Posh lollies, chocolate mice, acid drops, midget gems

Pie and I decided to go to the One O'Clock Club at Hampstead Heath today. It's a wonderful free-form resource provided by the City of London somewhere down the south edge of the Heath, near the prison-like Lido. I am grateful to the friend who recommended it to me ("many clubs are awful" she said "but this one is excellent").

To be basic about it, it is a sort of big shed or barn (with windows and heating) with lots of well-loved toys and areas for children to play. Pie is at the still blissful stage of being a lowly bum-shuffler and that relegates us to the Baby Corner where other 'non-walkers' and their parents/nannies ('pannies'?) loll around on beanbags and foam mats. Mr Pie spent a long time gripping the gate of the Baby Corner, uttering low bellows and attempting to insert his head between the bars. This seemed like superb entertainment to him.

On the way back the devil, on special lentish duty, tempted me and we got out at West Hampstead instead of Kilburn High Road. We'd been on the Overland, you see, letting the train take the strain. Opposite the station is a tiny shop, more of a serving hatch really, called Beatties Sweeties. I purchased 50 grams of chewy beer bottles (like 'cola bottles' but revolting: taste of beer swept off the brewery floor) and 50 grams of black'n'reds (significantly better but a curious 'two stage' sweet - get rid of the tiny sugar pellets before attaining the gummy core). All for £1.20. I admit my choices this time were off... it felt like a penance to eat them. But I like sweets. My poor molars are a testament to that.