"Italian Chicken Stew with Dumplings - £3.50"!

I am by nature a pessimist. My glass is always half empty rather than half full. My answer, when people (usually my wife) exhort me to think positively or look on the bright side, is that if I anticipate the worst then I cannot be disappointed. Whereas, I argue, the optimist must be constantly dissatisfied for the world cannot always deliver his high expectations! It goes further. For as long as I can remember, and because I am a pessimist, I have always anticipated the worst case scenario and as a result am a “mega planner”. Whatever venture I am involved with I plan it to the nth degree to try to eliminate whatever can go wrong. Unfortunately, despite one’s best efforts, things still go wrong – the technical term for this, I think, is Sod’s Law. Fortunately, however, when things go wrong – and despite one’s prior anxieties and subsequent planning – it does occasionally happen that it all works out well in the end. And when that happens the whole can be both enjoyable, memorable and, in certain situations, restore one’s faith in the world and in human nature. That was true on Saturday night.

St Mary's

Let me explain.

On Saturday Pat and I had tickets to attend a concert in Nottingham – at the wonderful St Mary’s Church in the Lace Market. St Mary’s is a magnificent building and as we were reminded in the pre-concert  introductory talk is the oldest medieval building in the city. The Lace Market is an old area of the city – right in the very centre - where once the lace industry which was instrumental in making Nottingham famous and upon which much of the city’s historical wealth was based. Indeed, when we first came to live in Nottingham almost half a century ago it was often commented that Nottingham was the best place in all England to go to find a wife – there were so many young women, it was said  that they allegedly outnumbered the men 2:1! They were the prettiest women in England so the local folklore had it – and they were there because of the size and importance of the lace industry – they worked in the industry making the finest lace in the kingdom.

Some of the magnificent buildings of the Lace Market

Those times are long gone; although there are still a few lace companies left the vast majority of this small, compact area of the city, with its narrow winding streets and tall impressive  buildings has been converted into night clubs, swish restaurants and bars, exclusive penthouse apartments  and the like. And, as the historic courthouse of Nottingham is on the edge of the Lace Market there is a fair sprinkling of legal chambers, all sporting splendid nameplates displaying the names of the lawyers and barristers who reside there – all very stylish. Despite the fact that it is right in the middle of a major city with its busy pavements, mobile phone shops, big department stores and burger bars little or no traffic goes through the streets of the Lace Market – it is a quiet haven - making it a shady and peaceful place even on the busiest day. It is a protected heritage site and is a trendy and atmospheric place to visit – and, I would think, good to live in. Whenever we walk through the Lace Market I wonder – day dream – about how exciting it must be to live in a small rooftop apartment looking out over the city! And right in the middle of this tranquil spot stands St Mary’s – very much the centre of the whole area and looking out, as it has done since the times of Robin Hood, from its hilltop perch over the whole of Nottingham.

The quiet, atmospheric streets of the area

So I was looking forward to my concert. We would see a top class chamber ensemble the London Concertante and we would hear the glorious music of my favourite composer – Bach - his two great violin concerti, a violin and oboe concerto and two pieces by Mozart and Albinoni.

But, being me, we had to plan this adventure! Nothing could be left to chance that might spoil the evening – for my pessimistic view of the world dictates that if something is going to go wrong it will.  First, as we knew that trying to park in town is always difficult on Saturday evening, and we didn’t want to be late for the concert, we decided to go in very early and have a meal in town – then, we reasoned, we could be in good time for the concert which began at 7.30 pm. Secondly, I noticed that the local football team, Nottingham Forest, were playing at home and the game would be finishing just as we were going into town. So, to miss the long queues of football traffic we went a circuitous route  to get to the Lace Market. Thirdly – where should we eat? We knew that the busy shopping areas of Nottingham would be full of shoppers, but, I argued, if we go in early we will be able to get a meal in small pub that we know opposite St Mary’s – the Kean’s Head. At that time, I knew, it would be quiet, the Lace Market district would be its usual peaceful self. We could enjoy a leisurely meal and a quiet drink. Nothing could go wrong!

A quiet night at the Kean's Head - not at all like when
we visited!

The first part of the plan went perfectly, we missed the football traffic and arrived at the car park on the edge of the Lace Market at 5.30 – plenty of time for a meal. We soon parked the car, so second phase of the plan completed.............but then disaster!

