Dirt Cheap Dater

It was 2^nd of January and I had work the next day. I was tired and could feel the edges of anxiety gnawing at my consciousness. It was my own fault. I’d spent New Year getting drunk with friends for three days straight. I deserved to feel like this.

When Tim texted suggesting lunch in Brixton, I immediately agreed. Despite the hammering my bank balance took at New Year somehow I felt as if I needed this. We met up and walked over to Brixton market together. It was one o’clock and neither of us had been awake that long. We chatted idly about what we wanted to eat, too hungover to make any decisions. Arriving at the market we began to wander aimlessly through it. It wasn’t busy, the masses having not yet returned from their Christmas break. Small groups of  diners were huddled under outdoor heaters outside some of the cafes. Most of the shops are were still shut.

“Do we want dumplings?” I asked

“No.”

“Nachos?”

“No, I don’t like nachos”

“Some kind of crepe?”

“Oooh no not crepes”

“Sal-”

“No! It’s too cold”

“Okay! Okay!”

We hadn’t even been wandering for a minute and already I was feeling cold and incapable of making a decision. God I was hungover. Then I spotted Franca Manca’s. Yes. Pizza. I immediately walked over to it and slid into the wooden seats. As I scanned the menu I realised how cheap it was. £5.99 for a margherita pizza. Excellent. We ordered some tap water, the thought of any more alcohol made me want to throw up after my efforts at New Year. Then we chose our pizzas, a Gloucester Old Spot Ham and Ricotta, then something with olives and anchovies.

We waited. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes but it felt like an age. I had no chat and could think only of pizza. Finally they arrived. I took a bite. The ricotta was so creamy, it was like tasting a delicious cloud. I inhaled my half, swapping the rest  with Tim’s olivey concoction. His was salty and riddled with anchovies, not to my liking but obviously I ate it all.

Finally sated, a sort of calm descended. Our no-longer-famished minds slowly turned to what else we might do. Something cultural we thought. I remembered that the Black Cultural Archives were nearby so we walked over to Windrush Square, I was excited to finally learn about Brixton’s history. The gates were shut, but a nearby road worker insisted we keep pressing the buzzer. After a while an annoyed looking man came out of a door beyond the gates and suggested that a closed gate probably meant that they were closed. The road worker conveniently turned back to his work at this point. Feeling a bit foolish we started for home, briefly stopping at a coffee shop to replace culture with cake.

Damage

Pizzas x 2 £15.58

Cake x 2 £5

TOTAL: £20.58

Romance factor – decidedly average.

I never liked farmer’s markets. I thought they were for old people. Or couples with kids, the type that needed to get out of the house on a weekend. To me they seemed tame and overpriced – definitely not my vibe.

Fast forward to this year and, having got a boyfriend, suddenly all I want is to go to a market. That’s how Tim and I found ourselves enroute to Herne Hill one sunny Sunday. We walked up from Brixton tube station, both of us hungover and hungry. On arriving I was instantly overwhelmed, there were people everywhere. Young, old, dogs – there was even a lone sheep in the crowd. We tried edging towards the coffee stand and bumped into friends enroute. They looked as bewildered as us, two of them had dogs that were straining at their leads with all the food smells. We half chatted, half tried to order coffee. As the conversation continued I started to experience a strange fuzzy feeling .

“Guys, I need food.” I said.

We muttered hurried goodbyes and broke away. Shuffling down the the central aisle, I took in the stalls laden with meats, cheeses, cakes and whatever else you could want. Then I saw it. The vegan Caribbean stand. Brightly coloured bowls lined with giant, green leaves and filled with vegetables were displayed along the stall’s front. Behind it a lady was throwing what looked like pancakes on a hot griddle. This was it. I quickly parted with £16 for two wraps filled with an array of vegetables. We waited for them in a disorderly queue, elbowing back any hipsters who tried to push to the front. Finally they were ready. The second I had them in my hands I took an enormous bite out of one. It was glorious, the flavours were so fresh and light that it was hard not to devour the whole thing at once. Then I realised I was meant to be sharing my wrap with Tim.  hate sharing. Grudgingly I offered him a bite of mine and winced as I watched him take one. As we finished the last few mouthfuls I noticed the fuzzy feeling in my head beginning to fade away.

Now revived, we turned back towards the market. I noticed jewellery and crafts stalls, things I’d been blinded to in my earlier hunger haze. I made towards the jewellery stand but then got distracted by cake. Much like the vegan one, the cake stall was a haze of colour. We stared in wonder for about ten seconds before buying three giant slices of baked goods which we took round to a mate’s house nearby. Fifteen minutes later, over steaming cups of tea, we sampled the goods. The spinach one, although the most alarming looking, turned out to be the best. Bright green, not too sweet with a mascarpone icing decorated pomegranate seeds. Delicious.

