Moving Day! From Chelsea to Battersea, Off I Go!

Monday, September 15, 2025

Battersea, London

Moving Day! From Chelsea to Battersea, Off I Go!

After days of traipsing tirelessly around London, it was time today to give it a (minor) rest. Since it’s the day I move out of my Air B and B in Chelsea-Fulham and shift to my friend’s home in Battersea (she’s had a houseful of family who have just vacated and left the guest room to me), I awoke fairly early and began blogging (as is my wont). Then I began packing my few belongings (how can such a small handful of items weigh such a ton?), showered, dressed, munched on a pain au chocolat and a mug of decaff coffee and said Bye to my lovely landlady Helen. My friend Roz and I would connect later in the day but, with the morning free, I decided to get to Piccadilly to see the Keifer/Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy of Art. It was a beautiful day and it seemed a pity to spend it merely looking at the rooftops of Chelsea from my window in the fourth story garret that is my little room.

On the Bus to Piccadilly and Facing a Disappointment:

It’s amazing how quickly one becomes familiar with a new neighborhood in London. Striding to the bus stop and waiting for the No. 14 to turn up suddenly felt as if it was something I’d done forever. When the bus trundled along, I took my favorite seat—upper deck, front and center—and enjoyed the passing city beneath me. I took a lot of pictures of the brand new gardens at the Natural History Museum (inaugurated only last week by Catherine, Princess of Wales) and surely (but way too slowly) arrived at Piccadilly where I hurried inside—only to discover that the Royal Academy of Art is closed on Mondays! Bummer!

There was only one thing to be done—when the Mecca of artistic masterpieces is out of bounds, you hurry into the Mecca of Modern Gastronomy. Fortnum and Mason, my favorite food market in the world, stood obligingly opposite—so off I went into its 18th century revolving doors and joined the Japanese hordes squawking over dreams of marmalade and pukka cuppas. I needed a gift for my friend, Rosa Fradley, who informed me only two days ago that she could actually make it from Essex to London to see me. I hadn’t brought her a gift from Bombay, so F and M would be the place to get it. With a lovely musical tin of chocolate-covered gingers in my basket, I paid at the till and scooted off—so as not to be late for my next appointment. And what an appointment it was! So I walked one block to the Tube station at Green Park, got off at South Ken and jumped into the 345 bus going directly to Battersea. And I made it with minutes to spare!

The Bottomless Cake Experience at Jack and Beyond:

Everyone who knows me also knows of my gluttony for cake! So when I had discovered ‘Jack and Beyond’ and the gastronomic excess it promised in a shameless indulgence in Cake, I looked long and hard for a companion to share my joy. NO such luck! Everyone I know eww-ed when I told them there was “All You Can Eat Cake in 90 Minutes” for 25 pounds a pop!

But I remained undeterred! And on this visit to London, I promised myself I would do it—even if it meant sitting alone and salivating over scrumptious slices of Sugar. So here is how it went: I was presented with a slate salver of seven wedged slices of cake—basically the specialties of the house. Here they are: Red Velvet, Pistachio and Raspberry, Choco and Peanut Butter Banana, Carrot and Cinnamon, Double Chocolate, Tiramisu and one cheesecake—Lemon and Blueberry (which, funnily enough, was the best of the lot). I chose my favorite flavor first: the Double Chocolate (it was okay—no great shakes), then the Cheesecake (which was scrumps—it had a cookie-like crust and a white chocolate topping) and then the Pistachio and Raspberry. And, if you can believe it, that was all I could manage! The last was quite good but I was already satiated at this point and my palate felt jaded. As they usually sell the wedges at just under five pounds each, I was a total loss!

And if there is one complaint I could make it is this: They take reservations in advance and know when customers are expected. It would be nice if the salver of seven slices is kept outside at room temperature for a while to allow the buttercream frosting to soften and acquire the creamy consistency that cake-connoisseurs look for in their wedges. These were ice-cold—hence the cake was hard and the buttercream was not buttery. This definitely detracted from my enjoyment of the treat.

And yes, what with my general lack of sleep, all the manic walking I’ve been doing over the past few days, I felt sleepy, put my head in the pillow of my palm and decided to have a nap—yes, it was the typical sugar coma that follows the sweet rush! I napped for about 20 minutes before the sweet salesman, Yaseen, came to inquire if I was okay! Oh the deep embarrassment of it all! I told him I was fine—just catching up on my sleep. The place was empty, by the way. I had it entirely to myself (which is why I could indulge in so unrefined a practice). And then, when it was about 2.15 pm and my friend Roz texted me to say that she was free and I could come over, I went to the counter to settle my bill.

I was fully expecting him to charge me full price and send me on my way—but since I was alone (most people come in twos to share the salver and pay half-price each), he offered to pack up the remaining slices for me to take-away! How thrilling! I can now enjoy my cake the way I like it—at room temperature with the creaminess of butter frosting moistening the sponge and rendering it heavenly!

So how was my Bottomless Cake Experience, overall? Well, let’s just put it this way…I’m glad I got it out of the way. If you are an avid cake-eater I would recommend it, but I would also suggest you call in advance to confirm your reservation and request them to keep the salver out at room temperature for at least an hour—so you are not eating ice-cold cake.

Off to a Reunion with Roz:

At 2.30 pm, I strolled one block away to my friend Rosemary (I know her as Roz) who lives on the next street. We had a lovely joyous reunion as she had spent the morning cleaning up her house after her many family members had left, changing bed and bath linen, doing laundry and generally making my room picture-perfect for my arrival. Bless her! We could not stay long, however, as we had two errands to run before I made it on time for my dinner engagement with my friend Rosa at Liverpool Street Station. Roz had offered to drive me in her car, first to Paddington, to the home of our mutual friend, Bande Hasan, who was holding on to my suitcase that I had dropped off on my day of arrival when the Tube Strike was on; and then to Chelsea-Fulham to my Air B&B to pick up my backpack. There was no time to lose as there was London traffic to fight.

