When we write about places like Claridges, the Connaught and even the Bingham Hotel in Richmond, readers could be forgiven for thinking that we only frequent the well-to-do areas of London. Only mix with the upper crust! Well, you would not be far wrong. The thing is though, it just sort of works out that way … honest! We don’t seek these places out! After our sojourn the other day to the Tide Tables Cafe in wealthy Richmond, today we find ourselves in the Kings Road in Chelsea. Home of Sloane Rangers and Hooray Henrys, but not by choice … we are here on an important errand to fix an incapacitated handbag. It just so happens that the Handbag Clinic is here on the Kings Road. Yes, they do have clinics for handbags, however, the less you know about that the better.
Supercars
Famous for its Chelsea buns, the important thing was to check out a Chelsea scone and fill that gap in our collective sconological knowledge base. This part of London offers you the opportunity to pay ten times what you would pay anywhere else on just about anything. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration … but only slight. The streets are lined with super cars … McLarens, Ferraris, Maseratis. The sort of cars that, if we were to sell our house and our children, we would still not be able to afford. Sorry kids if you are reading this, it is just a turn of phrase, it does not mean that you are not worth much. It just means that if you were worth more we might get a supercar … okay!!
It’s ironic that these cars, capable of 200mph, would throw a major party if, by some miracle, they ever got to reach 30mph in London. For most of them, that’s a rather forlorn ambition. Some of them are painted matt black like stealth bombers. Initially we thought this might be to make them invisible to traffic wardens. However then we remembered that the owners of these cars would not be the slightest bit bothered with a hundred parking tickets. So, in a way, the paint finish doesn’t matter … except to look a bit pretentious, of course, and make it difficult for the butler to polish. Golly gosh, what a laugh that would be!
The holy hour
Okay, for those of you thinking that finding a scone in such surroundings should be a piece of cake … not so! It was after 2pm but everywhere we went we were refused. Scones only served between three and five … what? We knew the world had gone mad but this surely is the last straw!
However, there is something oddly right about this. Any other food item you could have any old time of the day but scones, as befits their status of course, only in this blessed two hour window. The conversation goes something like this: Me “may I have a scone please?” Waiter “Is it three o’clock, sir?” Me: “no, it’s half past two”. Waiter: “Yes sir you may have a scone but you will have to wait half an hour.” 
Absolutely no use to us though because we had yet another even more important errand than rescuing an ailing handbag to run. We simply could not hang around until the holy hour when scones would appear, presumably, as if by magic.
Now, readers should know by now that we are not ones for giving up. However, just as we were about to do just that, we stumbled on the John Forrest Bakery. It had scones that could be bought any time of the day or night, yeagh! It wasn’t ideal though … no seats inside and the few they had outside were all taken.
Not to worry, they provided us with two teas in polystyrene cups, a ham & cheese roll … and a scone in a white paper bag … all for £5.10. We take back our previous comment about everything being ludicrously expensive. We then slunk off up a nearby alleyway looking for somewhere to sit and eat. 
Fortunately it led to an enclosed area surrounded by rather utilitarian looking apartment blocks. The hidden side of Chelsea where real people live. In the middle was a kiddie’s play park with a couple of wooden benches. And we had it all to ourselves. It was wonderfully quiet after the hustle and bustle going on only a few yards away.
Trials and tribulations
The scone, which the John Forrest folks had kindly buttered for us had loads of fruit but it wasn’t the best by a long chalk. At least it served to illustrate the trials and tribulations we endure in order to bring our sconey readers news from the UK’s nether regions. Actually, as we sat there on our park bench with our strong tea and very fruity scone, we did not feel trialed or tribulated at all. We did, in fact, feel rather blessed with the whole experience. Without it we would never have discovered this quiet little sanctuary.
Sanctuary is what Theresa May needs as forces range against her from all sides. And she demands that the EU treats the UK with respect. She wants respect from the club we are leaving presumably because we think it’s crap! In the circumstances, we think the EU has been extremely respectful. Meanwhile, no one in government has a clue what is going on. The opposition is worse than useless. As a result the entire country is paralysed in a kind of collective nervous breakdown. What fun!
Picture this
If we had to choose a picture to depict Britain’s current s
tate of mental health there would be only one contender, Edvard Munch’s, The Scream. Even inanimate objects are having issues because the Handbag Clinic was doing a roaring trade. However, what will Brexit mean for handbag clinics?
SW10 0LR tel: 020 7352 5848 John Forrest Bakery FB
ps: we did see a couple of K2 telephone boxes but were unable to photograph them.
There was no cream with our scones and initially there was no jam either but it turned up eventually. It was branded as ‘British’ like almost everything in M&S these days. Even the haggis and the whisky are emblazoned with the union jacks! It’s as if there is a panic in central government that Scottish independence is looming large yet again and nothing can be labeled ‘Scottish’ in case it further emboldens the natives. Frightened of losing their cash cow, it does of course have the opposite effect.
