Don’t for a moment think that Chiswick is all just a picturesque little pocket of west London with wide, tree lined streets and designer lattes. Don’t be fooled by this neighbourhood’s trendy residents or the Aston Martins they drive. Chiswick can be ghetto and gangsta rap too, as B and I discovered when we had parked ourselves outside the Bell & Crown on the river near Kew Bridge.
First there’s a police helicopter circling just above our heads and towards the other side of the bridge. Then several police cars turn up sirens blazing. And then a police boat. Clearly all the big boys were gathering and it became clear they were looking for something. From where we were sitting on the wall, we could see under the bridge and sure enough, after much ado they pull up what’s clearly a body and proceed to roll it up in a huge white sheet. That ain’t good. From checking the local news this morning, I now know a member of the public had spotted a body floating in the river and apparently it was a man in his 70s who is yet to be identified.
We knew it was a dead body when the big boys weren’t in any rush to get him/it across to the ambulances waiting on the river bank. I’ve actually seen a similar thing before and it was equally horrid. In equally posh Richmond, as it happens. Was having a drink with a friend when an ambulance turns up and parks close by. On a bench there was a homeless person that I guess we presumed was sleeping. Nope, he was dead as a do-do. Same thing. No rush. Creepy.
There’s been more ghetto action lately, as it happens. B told me that there was commotion one evening when he was out for a run, again along the river – suddenly there were two policemen chasing after two youths that they proceeded to body search, followed by two plain clothes officers with GUNS coming sprinting in the same direction. What’s happening with Chiswick?!
Not only did I choose this area because it’s utterly lovely, has lots of parks, is right on the river and has two of the best schools in west London. I also chose to live here because it’s safe. No nightlife to speak of, just a high street with plenty of nice bars and restaurants, a myriad of cafes and beyond that just loads of estate agents and boutiques. Love it here, always have. This I didn’t sign up for though. Dead bodies being retrieved when we’re havig a glass of wine in a beautiful spot on a Sunday evening? Thought I was in Harlesden there for a minute.
Aside from dead bodies, the weekend was amazing. After the party night in Ipswich, we drove back to London and stopped by Scandinavian Kitchen for lunch, which wasn’t as amazingly good as I thought it’d be, but still enjoyed our smorgasbord consisting of three open sandwiches with meatballs on one, shrimps on one and salmon on one. Yummy but not mind-blowing. Lunch today is clearly going to be equally not-mind-blowing as I foolishly put B in charge of ordering the food shopping. He has ordered in all the bathroom stuff (good boy) and stocked up on stuff to stick in the freezer (well done) but with all the meat he’s failed to put in the basket stuff to actually cook it with, like stuff to make pasta sauces from.
This leaves me with two choices: fry a chicken breast fillet and have with rice, just plain like that, or… ..well, there isn’t anything else you could have on its own. Minced beef? Eurgh.
What I have created in the kitchen though is chocolate balls. They used to have a much more controversial name back in the un-PC 80s, but for fear of getting lynched I won’t repeat their original name here.
B loves them and I kick ass making them, so as long as I don’t scoff them all before B gets home (I’ve had about ten already and it’s only mid-morning), everyone should be happy.