A local restaurant that's always on song

Is life a series of disconnected coincidences? Does it all depend on being in the right place at the right time? Or is luck (and this has always been my maxim) simply a combination of opportunity and hard work?

I hadn't thought about such pretentiously soul-searching matters for years until I walked into The Naked Turtle this week.

Not because it was here, in this little restaurant on the borders of Sheen and Richmond, that a ditzy cocktail waitress from Essex was whisked off to Cannes to sing for George Clooney in a true once-in-a-lifetime rags-to-riches story, but because of the paintings that were filling every available space on the walls. By local artist Ian Heath, they were mostly of cats (though a few turtles were in evidence, too), and I felt myself melt.

I adore cats, and Guy and I have two Russian Blues. We bought them in competition with a perfectly nice woman who was standing behind us in the cat queue of the Famous London Department store - and had wanted one of them to 'put with her Siamese'. Thank whatever deity you worship that we were there to save one of them from this cruel fate, and keep them together as loving sisters. Now, that was luck.

It's years since I've been in Richmond - which inexplicably has its detractors. The line from the gloomy film The Hours that brought the house down was Virginia Woolf saying: 'If it is a choice between Richmond and death, I choose death.' What rubbish. It's a very right-on place to live. It was Richmond council that recently piloted the gas-guzzler tax - charging four-by-fours a hefty fee for parking.

I once had a temporary job in nearby Isleworth soon after leaving university and the only nice people there all lived in Richmond (which at the time I mistakenly thought was part of London). But why wouldn't they be nice? Richmond was the prettiest place - with its hill and park and river - and it still is. It's a neighbourhood with a good heart, even though the rather terrifying Lady Annabel Goldsmith lives here, as does her charismatic son Zac, who's standing for parliament next time around and thankfully hasn't inherited her jaw.

The Naked Turtle is the epitome of what an imaginative local restaurant should be. It's the kind of place you wished you lived round the corner from. I immediately wanted to sign up for their newsletter.

In addition to the jazz-singing waitresses, which aren't at all flash or gimmicky, it has good, homecooked and seasonal food that reminded me of an Eighties bistro. Cosy and reliable - with enthusiastic, polite staff - the restaurant would probably knock you up a surprise birthday cake with very little notice. The place was packed out when we went there - perhaps with incognito talent scouts acting on behalf of the Ocean's 13 cast, who knows?

After nibbling olives, we started with smoked duck and fried calamari. The former was properly tender and the squid had its perfect, uniquely chewy, texture. Next we polished off a steak and a burger. Each was excellent, and the chips scored eight on our chip test (I'm still looking for the perfect ten - the Brad Pitt of chips).

There was a huge selection of wines by the glass, including my favourite rosé, and I gave a big sigh of contentment. Rosé wine used to be deeply unfashionable but not any more. Not only is it pretty to look at, but it's summery, too. It's what the rich and famous are demanding in their ice-buckets these days and it's great to see it thriving again.