It was cold and raining today, but we’d decided to go to Brixton to see the house where Dani and I stayed for a few months in 1975. When we arrived after a short bus ride I hardly recognised the place- partly due to my flawed memory and partly due to the changes over 35 years. We walked through the town centre, and past the cinema where we'd seen The Harder They Come with Jimmy Cliff shortly after its release in 1972. 
There were nowhere near the number of Jamaican record stores that there used to be, although it was refreshing to hear reggae being blared out in a butcher shop with some West Indian staff. The percentage of the West Indian population seems to have diminished, replaced by Portuguese, Africans, Arabs and yuppies. I didn’t see the large plantains (they look like large bananas) that were there before, but there was still a wide range of yam and sweet potato on sale in the markets.
Eventually, we found the road which I’d dimly remembered and we started walking down it, fighting the wind and rain. Eventually, after checking an old photo I’d brought with me, we located what I thought was the house. I rang the bell and was greeted by a young woman with a 15 month old baby. It appears that the couple had only recently bought the house, and it had been substantially renovated since the 70s. She was quite incredulous when I showed her the photo and told her why we were there, but happily invited us in to look at the house. All indications were that it was the house we’d lived in so many years ago, and it was great to have had that small connection with the past. The area had changed quite a bit, more middle class, and since the 1981 riot in Brixton, the end of the road was rebuilt and new streets were named after Bob Marley and Marcus Garvey.We stopped for some lunch on the way back to the hotel at the Hot and Spicy Bakery which served West Indian food. They also served soup - what kind of soup we asked, “meat”. We settled for a serve of large butter beans and okra and a huge spicy meat-filled bun. Both were delicious, with flavours we’d never tasted before.
In the afternoon, we again headed out in the wind and rain to visit the Imperial War Museum which was not far from Camberwell and recommended to us by Ineke’s brother, John. It was indeed worth the visit with examples of wartime machinery (tanks, planes, V2 rocket, etc) and excellent exhibits detailing the two world wars. 
The two hours we spent there went very quickly, and we especially liked the shop with postcards with reproductions of posters from the wars, and books about cooking during the depression, home gardening and making do with what was available at the time.Later, we walked along the South Bank, but the weather was a little bit uncomfortable as you can see in the photo.
Because of the weather, we decided to eat again locally, and chose a local Turkish restaurant, F.M. Mangal. We ordered two meals, Mousaka and a mixed kebab. While we were waitin, some fresh Turkish bread (very thin and lightly coated in garlic oil) arrived with a roasted onion and garlic dish. It had a very thin tasty sauce that appeared to be coloured with beetroot. Both were delicious, the onion and garlic cooked on the grill so that they lost their bite, but retained their flavour. When we asked the waitress about the ingredients, she said that it was the chef’s secret recipe and no-one else knew the secret.The mains were excellent and large, with rice and salads, and accompanied by a house Merlot that was quite acceptable. While waiting for the bill, the waitress brought complementary slices of fresh pineapple dusted with cocoa (also mixed with nutmeg I think), and then two shots, a banana and a coffee liqueur plus Turkish delight. I know I’m repeating myself here, but it was another fantastic meal that ticked all the boxes. We had to go for a walk afterwards just to let it all settle.