This was  where the master plan began to unravel! You see, we know from past experience that at the end of a concert everyone rushes out of the concert venue at once and goes to the car parks – the result, everyone is queuing to pay their car park fee. So we had decided to pay for our ticket in advance – a service offered by Nottingham’s city centre car parks. We found the ticket machine, followed the instructions, pressed the right buttons, put in the right money.......and out came our ticket. But, to our horror, instead of giving us an evening’s parking till about 10.30 pm it gave us only two hours – no use at all! We couldn’t simply get another ticket for we had already parked our car and the tickets are dispensed automatically as you drive through the entrance barrier. Feverishly we looked for an office with a car park attendant to solve our problem but it was deserted, the car park was  fully automated. We walked around the various floors searching for an assistant and in an increasing state of panic! I at last decided that the only thing to do was to drive out of the car park and thus use our 2 hour ticket and then re-enter and go through the whole process again when suddenly we spied a tiny voice box to speak into and gain assistance. I pressed the button and a voice on the other end asked what our problem was. I explained, and the guy on the other end wearily told us (I could tell in his voice that he judged us to be total idiots) that we could reinsert our ticket into the machine and we would be allowed  to buy “extra time”. Holding our breath we followed his instructions...........Bingo!.... it worked, and the screen on the cash machine told us (although my natural pessimism refused to believe it) that our ticket was now paid in advance till 10.30 pm.

Hogarth painted this three centuries ago - or was he in
Nottingham on a Saturday night!

This whole episode had taken about 25 minutes so we were now a little late – but not to worry, there was plenty of time, we could soon grab a meal and then walk across the road to the church. We walked through the Lace Market’s darkening, silent and deserted streets and arrived at the Kean’s Head with the silhouette of St Mary’s rising into the night sky on the other side of the street. We pushed open the door........and were met with a wall of sound of which the 1960s American record producer Phil Spector, famed for his wall of sound effect, would have been proud. The place was packed, not a table to be seen, huge numbers of people squeezed near the bar, loud laughter and much consuming of vast quantities of alcohol. We looked around us bewildered. It was manifestly clear that we would not get a quick meal here and we certainly would not find a seat. Could all these people be going to our Bach concert I wondered – I didn’t think so and quite frankly I hoped not! The whole scene was reminiscent of one of Hogarth’s famous depictions of 18^th century gin palaces!

Yep! - another Hogarth - and definitely like the
places we looked into as we tried to get a meal!

But, we were not worried – there were plenty of other eating places.......or so we thought. We wandered through the quiet Lace Market streets and at each hostelry, to our horror, found more of the same – vast numbers of people all of whom looked as if they had been there since early morning and were intent on staying there until the next morning. Tables and bars crowded - the whole of Nottingham it seemed was in celebration mode and celebrating in the Lace Market! The couple of restaurants we managed to squeeze into were no better “Do you have a table?” we asked – the waitresses shook her heads sadly – it was almost like a modern version of the Christmas story.  I know now how Mary & Joseph felt when there was no room at the inn! And so we trawled through the streets, our hearts occasionally rising but only to be dashed when we entered some promising looking establishment – each one even fuller and noisier, it seemed, than the last! By now it was 6.30 and we were getting cold. Perhaps we should go into the city centre and find a MacDonald’s or buy a sandwich from the  little supermarket on the edge of the Lace Market. But time was fast running out. Perhaps we should just go to the church and forget about food . Pat was becoming desperate through cold and lack of food, I was becoming frustrated and pessimistic, wanting to vent my spleen upon all those who filled the pubs so noisily and prevented me having my meal!

Nottingham Contemporary - a place of warmth,
food and sanctuary!

Just as we were at the lowest ebb we passed the Nottingham Contemporary – a modern and new art gallery and arts centre on the edge of the Lace Market. Pat suddenly remembered that they had a small cafe downstairs – she had once had coffee there. Maybe we could get a warm cup of tea and a cake. “Any port in a storm”, sprung to mind. We entered through the glass doors and saw that the cafe, deep in the bowels of the place, was still open. By this time I had no optimism left – pessimism ruled, and I suspect even Pat, who is by nature an optimist,  was being sorely tried. The small cafe was almost empty – but they were serving drinks. A group – which we subsequently discovered were an ageing punk group called "Gaffa" - were setting up their instruments in the corner ready for a show later that evening. We stood and looked at the menu -  a cup of tea, a cake, a sandwich........... seemed to be on offer. Then we noticed just one hot dish – “Italian chicken stew with dumplings” - £3.50. “Are you still serving it?” we asked. They were!

