A QUIET RETREAT

Evening Post, Volume CXXII, Issue 70, 19 September 1936, Page 7

A QUIET RETREAT

VILLAGE IN LONDON • HOMELY OLD INN AN ELIZABETHAN CHARTER (From "The Post's" Representative.) LONDON, August, 26. Tucked, away' from the jangling traffic of London's crowded streets are to be found many of,the ancient city's brightest gems of antiquity. A sharp turn down a side road or the merest alley .will bring, you to a veritable oasis of quietness and peace where pigeons and sparrows scold tho footsteps of the, solitary passerby: or the lonely motor-car. There are many such haunts known to the Londoner and to the New Zealand visitor, but there is one not sp well known probably because it is. a.little further afield and dwarfed into comparative insignificance by the stately magnificence of the neighbouring Kew Gardens and Hampton Court. It is Strand-on-the-Green, one time the haunt of Oliver Cromwell, who used to put up at "The Boar's Head" when he wished to avoid the~ unwelcome attentions of would-be assassms.. Opposite, in _ the Thames, is a diminutive island known to this day as Cromwell's, Island. Now it performs the office of a swannery. Strand-on-the-Green, within a quarter of an hour of Waterloo, is a village. It has two distinctions; it possesses no green,, where budding, amateur cricketers may, or may not, be found, and it has no oldest inhabitant. Although it has a row , of. cottages where the poor may be accommodated "for ever" it is really very select and expensive. Recently Sir John Simon's daughter, occupied the house formerly Owned by the famous artist Zoffany, brought to England by Marie Theresa when she lived at Kew Palace. It is offered for sale at £4500.

As / is usual in village life, however, the inns are the social centres. ■ "The Boar's Head" is one. The'other is "The City Barge."

AN ANCIENT CHARTER. There is character in every crooked line of "The City Barge." There is history, too, as the' portly, jovial innkeeper will'tell you as he takes you up the precipitous staircases where one false step means a rapid and decidedly uncomfortable descent. Its, charter was granted by Queen Elizabeth—but there is no suggestion or claim that sh,e ever slept there! During her reign Royal architects-made a tour of inspection (probably as members of a commission!) and any buildings they found that complied with-their specifications were granted a charter for 500 years from the time of their erection. "The City Barge" did comply with the. Elizabethan rules and regulations, and in 1984 it should still be going strong! Today, the innkeeper will tell you. it is 452 years old and its charter has another 48 years to run. It has low ceilings, heavy oak beams and planks, some two feet broad, and there is no plaster or whitewash you can see the blood-red bricks uneven and irregularly laid. The bulges in the walls might make the average slick bricklayer of today shudder, but-the solid Tudor mortar has clasped them together these 450 years, and although the foundations . have sunk ,in different-directions, so that some of the bedroom floors slant at an alarming angle; they still stand solid and compact As to the foundations there are nbne—at least as far as modern fpundations go. The walls are built upon slabs of elm; which,'despite the proximity of the-river, have done, their work well during the centuries. ■ ■ ./'-..

OLD MULLING POT.

The bar is small, but efficient, with an old, irugged fireplace so commodious that by stooping and placing, your head inside on a .summer's day you can see the straight chimney and the blue sky. peeping , through the pot above. On.the shelf over the iron grating stands a copper instrument for all the world like a huge candle snuffer. It is a mulling pot, and during the long winter evenings many a pint "of the best" is slipped irito it before it is plunged into the hot cinders. In the darkened corner an old clock, with a gigantic leaden weight, hangs upon the wall. Its age cannot be accurately estimated, but at least it dates back to 1760, for it was during that year that a tax was imposed upon all clocks and watches with the exception of clocks standing i in 'a" public place without glass dials. This clock at "The City Barge" has a wooden face. It is a ruddy brown in colour and the figures are almost obliterated. One of the inhabitants of the inn is a four-year-old cat, a very modern cat as cats go. She takes her recreation daily which, believe it or not, is to do her own fishing. '■ Every evening at dusk "she slips down to the river edge, but not unobserved, for she has her "public." She wades into the water and is shortly swimming in search of mallard. There is no photographic record of this swimming cat, for, as already noted, she takes her exercise at dusk, but she has given a "sitting" as she takes a meal, during which, apparently, she is not altogether un-self-conscious, for she has a habit of eating the unfortunate mallard from the tail towards the head. s

The best time to visit' "The City Barge" is during the weekend, from Friday night .to Sunday night—for licensing laws in England differ from those'in New Zealand, and doors are not closed until 10 p.m., and, in some cases, 11 p.m. Its small rooms and the courtyard outside are packed during summer weather. More than: likely somebody will be at the piano and it is as likely as not that you will hear refrains from "Madame Butterfly," Pagliacci, s and "Hiawatha" float out across the Thames. Mr. A. P. Herbert, M.P., the well-known humorist, has a soft spot in his heart for "The City Barge," and scarcely a month goes by without his paying a call. "The City Barge," 'incidentally, derives its name from the barge formerly used by the Lord Mayors of London, who travelled the river N a great deal .in years gone by. It is claimed that there is no other inn of the same name in the United Kingdom, which is something of a distinction. A DISTINCTIVE CHARM.

There is a distinctive charm about Strand-on-the-Green, so near to London in distance but so far away from the modern city in time. It straggles practically all the way from Kew Bridge to Chiswick, and might well be in the heart of the country. At full tide swans float lazily near the banks, and the only disturbance is the rumbling of electric trains travelling to and from the city over a steel bridge which is positively quite young, since it was built as recently as 1855. The village probably presents its most enchanting appearance on a full moonlight night. Then the harsh lines of the barges, pulled up nearby for repairs, are softened and the old cottages and nouses assume a more confidential and intimate air than when the bright sunlight. exposes the work of the weather.

In the spring wistaria hangs in billows over doorways, and in late summer there is a profusion of hollyhocks in a typical country garden behind "The Ship," formerly an inn, but relieved of its licence before the war on the score of redundancy. It is a spot where the imagination may be allowed to wander back to the days when