Visit with a Mutual Friend:

Yes, London traffic is a bear—and if you are actually behind the wheel of a car attempting to zip around town, perish the thought! You will be muttering profanities at every turn as some ignoramus tries to cut you off, intrudes into your lane with no signal or simply stops short in the middle of the road! Let me assure you that those days are gone when London was a civilized city. The place has been overrun by all sorts who have no respect for law and order, custom or tradition, and are running riot around the place with little thought for anyone other than themselves.

But eventually, we reached Paddington and stopped to pick up my suitcase left with the doorman when we were informed that our friend Bande was back from his medical appointment. We decided to park the car for just a few minutes and go upstairs to meet him. And that we did! It was a really nice reunion between him and Rosemary as they have not seen each other for at least a couple of years. We visited and caught up for about 20 minutes, but then had to run down to the parking meter or else risk a ticket.

Once again, in the car we went, Roz expertly manipulating the wheels and our route to avoid traffic snarls until we arrived at Fulham Road and made our way to Helen’s building right near the Chelsea Football Stadium. I left Roz in the car right outside my building and raced up four floors to get my stuff. Then, laden with the two bags (one on my back, the other in my hand), I was down in less than ten minutes.

I have to say again that the building is just fabulous—inside, the sage green ceramic tiles lining the stairwell, the heavy iron fretwork running along the polished wooden hand bar, the heavy stone stairs—no, they do not make them like this anymore and, but for the fact that I am no longer a spring chicken and cannot sprint up and down those four floors, it was a privilege to stay here for a few days.

Back in Battersea and Back Off Again:

In about half an hour, we were back home. Roz offered me a cuppa but I had to rush out the door (it as almost 6 pm) for my 7 pm appointment at Liverpool Street Station on the opposite end of town, with my friend Rosa. Fortunately for me, there is a direct bus right outside Roz’s place (the 345) that would take me directly there—no bus change necessary. So I dashed out…

The bus ride was just lovely. It was an hour long and took me on a ‘See London’ Tour through parts I would not otherwise have ventured into on this trip: Lambeth, Elephant and Castle, Southwark. These are places I would regularly traverse when I lived in London, on my mission to reach respondents of my research that formed my book on Anglo-Indians in Britain. In fact, I have to tell you that, at one point, I had a delightful deja-vu moment. Sitting on that upper deck, watching the panorama of London pass beneath me and having eye-level access to the decorative elements of so many vintage buildings, I relived my days as a London resident when this mode of transport had kept me happily engaged for countless hours as I traveled to venues that were once just names to me but with which, in the course of time, I became intimately acquainted. It was good to suddenly feel 17 years younger—when aching bones, protesting muscles, breathless moments, had been many years into the future!

Eventually, we crossed London Bridge and arrived at Liverpool Street Station. Rosa had arrived ahead of schedule and was already at our appointed spot—the bank of ATM machines directly opposite the platforms—and we had a really fond reunion after years. I think I had last seen her at least ten years ago, when I stayed with her and her lovely family at what was then her brand-new home in Stanstead.

Rosa, her husband Matt and I had met in the most unlikely of circumstances: they had taken my Highlights Tour at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on a visit to New York, just before I had moved to London. They had loved it so much that next thing you know, we got chatting about Art, exchanged contact details, met a couple of times when I lived in London and a few times after. I know her boys well—although now that they have grown up so much I doubt I will even recognize them. Yes, now young teenagers, they are in high school and Rosa has her hands full. Which is why I was most appreciative of the fact that she got on a train, made the hour-long journey to London only to see me after a pesky dental appointment.

Strolling Around Spitalfields and Eating a Vietnamese Dinner:

Rosa is also a fan of London and loves nothing more than strolling around it to take in the new sights—in this area, towering skyscrapers that have altered the skyline irretrievably. We made our way to Spitalfields, entered the Victorian Market—all shut down for the day—and decided to go some place quiet where we could catch up at leisure. As Rosa has lived for an extended period in Singapore, she is a huge fan of all food Asian. And it was in search of Pho that we went as we share a mutual love for the steaming bowlful of broth. We found a place called ‘Delicious Pho’ which we took at its word and settled down to enjoy a Bahn Mi, the superb Vietnamese sandwich that includes pate and a salad and a gargantuan bowl of Pho—afloat with sliced brisket and meatballs. It was, as promised, delicious! Plus, we could not stop chattering—about everything under the sun. What a gorgeous catch up we had! Hard to believe it has been so long. I found out that although I do not hear a word back from her, Rosa is a faithful reader of my monthly newsletters and was fully up-to-date on the goings-on in my life! Wow! Who knew?

After feeling fully sated with our meal, accompanied by a shared bottle of Singha Beer, we were ready to call it a day—she had a long journey back home and the school run to do tomorrow and I was a bit worried about walking alone from the bus stop to Roz’s place in the dark.

Bus Journey Back Home:

Rosa waited with me at the bus stop until my 345 came along and after tight goodbye hugs, I was off. Another hour later—this time London glowed under its decorative illuminations when I caught glorious glimpses of Big Ben and Shakespeare’s Globe Theater—I was at my stop and hurrying, quite nervously, to my door. I had the keys—so was able to let myself in to find Roz getting ready to turn in. A few minutes later, I hauled my stuff upstairs to my room, delighted to find it looking as immaculate as a hotel room but far more cozy and comforting. I did not waste too much time before I got ready for bed and then crash-landed into it after what had been a fairly inactive day (by my standards).

Until tomorrow, cheerio…