Romance factor – could have been higher if we’d been less hungover and hadn’t ended up at a mate’s house. But still a good time was had.

The damage:

Coffee: £5

Wraps: £16

Cakes: £12

TOTAL: £33

Romance factor: could have been higher but for the presence of friends.

“The cheapest negronis in London.” That’s what the article said. I was sold. A newcomer to the negroni scene, I’d been an instant convert since trying them in the summer of 2015. Other cocktails paled in comparison with the bittersweet mix of vermouth, gin and Campari. The only downside is that they never seemed to be on a happy hour cocktail list.

Tim met me at Rye Wax in Peckham. This café-come-record shop-come-bar sits in the basement of the Bussey building. Dimly lit, with compact wooded tables resembling those all-in-one dinner seating sets that children have, their happy hour runs from 6-8pm most weekdays. We plumped for Old Fashioned’s and grabbed seats near the bar. Within minutes of them arriving I’d drunk mine. Bugger. I’d planned to stay here an hour. That’s the thing with cheap dating, you have to eek out your drinks.

“Right. Shall we just go and see if the restaurant can get us in early?”

“No rush babe” my boyfriend replied. “Just because we’ve finished doesn’t mean we have to leave. We can just stay and chat.

“Ohhh. Right”

We talked some more while watching the paper straws turn to pulp in our glasses. Eventually we left to walk the ten minutes to dinner.

Four Hundred Rabbits’ name is something to do with a Greek gods, booze and fermentation. I read the blurb on the website but was distracted by the bit on negronis. A pizza restaurant on Evelina road in Nunhead, this airy space is dominated by a massive pizza oven with tables arranged around it and a small, white washed yard to sit in out back.

We ordered soon after arriving , first the negronis – they’d gone up 50p to £4 since the article was published, not outrageous but every penny counts. Then the food, I chose the courgette and pine nut pesto pizza. Tim had something with chorizo. When they arrived fresh from the oven I almost didn’t want to eat mine as it looked so pretty.  Paper thin strips of courgette crisscrossed over the yellows cheese below with liberal dabs of fresh green pesto. It was delicious, I tried some of Tim’s but preferred mine, and didn’t want to share, he sensed this and didn’t ask. Good man.

I really enjoyed the meal. The nursed negronis and little white yard conjured up memories of sun soaked evenings abroad. What’s more, when the bill arrived we had slid in under £30 with tip. Winners!

 

The damage

Old Fashioneds x 2: £10

Negronis and pizzas x 2: £28.88

TOTAL: £38.88

The romance factor – Good for a causal midweek date though I would have liked double the amount of drinks. I foresee alcohol is going to be an issue in future…

The day date. Cheaper than a night one? I hoped so.

The man in question was foreign and relatively new in town so I felt bad asking him to plan one. Besides, the last time I’d pushed him to he’d panicked – it was up to me. I wasn’t totally sure how I felt about him either and a day date seemed a safer, less suggestive bet.

That’s when I found the Green Chain Walk. Linking up south London’s prettiest green spaces from Thamesmead to Nunhead Cemetery, I thought it might appeal to my date who spoke fondly of his rural homeland.

A few inches of snow had fallen when we met at Crystal Palace station one freezing Sunday morning. Foolishly underdressed I made a beeline for the station café to down scalding hot coffee. I’d decided we’d do the stretch from here to  Dulwich.

The first green spot was Crystal Palace Park, once home to the Great Exhibition of the Victorian era. It wasn’t as grand as I’d envisaged, but the snow-covered dinosaur models by the lake looked cool. Also good topics of conversation if you’re struggling, snow-covered or not.

On leaving the park we plunged into suburbia, and the large houses around Sydenham hill. The man talked of what our lives would be likeif we lived their while I worried about getting lost. Luckily the route was well signed.

The next bit of greenery was Sydenham Wells Park, sweet, small and vaguely forgettable. I noticed though how refreshing it felt to be out in the bracing cold at an early hour. Getting the circulation going made us talk more animatedly too.

After that there was an interlude in Sidcup Woods which could have been romantic. The path runs alongside a disused railway track and in the melting snow had turned into a quagmire. To avoid it I scrambled up the banks either side but kept sliding back down into my date’s arms. That’s when I realised that he probably weren’t wasn’t for me as I kept climbing higher while he joked that I was trying to avoid him. #awks

Finally we were out of the woods and on the last stretch of road where we turned into Dulwich Park. Here we decamped gratefully to the café for coffee and cake. Mission accomplished and all before midday!

The damage:

£5 – Station café coffees

£15 – Dulwich café coffee and cake

TOTAL: £20

The romance factor:

Potentially high if you fancy them – the bracing fresh air and pretty scenery is a definite plus, as is ending up in Dulwich – always a picturesque experience.

