Illusion

Continuing our ramblings in the coolroom that is London's Autumn, today took us across Kensington to the flower-draped Churchill Arms where hidden in the back rooms behind the ancient public bar, one will find purveyors of Thai cuisine of the kind, surprisingly perhaps, that one finds in Thailand.

Within the darkened cave that may well have been a stable at some time not so long ago, light magically filters through a myriad of hanging plants reflecting in shuttered mirrors along the wall which provide an effect so magically convincing that if one hadn't actually entered from the grey of outside, one could be forgiven for believing it was real.

This kind of falsehood is not new in these parts though.  As we walked up Leinster Gardens earlier in the day, Julian pointed to a house in the middle of a row of immaculate six storey terraces, which had no curtains.   Actually what looked like windows were cleverly painted slabs of masonry, the panelled doors were brick detailed in render, the entire facade was just that, a facade.

In the lane behind the reason became clear, the site was actually a house-sized vent for the underground, it must have been "pleasant" for the neighbours in the age of steam!

Apparently some time in the 1930's an entrepreneurial scoundrel once sold tickets to class-hopping hopefuls, to enable them to attend a soirèe at this entirely fictitious house with its real and most prestigious address.  The amount involved was said to be significant, apparently more than the asking price for our lunch almost a century later.

To be fair only our windows were make-believe.