Three – South East London Meetup Group

‘I used to come here almost every week’ said Alex, our event host.  We were at a Nigerian restaurant called Tommi’s Kitchen, in Deptford, South East London.  It was less of a restaurant, more of a canteen. ‘This was a couple of years ago when I was with my Nigerian girlfriend’ Alex explained.  ‘It’s great!  I love this place’, he enthused, ‘but I haven’t been going as regularly as I used to.  I’ve been once or twice this year’.

There were eight of us.  In addition to myself and Alex, there was Zara from Catford, German Uta from Bermondsey, Ola and Kevin who have travelled from an area called Sydenham, Cara who I didn’t really an opportunity to chat to, and Sally, who lived just around the corner.

‘Have you ever tried one of those giant African snails, Alex?’ asked Kevin.

‘Some people keep them as pets!’ Sally interjected, which started a surreal discussion about the pros and cons of snails as a domestic animals.

Alex talked us through the menu, asking us whether we wanted to have some beef, or chicken, and whether we fancied one of the dishes that was made from melon seeds.  ‘You can have rice, or you can have the pounded yam…’ he said confidently.  ‘The stews are great – I really recommend the stews. They are pretty spicy – do you like hot food?’  Alex was doing a fabulous job, helping everyone to feel comfortable.

Alex worked in a city accounting firm.  He retrained as an accountant after studying to be a classical musician at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester.  He’s been the main organiser of the South East London meetup group for about three years, running a variety of social events, ranging from watching the London marathon through to bowling and bingo nights.  He enjoys the meals the most, which are usually held in interesting and unusual restaurants that you would only know about through word of mouth.

Tommi’s Kitchen is situated in a converted pub on Deptford high street.  The entrance is through a huge door that would have once taken you into a saloon bar.  Rather than being presented with a bar, you came face to face with catering equipment that wouldn’t look out of place in a fish and chip shop.  A cavernous seating area could found by going through an unobtrusive side door where you would find a modern bar, a flat screen TV that was showing football and an array of different tables.  Colourful prints were hanging on the walls, taking advantage of the high ceilings.

Within twenty minutes, preposterous portions of food started to arrive.  Pounded yam, spinach, spicy jollof rice, plantain, fried chicken, portions of fried fish, stews, a whole fish.  An astonishing array of food, all washed down with bottles of Nigerian Guinness, which is sweeter and substantially stronger than its Irish equivalent.

After the meal, there was talk of going to a pub; Sally was keen to share some of her local knowledge with us.  She feigned disappointment when I said that I had to be up early tomorrow for a work engagement.  ‘Come on!  Be a man!’ she joked, ‘come to the pub!’  Since I wasn’t keen on having my masculinity derided (and had my new ‘bitter end’ rule to follow), I decided to tag along.

Sally was a northerner, originally from Sheffield.  She emigrated to Deptford decades ago to teach English at a further education college, and had retired a couple of years ago.  She took the lead, marching us towards a mystery destination.  A couple of doors down from Tommi’s Kitchen, we heard voices from a shop that was packed with people.  I stood outside for a moment, and then motioned for the others to follow: we had discovered an art gallery that seemed to be hosting an exhibition.  

‘We were just passing and we saw that you were open’, I said to the gallery manager.  The Deptford gallery was apparently a network of South London galleries that collaborate together, and they sometimes run evening events to showcase the work of different local artists: a new London discovery.  We ambled around the gallery, looking at the exhibits, chatting to each other.

Fifteen minutes later we were on the high street again. Sally pointed towards a side street.  ‘Those are Georgian’ she said. ‘I’ve heard that some of them still have original features, like, in the top levels they have wood panelling which have come from old ships’, alluding to Deptford’s historic naval heritage. ‘Some of the really old houses even have tunnels that go directly to the Thames’.  Smugglers were mentioned.  I’m not sure whether I believed any of it, but I wanted to believe it all.

After crossing a couple of roads and passing by a complex mix of different buildings; blocks of flats built in the 50’s and tiny modern terraces, we arrived at our final destination: a Victorian pub.