtle reminder of the tragedy. So when you next stroll through Kennington Park or have a kickabout, spare a thought for your fellow, former Kenningtonians and just how much we have to be grateful for today in spite of external threats.
From the aerial shot below of the south field in Kennington Park you can still clearly see the outlines of the former trenches.
We’re not proud of this, but since The Event took hold in March we haven’t darkened the door of Oval Farmer’s Market. After a brief period relegated to a community hall it’s been back in St. Mark’s Churchyard for a while now, and for obvious reasons is much more spread out, basically wrapping around the whole of the church.
If you haven’t been to the Market in a while all of the old standards are still on offer; olives, biltong, a range of gluten free things, cheese stalls, fresh fish, coffees, organic wine, and meats. The large veg stall that used to be there is no more, but the proliferation of smaller ones compensate for it. There was also a French/Caribbean food stall that looked pretty delicious and had the buzz.
Even if farmers markets aren’t your cup of chai, it offers folks a safe way to feel somewhat connected to society again and is a nice place to stroll around. For those still a bit queasy about larger crowds the market also provides a click and collect service.
Afterwards we revisited an old favourite, Mimis Deli, which we reviewed earlier this year after eating a sandwich there the size of a childs’ leg. The former seating area at the back has been converted into a very tempting Italian food market/gift shop scenario, which is more experimental than Italo Vauxhall. We ate our mighty ciabatta wrapped sandwiches snugly in Kennington Park in the company of runners who had obviously never eaten a child leg sized meatball marinara sandwich in their lives.
You have doubtlessly walked or run by these little brick cottages in Kennington Park a million times, but have you ever stopped to wonder what it is or how it ended up there? Well, dear reader, consider yourselves to be demystified.
The first clue to our mystery is the inscription ‘Model Houses for Families Erected by HRH Prince Albert’ on the side that faces the street. We doubt that Prince Albert himself took off his ermine lined gloves to build the edifice but with the Prince as patron, it was erected by the ‘Society for Improving the Conditions of the Labouring Classes’ for the Great Exhibition in 1851. The cottage was located outside of the exhibition grounds in Hyde Park and entry was free, unlike the Exhibition itself. After the Exhibition closed, the cottages were moved to our sanctified patch of green and became a minor Victorian tourist attraction.
The model cottages were designed to house four families, with two flats on each level. It was envisioned that the cottages would provide suitable accommodation for people from “the class of mechanical and manufacturing operatives who usually reside in towns or in their immediate vicinity”. Each family was designated a living room, kitchen/scullery, three bedrooms and a toilet – but no bathroom, as was still generally the case in houses built at the time. What we see in our park was a protoype, and it’s unknown whether any were actually executed.
Since 2003 the cottages have been inhabited by the wonderful charity ‘Trees for Cities’ so it isn’t open to the public. However, have a spin around it and contemplate that this one little building was meant to house at least 16 people. It makes you appreciate the era we’re in.
If right now you are thinking ‘my god, it seems like it’s taken a year to get through this top ten list’ then trust me reader, you ain’t the only one. In our crazy reality of face masks and washing hands five times a day, stability seems to be a vacant resource for us all. But your wait has been worth it, as the top spot is awarded to an excellent Eritrean restaurant in Oval which has been a source of continuity in our crib since 1996.
If Eritrean food is new to you, or even if it isn’t, the best launching point at Adulis is the sampler plate called ‘Kirchat’ (there is a vegetarian version as well). It is fundamentally a selection of their best meat and veg dishes served on a platter usually featuring Kifto, which is tender meat in Ghee and to die for. All of the dishes haver have a sweet and sour, almost vinegary tinge to them. They gladly pimped our 2 person serving up to 3 as we had a third diner, and the pic is below. Please don’t let our bad photo below put you off, as not all Eritrean dishes look like cat food.
The dish above is served on a platter with a base of bread called ‘injera’, which is a leavened pancake made with sourdough (and if you run out you can get more for free). Almost all meals here are served with it and the whole shebang is to be eaten with your good hands (remember those days?). We also recommend the chicken stew ‘dorho’ with loads of herbs and also the prawns. They also have some fine looking vegan options.
On the drinks front, we usually have the Kenyan beer ‘Tusker’ or a South African white. Having said that, the speciality of the house is their Adulis honey wine. We’ve had this previously and let’s just place it in the category of ‘experimental’. The place has a slightly retro Eritrean feel to it with memetoes both current and from the past. The staff are very friendly and a good chunk of the punters are (tick!) Eritrean themselves. The place also wafts with the aroma of their coffee and popcorn ceremony.
Adulis is closed at the moment and we can’t see if they deliver by the usual sources. Keep looking online, give them or call to see if you can pop for a takeaway. Failing that, stick it in your pocket diary as all of our venues will need our support in order to survive. As they say in Eritrea, Tsibuk E’dl!!!
