The lost world – Journey to the West End.

I was halfway to Waterloo on the train when I got the email, ‘Sorry Rob, something’s come up and I’ll have to take a rain check on lunch today.’ It was intensely annoying, firstly because this chap isn’t American at all, in fact I think he’s from Esher. Secondly, this was the second time he’d done it, and I’d been really looking forward to finding out how Soho was opening up now full lockdown was over. Still somewhat miffed I was about to send a cancellation email when I suddenly thought sod it, I’ll go anyway and then just the restaurant know I’d be dinning solo.

My plan had been to meet my soon to be erstwhile client at the Union in Greek street, a small dining club I’m a member of, and it seemed sensible to stick to this. Arriving in Soho I was immediately struck by how quiet everything seemed. The amount of people on the pavements seemed to be less than a third of what you’d normally expect at that time on a weekday.

Some restaurants and bars were open, but many remained resolutely closed. Lots of windows were covered with chipboard making it look like the city had just emerged from a lightly populated but strangely destructive riot…which perhaps it has.

The Union club however is open, and the welcome was not just warm but verging on effusive. Upon hearing that my companion had cancelled and that I’d decided to bimble along anyway to support their business I don’t think they could have been anymore welcoming if they’d invited me to marry into their family and changed their wills in my favour.

To say that the Union’s dining room is decorated eclectically is like saying Beyonce sings a bit. To me it looks a bit like how a mad lottery winner would do a room up if he decided to buy up everything on sale at a Bargain Hunt auction. I love it.

The lunch menu remains simple with about 5 choices of snacks, starters, and main courses, with another 5 union classics…a mixture of both smaller dishes and mains. Being greedy but parsimonious I had some olives as a make do starter, followed by parmesan encrusted lamb chops served with rocket and pepperonata. To this I added a side order of runner beans and some sparkling mineral water (no client no booze unfortunately.)

Well it was all delicious, each chop tasting a bit like a mini schnitzel contrasting nicely with the tanginess off the peppers. Even the runner beans had more character than you’d expect from such a blameless vegetable, and it was with regret that my plate seemed to be clearing itself rapidly.

Just 40 minutes after I had walked in, I was walking back out and beginning the trudge back to my office in Southwark. Well it was rather heart breaking to be honest, only about 50% of cafes and bars were open, and many that were trading were having a thin time of it. The distinctive black liveried Nicholson’s pubs that seem dominate the area (the Cambridge, the Porcupine et al) were all closed. Some famous places were open, but like Gordon’s wine bar had such unfriendly signs outside you were likely to think better of it.

The worst of it all though was the site of the closed theatres, shuttered now for who knows how long. With their (hopefully temporary) absence you suddenly realise how much they are the heart of the West End and it is like the beat has stopped.

Walking back, it was somewhat a relief to get back south of the river. Not glamorous, not great but at least more things were open, and it has had less far to fall.

I will be going back to the West End, hopefully my meagre wallet will help it recover but I know now in my heart of hearts that this crisis won’t be truly over until on stages up and down Shaftsbury avenue the curtains go up on shows and down on one of the bleakest times in modern history.