A Sunday Sidling along Southbank

It may come as a surprise to you, but Sunday is considered by many to be the worst day of the week. It is too late in the weekend to do anything that could have lasting after-effects, and too close to Monday to fully relax ahead of yet another busy week.

It seems as if the ladies of Ireland would agree with me; they have summed up these Sunday blues in 9 depressing points.

1) The Hangover
5) Nothing is open
6) Homework

The temptation on a Sunday is let these blues drag you down into the spiral of the week’s stress prematurely, resulting in you slothfully sloping around inside  the house all days as opposed to engaging with exciting activities outside of it.

My advice would be this: choose Sunday for your weekend’s day out.

Leave the house, hop on a train and do something memorable. Not only would you create fond Sunday memories, thus lessening the dread of future Sundays, but you would also forget how close you are to those 6am rises and crowded tube commutes.

For last Sunday’s outing I chose Southbank.

 Southbank, for those international readers, is the (guess which) bank of the river Thames. The promenade lies between the Waterloo and Southwark bridges, and takes the form of a particularly picturesque walk with views of the Thames and the City. It is famous for its “eye” over London, its unnaturally flexible street performers, and the innumerable ice-cream vans and coffee stands.

 Perhaps my obsession with the place is unwarranted, but the reason that I will nearly always choose Southbank as my favourite meeting spot is because of its central location, the range of food venues (from brunch to lunch to Italian) and the thriving atmosphere.

You cannot just visit Southbank, you must be entertained. Whether that be taking to the skies (on the eye), dipping inside the London aquarium or (as we did) sidling along to the Tate Modern there is no excuse not to have a cultural experience there.

The Tate always has 3 to 4 free exhibitions open to the public. I feel that these exhibitions are wonderful not only for simple entertainment, but also for opening the public’s eyes to what is and isn’t considered to be art. The odd paintings and often grotesque sculptures challenge the visitor’s perceptions and (unfortunately for my companions) has always succeeded in plonking me in a deeply philosophical and playfully argumentative mood.

With a cheap audio-book and a good pair of trainers one can spend a happy two hours wandering around the various rooms of “Poetry and Dream” and “Energy and Process” seeing the works of Pollack and Giorgio de Chirico.

After such an experience the only proven method of dispelling my meaningless and philosophical chatter is to keep me quiet with a large glass for cider and a good view of the river. My companion (who on this occasion was my Mother) managed to figure this trick out when I was at a controversially young age. She has since used this clever decoy for a number of years with pleasing results…

Thus we found ourselves sashaying into the The Founders Arms. Its location between the Tate and Blackfriars places it nicely in the flow of river-side pedestrian traffic; a factor which probably contributes to up to 60% of its custom. Having tasted what it has to offer, however, the other 40% must definitely be attributed to the pub itself.

The Founders is unique in that the layout and serving style is that of your average pint-pub, and yet the Thames views and furnishings are that of a restaurant. It therefore becomes more than just a bite to eat and more like a semi-stylish wine-bar where the tourists, travelers and trophy winners of London mix and mesh.

Seated at a terrace table we enjoyed a satisfying “Mediterranean” platter of flat-breads, houmous, olives and feta. I am now keen to return to try the “British” platter of pork pies, scotch eggs and other such goodies that these delicious arms were offering.

The Founders Arms isn’t the only foodie gem to be found along Southbank. I would also recommend Las Iguanas (for excellent tapas), Doggett’s Coat and Badge (for a real river-side pub) and (if your pocket is much deeper than mine) the famous Oxo Tower Restaurant.

I will admit that I returned to Balham after my Sunday jaunt with blisters, sunburn and a light dehydration-induced hangover. I will happily admit, however, that I managed to escape the Sunday blues that staying indoors could have given me and felt satisfied that my weekend had been well spent.

It wasn’t an expensive, epic or particularly stylish day out, but as good old (or should I say young) JLo once put it: her love doesn’t cost a thing.