Bam-Bou and Bamboo

On Friday night the very kind Slinx took me to dinner to Bam-Bou at No 1 Percy Street. This is just opposite the south end of Charlotte Street.

Bam-Bou

This is an interesting place. The building, originally a town house is over set over four floors. The restaurant is on the ground floor and the bar is up top on the fourth. Its a network of small rooms with interesting places to sit and decor that's dark, semi eastern and charming. We bought drinks on the fourth and found somewhere to sit on the third. It feels very much still like a house and having our drinks in a third floor room felt very much like being in someone's private party. I got a splinter off my chair. This used to be a members only bar but that's changed now. I would imagine due to competition. I recommend going for drinks if you would like somewhere with no bustle to sit and chat whilst relaxing. Oh, I got another splinter in my hand from the door edge.

This bills itself as a French Vietnamese restaurant. At our allotted time we went downstairs to eat. I have never eaten French food in Vietnam so I can't comment as to its authenticity. It was quite good and I liked the twists. My stir fried beef was cooked perfectly and served with salt pepper and lime to mix to taste. The food is not crazily priced but the wine is heavily marked up. Expect to pay £30 for a bottle of anything half decent. Later, as we were having coffee I moved my chair slightly and got yet another splinter in my hand.

Hmmmm I thought.

I pointed out the splinters to the manager in a concerned, you should be aware, type of way. I was most surprised when he came over a little later and insisted I have a drink on the house. He was most surprised when I opted for a glass of port. He wasn't to know that my eagle eyes had earlier scoped that they only had one port on the menu, and that was priced at £14. It was very good. I resolve to run my hands over the woodwork in every venue I visit from now on.

Overall. Recommended for just drinks or for just food, or indeed, just both.

Free the Trapped Children

A few of the adoring millions have shouted about my last post. It seems that I am harsh to the tiny children of London Town and should refocus my attention away from their tear stained faces and aim it squarely at their parents. Apparently parents don't let the little bundles of joy out any more. They drive them to and from school instead of letting them catch the bus or walk, and they wouldn’t ever allow the gifts to the next generation to wander about looking for cars to clean or paths to sweep for extra pocket money. No, it seems the Daily Mail, Daily Express and co have won. All parents believe that a paedophile lurks on every corner and in every house. Except theirs of course.

I worry for the little sods. How on earth can you grow up with any nous whatsoever if you are hermetically sealed? After all if you don't learn on your own to recognise the scary bloke that lives in the overgrown house on the end of the street how will you know to recognise the scary ones later on? hmm? Who's fault is it all?

Don't get me started...

Bamboo

Today I spent some time in the garden. Spring is stuttering in. I removed the winter nets from the pond, I cleared the paths around the vegetable beds. I began to tidy. God though! there is a lot to be done out there. All the playing out I've been doing over the last months means that there is lots to do.

That mole is toast...

thegardener1969@msn.com