To be fair, I come from a country with towns such as Boring, Oregon, Hot Coffee, Mississippi, and Humptulips, Washington, not to mention Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Maggie and I even got married in a town called Volcano (which is nowhere near an actual volcano). So I really have no leg to stand on when I mock British place names. Plus, with the exception of one misguided trip to the ASDA (Wallmart UK) near Mudchute, I had never actually gone to Mudchute, so I shouldn't have judged prematurely.
Mudchute got its name because there was literally a mud chute for depositing silt dredged from the Thames for the docks. Despite the name and the muddy past, Mudchute is actually fairly charming, particularly compared to the sterile glass and steel soullessness of the nearby Canary Wharf financial district. The hilly look to the area derives from the piles of deposited silt now covered in grass and shrubs; the charm comes from the lovely Mudchute Park and Farm.
One of the London foodie blogs we read regularly, Tasty Treats, turned us on to Mudchute Kitchen, the restaurant at the farm. Unless you've been to Mudchute Farm, you would never guess this type of place could exist in London, much less right next to Canary Wharf. Given the promise of delicious homemade food at Mudchute Kitchen and the chance to say hello to all of the animals on the surrounding farm, we had to go check it out. Before we went, Maggie noticed that the website of the farm had a picture of children petting sheep, and Maggie has always dreamt of being able to pet a sheep. Hey, a girl can dream.
Mama and Baaaby
Gloucester Old Spot pigs keeping cool
Maggie's new friend