Ah! civilization!- the cafe where we ate our stew

We sat at one of the small table surrounded by ageing punk rockers and huge speakers and miles of cabling as the band set up their stage. We had no real hopes – for £3.50 the dish would not be much, we argued, hardly a feast. But the cup of tea was excellent and the stew might just warm us up and keep us going until we got home after the concert. But then it arrived – a smiling, gentle and polite young waiter sporting an assortment of punk style chains down his jeans and around his legs presented us each with a splendid bowl of thick, hot, home made stew – filled with vegetables, chicken, dumplings and a delicious sauce. Just what the doctor ordered! We both tucked into our meal with relish – it really was the food of the gods! No meal in the poshest of hotels had ever tasted better. Savouring every mouthful we ploughed through it and pushed the boat out by enjoying a slice of cake and cheese and biscuits – and all for less than £15.00 for the two of us!

"Gaffa" - Nottingham's ageing rock group

We had had an excellent meal in a super atmosphere – definitely one that will long remain in our memory. The punk rockers, to our amazement, were all rather  genteel, middle aged men, reserved and quietly spoken, not my image of a punk rocker at all and  I almost felt tempted to stay and listen to them as they started to tune up their instruments!  But, no, Bach called and by now it was 7 o'clock. We wrapped our coats around us and made our way across the street to St Mary’s.

And what a concert – wonderful. The church was full, the music glorious, the ensemble perfect. Bach played how it is meant to be played – by a small group in an intimate atmosphere. The music wafted over me played by musicians who not only had a huge talent but a great love for what they were playing. As I sat listening and we wondered around during the interval I reflected that the church had stood for centuries in the middle of the Lace Market – thousand, perhaps millions, had over those centuries come as we had come to enjoy music or to worship.

London Concertante

On the walls were ancient tablets recording past citizens and benefactors who had made  their fortunes in the lace industry. There were ancient brasses of medieval knights and we remembered how once, many years ago, when our children were small we took them one sunny afternoon in the school holidays to St Mary’s to do some brass rubbing.  And, as I sat down again to enjoy the second half of the concert, I thought about all the thousands who were still sitting in those noisy pubs just across the street, about the punk rockers and about the clubbers who would be arriving at their venues. The church was an island, a place of sanctuary - as perhaps it often was in the troubled middle ages - and today a haven, a quiet place of worship and  musical beauty, insulated from the loud outside world. A far cry from the Hogarthian scenes just a few yards away. It was a very special evening.

Girls "clubbing" at one of the Lace Market night clubs -
they should all be wearing vests my wife advises.

And then it was over. We stepped outside into the cold night air. We passed the Kean’s Head - still packed with revellers, we passed brightly lit nightclubs their doors guarded by grim, shaven headed  bouncers and security guards. Through the open doors of the clubs  we glimpsed throngs of young men and women; girls hurrying through the streets to the night clubs all dressed (although maybe that is an exaggeration!) in tiny short dresses leaving nothing to the imagination, tottering on very high heels and drinking and shouting above the pulsating music. As we hurried along Pat mumbled something about those girls needing to wear a vest! And then it was back to the car park.  At the entrance a huge queue stood, all waiting to pay their parking fees – surely they couldn’t all be from the concert? But no, they wore brightly coloured shirts and we realised that they were all ice hockey supporters who had just left the ice stadium which is just on the opposite side of the Lace Market - they had been watching Nottingham Panthers. With a superior air we marched past them  with our advance payment parking ticket (forward planning is such a good thing!) and jumped into our car, started the engine and switched on the heater. But, as we crawled to the car park gate both of us had a slight anxiety.........would the car park ticket with which we had had such problems actually work, or would we be stuck at the gate unable to leave. Both of us breathed a sigh of relief when the barrier rose and we emerged and took the road home!

London Concertante

And as we drove home I was reminded of Gladstone’s famous one liner: “What we anticipate seldom occurs: but what we least expect generally happens”. Gladstone must, like me, been a bit of a pessimist but perhaps like me he would also have said that being a pessimist has its benefits because you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised. That was certainly true on Saturday night! I have already written down the dates for the next concerts given by the London Concertante at St Mary’s. Maybe next time, in September or December when the Concertante next visit, we’ll go straight to Nottingham Contemporary for another bowl of the Italian chicken stew and dumplings before listening to Bach! Or maybe even next Saturday we'll have a night out at the Nottingham Contemporary, enjoying the stew and listening the ageing punk rockers - now that would be a first - I feel that we rather owe the gallery and the rockers our future patronage for rescuing our night out!