The Sahara Grill and Leyton

Re Riding Hood was jam-packed this afternoon. I met many people with views on what they want next year through my volunteering with Open Stage 2012. The whole place was buzzing and the bar and restaurant were rammed. The workers are always welcoming and smiley….adds a lot.

I am doing my best to highlight Leyton as the place to come to for shopping and eating, entertainment and wotnot. Can be an uphill task when everywhere building works are in place especially towards the Site  (Olympic and Paralympic Games). New restaurants are springing up too but if you read the reviews you’d hesitate, I am about to try The Sahara Grill with a review rating of 6/10. It’s a 5 minute walk from Leyton Station and looks beautiful from outside. But look at what’s around it? Even after the cuts, Waltham Forest council promised to clean up the High Street leading to the Site. I see many shuttered hovels. Of course shop owners can do something but do they? Go on the bus from Drapers (doomed) Park opposite the Sahara Grill and as you get towards the mecca that is Bakers’ Arms, count the betting shops. William Hill is obviously too too rich! Love that man.

Anyway guess what? Yes I saw it. I did. A tree in blossom, small but visible behind the road in front of the construction work going on where the Working Men’s Club stood like only yesterday.

On that warming note I won’t go on about the Lego advert on telly. Just watch it and listen with mother. No worse than the Fairy advert or Nisa. All about the role play, eh? I was on a film course and after watching a film we were asked why we thought the main guy was angry with his wife  (it was all about the grieving for a dead child…am I allowed to say that in the light of the Eastenders furore?) so we all put forward our arty farty filmy suggestions involving fade outs and time viewer perceptions then up sparks one of us women. “It’s because his wife hadn’t put his dinner on the table.” Joy to the teacher who got out of that one in a PC manner. I just fell into the pit that was the fifties.