I’d been sick. Struck down after a wedding. I swear it wasn’t a hangover, though I’m not sure work believed me. Something I ate maybe? Who knows, but by the time Monday came around I was done for. Cue a day in bed spent whimpering and tapping my foot on the mattress in a bid to distract from the nausea.

Luckily I rallied, and by Thursday I was back in the game and keen for a cheap date.

I met Tim outside the Ritzy cinema in Brixton. There was a free Caribbean photography exhibition in their upstairs space. As we climbed the steps we heard the thud of drums and realised a band were warming up. We found the pictures but stayed for about 30 seconds, driven back by the noisy rehearsals. It was cheap though.

Next up were cocktails. Around the corner from the Ritzy we saw a sign for 2-4-1 cocktails at Three Little Birds. I’d walked past this bar before but had never been in. The interior had a long bar running down the right hand side, with wine crates attached to the wall behind acting as shelves. We were greeted by a friendly waitress who seated us in the window overlooking the street. Cocktails with rum arrived – surprisingly good. Not too strong tasting at first but then then the alcohol hit us with each subsequent sip. Delicious.

One drink down and we decided to shuffle a few doors along to Three Eight Four. I’d been there before and liked it. I thought it had just the right type of exposed brickwork, friendly staff and interesting cocktails. The food, we also discovered, was pretty good too. The place was packed. Luckily we had reserved a table so some poor couple were shoved aside. It was still happy hour and you didn’t have to order the same one as your date. Boom. Tim ordered a mint flavoured whiskey concoction whilst I plumped for something with egg white – my first mistake.

They arrived and we tucked in. The idea was to eat food at home, saving the precious pennies for more booze, but then we decided to order snacks. First up was a generously filled plate of teriyaki chicken wings, glistening, sticky and covered in chilli. Then we had spicy, lemony tasting calamari followed by mozzarella arancini balls with a creamy tomatoe sauce. D-E-L-I-S-H.  Three snacks later and we’d blown the budget so decided to head home. Cheap dating, I’ve discovered,  can often mean quick dating.

Within half an hour of leaving a familiar feeling returned and I was once again back in bed fighting off nausea. Me thinks I spoke too soon…

The damage
Exhibition at the Ritzy: free
Two cocktails at Three Little Birds: 2 for £12.25
Two cocktails and food at Three Eight Four: £32.33
TOTAL: £44.58 – technically a fail but we were close!

Romance rating: Good enough, though would have liked more of the cocktails and less of the nausea.

“Oooh, it’s actually quite warm!” I yelled to my boyfriend Tim as I slipped off the jetty. Almost immediately a sludgy slime began to engulf my legs. Gross.

After driving for what felt like forever we had arrived at Westbere Lake. Not far from Whitstable, it’s a former quarry that’s since been flooded. Where once heavy machinery hacked chunks from the rock, now little dinghy’s are moored. There’s a foliage-filled island in the middle and masses of trees surrounding the lake’s perimeter. When we visited they were all at peak summer fullness, on that tipping point of summer and autumn.

Rated as one of the Evening Standard’s top wild swimming spots near London, we expected to be elbowing back the crowds. But the place was deserted, except for some bloke in a white van driving back and forth along the shoreline. A restless fisherman or dispirit dogger perhaps?

After persuading Tim into the slimy shallows, we ended up half-crawling, half-clawing our way through reeds in our bid for open water. Once past the last line of lily pads we were met by a stiff wind crashing mini waves in our faces. Not quite as romantic as I’d hoped, I suggested we up the stakes and swim to a buoy in the middle. He cautiously agreed. After much thrashing around we made it. Clinging to the buoy we attempted a kiss, almost drowning each other in the process. Who says romance is dead? Then it was back to the shore for a picnic.

After the picnic and some exploring of the shoreline we left the lake and white van man to try out the local pub. Reputedly the oldest in Kent, Ye Olde Yew Tree Inn is full of low doorways and authentic looking beams. I plumped for a half of the local cider which was dry and refreshing.

Then it was back to London via Canterbury – also totally worth a look around. Steeped in history, it’s full of cute gardens and quaint little bridges crisscrossing the river which are romantic to wander across. The cathedral was interesting too, huge with so many different spaces within it. Well worth an explore.

Day trip from London done!

The damage:

• £25 on petrol

• £5 on snacks for me

• £7 on drinks and crisps in the pub. We packed a picnic of left overs so that bit was free.

• £3 on ice creams from the ALDI

• TOTAL: £40 – bang on budget!

Romance rating:

Quite high despite the slimy shallows, abundant reeds and smell of pond weed that lingered for the rest of the day.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton