So What Is The Best Club?

 

Whoa, tricky question because they're all good in their different ways. For sheer apex predator awesome it has to be White's. If you're a Prime Minister or own half the planet you may be invited to join. I'm not a member, oddly, and that's curious, because I am the Commandant of an irregular troop of light horse, the DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry). Huh.

Boodles

White's being shut to us, we move down St. James by a few hundred yards and land at Boodles. What a beautiful and comfortable Club! Winston Churchill used to sit in its storied bay window and watch passers by. I love that place and used to sit in its famous window, imagining Churchill's shade, but haven't been there in many years; I always think of the smell of coal fires when I remember it. It has, by the way, an amazing 18thC dining room and outstanding wine, obvs.

Carlton

So, walk across the road and what d'ye see? Brooks. I know nothing of Brooks. Keep walking and lo and behold, the Carlton Club. I used to enjoy that place in the '90s, when you could smoke in its Smoking Room and everything was cool and cashless. Just sign a chit, sorta thing. Haven't been there in ages. Still, you know it's good, there was a weighing machine next to the member's dining room. Perhaps there still is.

EIC

Next up. Carlton Club reverie over, stride forth into St. James Square, and what do you find? A veritable cornucopia of Clubs. The East India ain't shabby and offers a great Sunday lunch; order salmon and roast beef from the trolley if you're smart, and you won't be disappointed. 

In & Out

Replete, walk across the way to the Naval & Military (In & Out) to enjoy well-priced cocktails before heading over to the Reform Club on Pall Mall (not open on weekends apart from accommodation and an excellent breakfast). Excelsior. Of course there's others on that strip, notably the Travelers (Trav) and the Athenaeum, which I strangely haven't been to, all in good time. 

Speaking of which, there used to be place called the United Services Club, opposite the Athenaeum, which apparently set the officers mess tenor of Clubland. It's now something awful, the Institute of Directors, where people have business lunches and learn how to do Powerpoint when not checking the market on their phones. It is not a club, sadly, so don't be fooled.

NLC Bar

Pall Mall and Waterloo Place aside, you might want to keep walking towards Trafalgar Square, only to end up at the jolly old NatLib. Yes, the National Liberal Club, founded by Gladstone and still very much alive today. I like it for its exceptionally high ceilings and spectacular terrace overlooking the Embankment and its gardens. Most congenial and hardly snobby at all.

I love the Reform Club

Now, dear readers, all five of you, there are many more clubs and they're all awesome, but this quick shoot-out's based on the ones I mostly visit, apart from White's, and these days Boodles and the Carlton. My favorite? 

Unfair question because they're all most excellent, but I love the East India for Sunday lunch, the Reform for all 'round greatness, not least garden and architecture, the In & Out for a great courtyard where and for being in "Nancy Astor's place," not shabby, and the NatLib because rough and ready Gladstonian greatness, and you can smoke, eat and drink on its enormous terrace. So, each one is best in its particular way and what you want it for. Overall? I vote the Reform as the best on this list, but that's just me, I like them all.

So there you have it.

Clubland Forever,

LSP

Out & About - An Update

 

Where exactly? You ask in that exasperated kind of way. Well I'll spare you the detail but I've been in the UK, in London, in the beating heart of what was once the greatest empire in the world. Alas no longer, but the place's architecture reflects its glorious past.

Speaking of which, many of the city's Clubs still remain and I love them all, each good in their various way. That said, I enjoy the Reform on Pall Mall, utterly congenial, and if you stay there you get breakfast in the Coffee Room (Dining Room), which ain't shabby. 

So week one was all about setting up in Pall Mall and entertaining old friends in pleasant surroundings. Week two began with Sung Mass at St. Peter's London Docks, which is thriving, followed by outstanding beef from the trolley at the East India Club on St. James Square. Man, I tell you, their Sunday beef is exceptional, try it out if you get the chanace.

Then, the following day, ride the rails to Cheltenham and behold the slightly faded splendour of this beautiful spa town which used to be your home back in the mists of time. Still lovely, no doubt about it, but somehow more shabby. A friend who lives there agreed, "It's because they don't clean the streets and there's far more louts." He had a point.

Cheltenham over, drift back to London and a few nights in Soho followed by a weekend at the Reform and Sunday Mass at the Brompton Oratory. I love the Oratory and you might too. Oriented Latin Novus Ordo, recording quality music and the place is packed, there must've been well over a thousand souls at the Solemn High on Sunday.

Next step. Stroll down Knightsbridge with one of your sisters for yet another perfect Sunday lunch at the East India, followed by tea at the In & Out. Hey, if it's not broke, don't fix it. And this week? Just taking it easy, striding about town and visiting old haunts and friends before flying back to the great state of Texas on Friday.

All this by way of update, analysis, ahem, to follow.

Cheers,

LSP

Well That Was Fun - Part Four

 

So there we were, in the beating heart of the Rainbow Caliphate which is the UK, but not so fast. This is Pall Mall and the Reform Club and I tell you, there wasn't an emissary of the tyrannous New World Order in sight in the Coffee Room, at least a breakfast. So there is that.

Seriously though, I value London's clubland because it stands like an island of civilization in a sea of something else, a holdout of Great Britain, perhaps. It's fun too and congenial, which doesn't go amiss. Still, movement is a sign of life says the Philosopher, so off we went to the next and final set up, an Airbnb just off Covent Garden, in New Row.

"Cabbie, that'll be New Row, please," and off we sped. It's not far, walking distance, but bags were involved and a cab made sense, and it's fun too, like a tour. Then all of a sudden there we were, in New Row, with its Tesco Express, coffee shops, pubs and restaurants, about two minutes from Covent Garden and two minutes from Charing Cross Road.

Memories for me, for sure, and what a pleasant apartment, you can gaze down on Sheeky's from its overwatch. You know, I always used to love the curio bookseller shops between St. Martin's Lane and Charing Cross Road, and I love them today. They're still kinda there.

Whatev, Friday morning came all too soon and off we went to Paddington, Heathrow and a hideously cramped flight. Next time? Fly into Edinburgh and do the trip in reverse, with more time at the awesome RSC. All this, of course, if the UK remains a flyable destination.

END

Well That Was Fun - Part Three

 

Get off the train from Ludlow to Euston and wonder at the redeveloped ugliness of the station. Aesthetic reverie over, walk those wheely suitcases through the madding crowd towards the taxi rank, "Look, my dear, Northerners, keep your wallet safe." We weren't pickpocketed in Euston, remarkably, and found a cab, there were lots, "Reform Club, cabbie." He was happy to oblige and there we were on Pall Mall in good order and all of that. Nice.

Climb up those storied stairs and check in to chambers with the club's polite, friendly, attentive, helpful front desk. Room 320 and off you go. Basic, yes, but civilized, and know this - the Reform has two floors of rooms, they call them chambers, each of which features a pantry, complete with fridge, ironing board, tea, coffee, and all of that. Helpful and pleasant. Word to the wise, you can leave your wine, cheese et al in the fridge for a week while you go adventuring and guess what? It's there when you return. I told you, civilized.

Later that evening I struck out for Chinatown and takeaway, striding with purpose down Waterloo Place, just off Pall Mall. A voice rang out in the night, "Fr. LSP!" Sure enough, it was an old friend, RW, "Lovely to see you! Just heading to Chinatown for food, staying at Reform." He announced that he'd just come from Chinatown and was heading to the Travelers Club (next to Reform).  And so we passed, like ships in the night, and I brought back a score of Chinese food to our room, tasty.

Wantons, spring rolls, chicken and all of that later I figured it was time to explore the club after hours. So off you go into the midst of the thing, and what a thing it is. Regardless, I ended up in the Atrium and, as I crossed the deserted marble tiled floor there was a sound, a faint sound of a woman singing, coming from the Atrium's upper level. 

The words were indistinct and the song ceased after maybe less than 30 seconds. Eerie, and I knew no one was upstairs because I'd scouted it out earlier, on my descent to the ground floor. Struck by this, I went to the porters and asked them if they'd heard anything similar. No, they hadn't, but perhaps they hadn't served for long at the club. More on this later.

Ghosts aside, we rallied for breakfast in the Coffee Room (dining room) the next day. I had a "full English breakfast,"  which involved Black Pudding and sausage, yum. Mrs. LSP went with the Eggs Benedict option and all was delicious. Then we fell back to the garden for coffee and cigarettes to recoup before Mass at the Brompton Oratory.  And what a garden.

gotta get back to the garden

There you are, in the heart of London,  in the midst of the Rainbow Caliphate itself, in an oasis of peace, calm and order. Beautiful. Next and final stop? An Airbnb just off Covent Garden and a flight home to the great state of Texas.

Cheers,

LSP

Reform Club

 

Reform Club. There is no need to leave. So I guess the Club Shootout's settled, more on this anon. In the meanwhile, let's see what tomorrow brings.

Your Friend,

LSP

Cars & Clubs

 

You see, on the one hand there's cars. V6 racing suspension and all of that. Some love it, even here at the Compound. Then, on the other hand, there's Clubs. Have a look:

Are these two things opposed? Hardly, go together like guns and guitars. At least that's what I think and I'm sticking to it.

Your Ancient Pal,

LSP

PS. Let's see DNI theater turn to hands behind bars, please, not that anyone's holding their breath.

STORM FRONT

 

No, not the ancient skinhead movement in what used to be Great Britain, but a literal storm in North Central Texas. Seriously, it woke me up in the middle of the night as rain lashed against the wooden frame of the Compound, while thunder rolled and lightning arced down from heaven.

Exciting. Yet again, the climate had changed, which prompted me to venture out onto the back deck and behold the fury of our Ancient Adversary, the Weather. It was ferocious, no doubt angered by a tragic decrease in funding from USAID and the EPA. Or perhaps it was elemental rage at Tulsi becoming DNI Suprematrix? 

Possibly so. We do, says the Good Book, fight against "powers of the air." Not unlike, when you think on it, Britain during the Blitz. In related news, I feel it's important to join this club. It's called REFORM, and sits on Pall Mall in Whigish splendour. Call it, if you will, a long march through the institutions.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Blind Faith

 

I've always loved this, perhaps you have too. Be careful out there, kids, like no fooling. Speaking of which, please do avoid the appalling STAFFORD hotel off St. James. It was awesome and we loved it, now we don't, it's utterly rubbish.

Reform Forever,

LSP