retiredmartin

March 2026. Shepherds Bush. London.

From Balham, a trip across a foggy Thames to Shepherd Bush,

where I suddenly found I had nearly two hours to fill and Westfield in front of me.

Just like Charlene, I’d never been to Westfield W12’s flashy shopping centre, but if you’ve been to Stratford‘s version you won’t need to.

Folk who talk down this country or whine about the “death of the high street” have never seen the vibrancy of Westfield, or Sheffield’s Meadowhall, or Birmingham’s Grand Central. No boarded-up shops here.

Amongst all this upmarket shopping and dining, I choose a seat in Greggs. Something I noted in Covent Garden lately; you can get a good Americano in a smart (clean) Greggs for £1.80, 35p cheaper than in an A1 service station.

Being a food and drink matching expert, I choose the gooey Tottenham Cake, part of Gregg’s “secret menu” (honest, there is), a range of local delicacies for local people.

Tottenham fans need something to cheer them up in their relegation battle,

a battle also being waged a mile and a half south on the banks of the Thames at Craven Cottage, the cheers from which could be heard as if it was being played a street away from me at Loftus Road.