The village of Bedfont in Middlesex is not the kind of place you'd purposefully go and visit. Lying in the shadow of Heathrow airport, it's one of many suburbs you pass through in a hurry to catch your plane. But tucked away on the village green lies the parish church of St Mary the Virgin, which boasts a very impressive display of topiary.

Either side of the church gate are two towering yew trees that have been shaped to form two peacocks and an arch. These birds sit on top of a pile of leafy pillows which in turn rest on a topiary inscription: 1704 and 1990. The whole structure towers over the path to the church and at night it is floodlit magnificently.

The church itself dates from 1150 but it is thought that the trees were first cut into peacocks in 1704. Several periods of dilapidation and restoration followed with the most recent restoration being in 1990, remedying the neglect of the post-war years.

Such is the presence of these mighty birds in the village, that they are represented on the local district council crest and Bedfont Green F.C. are known affectionately as "The Peacocks". In 1827 Thomas Hood published a lengthy poem about them called "The Two Peacocks of Bedfont":

Each Sabbath morning, at the hour of prayer, Behold two maidens, up the quiet green Shining, far distant, in the summer air That flaunts their dewy robes and breathes between Their downy plumes,--sailing as if they were Two far-off ships,--until they brush between The churchyard's humble walls, and watch and wait On either side of the wide open'd gate ….

Worth missing a plane for.

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Posted by Jasia on May 30, 2009 | Permalink

I have to admit that I am completely stumped by this place, despite my best efforts to delve under the surface. Internet searches have found nothing – simply more people asking the same questions as myself, and trying to tease out answers from the owners has been unfruitful as they remain eerily aloof. The place in question is Enis’s Cafe in Waterloo, London.

Enis’s sits squarely in an area of London that would at first glance appear unremarkable. As one of the main routes into South London the roads are clogged with buses and covered in tumble weeds of litter from the nearby train station. However, a closer inspection reveals an area that is well worth a visit should you be passing through or find yourself with a slow connection at Waterloo station. There is the Hole in the Wall pub under the arches of the station, Caprini’s Italian restaurant with original fittings that remind me of my Polish granny’s house, the fantastically named “Fishcoteque” fish and chip shop and then there is the strange coffee hatch on Alaska Street...

This coffee hatch was my introduction to Enis’s. Like a moth to a flame I have been drawn towards this tiny hatch for years, not realising that it was just the tip of an iceberg. The street it sits on is dark and gloomy due to the train line that runs overhead. At night the yellow light shines out of the hatch and peering in you are met with a most marvellous sight, for here is a tiny kitchen that is entirely covered in aluminium foil. Part fairy grotto, part Warholian Factory the effect is breath taking. Tins of spam nestle into their silver background next to tomatoes and on the wall is an intriguing notice announcing “Enis’s SOS... the elixir of life”.

One day whilst peering in and getting random strangers to acknowledge the greatness of this unassuming place, a man appeared on the serving side of the hatch. I asked if I could take some photos of the inside and he said I was welcome to. He then enquired if I had ever been to the cafe round the front as this hatch was just for quick snacks and beverages. I followed his pointy finger and found myself in an astonishing interior. Long and thin, the cafe is filled with a mish-mash of furniture – some 1950s Formica tables and a long breakfast bar down one side with plastic bar stools. The window is painted with slogans in Coca-Cola font talking again of “Enis’s SOS”. But perhaps the most impressive features are the walls and breakfast bar which are covered in swirly hand-painted patterns in pastel and wax crayon. On the surfaces there are unusual trinkets, pictures of Elvis and collages made from magazines. At the end of the room is a large sign saying “£100” next to some odd-looking jars of stuff.

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Posted by Jasia on October 07, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (5)

You may already be familiar with the Golden Triangle in South East Asia, and no doubt you have heard tales of the strange goings-on in the Bermuda Triangle in the Atlantic, but did you know that Yorkshire is home to its very own brand of triangle… the Rhubarb Triangle!

This mysterious land sits between Wakefield, Morley and Rothwell and despite being only nine square miles in size it used to produce 90% of the world’s forced rhubarb crop. Special Rhubarb Express trains would leave from Wakefield headed for London’s old Covent Garden Market where it was distributed. In its heyday there were over 200 rhubarb producers who were the first in the World to erect special “forcing” sheds where they perfected the art of growing rhubarb out of season.

Forcing rhubarb is a very labour intensive method which hasn’t changed much in 200 years. First the rhubarb is left to grow outside in a field for two years where it stores energy in its roots. It is then exposed to a frost and the entire plant is lifted out of the ground and placed on the floor inside a warm, dark forcing shed. These sheds have no soil so the plant must use the energy reserves in its roots to grow stems. The dark and the warmth encourage this growth and it is said that the plants grow so quickly under these conditions that you can hear the buds popping. The resulting forced rhubarb is much more tender and sweeter than rhubarb grown outside.

With the advent of exotic fruit importing in the sixties, Britain’s love of this vegetable began to wane. Today there are only a handful of producers left. One of the most well-known is E.Oldroyd & Sons Ltd who have been forcing rhubarb since the thirties. Janet Oldroyd Hulme is often referred to as the “High Priestess of Rhubarb” and every year between January and March she opens up her forcing sheds to the likes of you and me.

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Posted by Jasia on September 03, 2008 | Permalink

When I accidentally dropped my gerbil on the kitchen floor and killed it, my Mum’s response was “Let’s go to Blackgang Chine!”. If there was ever a place on Earth where you could forget about the premature demise of your favourite rodent, Blackgang Chine was it. That was twenty five years ago and the place made such an impression on us that my Mum took the family there to celebrate her sixtieth birthday in 2003.

Hanging precariously onto the Southerly cliffs of the Isle of Wight, Blackgang Chine is one of a dying breed of family-run Theme Parks. It was set up in 1842 by Alexander Dabell who saw money-making potential in this spot of outstanding natural beauty. Having landscaped some gardens at the top of the Chine, he then put the area firmly on the tourist trail by acquiring a stranded whale at auction. He sold off the blubber and installed the bleached skeleton in a hut. Blackgang Chine was now officially open for business and people came from all over Britain to see the whale and walk in the beautiful gardens.

To this day, descendants of Alexander Dabell still run the park which now covers an impressive 40 acres of land. There have been a few concessions to modern expectations, such as the recent “Cliff Hanger” rollercoaster but these make little impact when compared to the folk-art qualities of the fibreglass attractions that have remained intact since the Seventies. Walking through the giant pirate’s legs at the entrance, the memories came flooding back. Imagine my joy as I re-entered “Frontier-Land” cowboy town and sat astride the same steed of yesteryear, turning a corner only to find that “The Crooked House” had not fallen prey to the terrible landslides of the Nineties. “Nursery Land” still contained the giant hallucinogenic mushrooms of my childhood and the bizarre ape-men continued to lurk in the trees en route to “Dinosaur Land”.

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Posted by Jasia on January 20, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (3)