Yesterday, we left our Soho apartment at around 9ish. We wanted to be at the Spitalfields market early and be able to explore. Surprisingly, it was Pam who suggested that the 10 minute walk to Oxford Circus and the tube might be too long, that we should save our feet. She was right, but I wouldn't realize that until much later in the day.
Spitalfields was not the droids we were looking for. What we wanted was the market at Brick Lane, but we wouldn't have known that had we not tubed to Liverpool Station and put in the hours and pounds at Spitalfields, which was mostly a lot of t-shirts and fashion. I asked the slap watch guy about another nearby market and he sent us in the direction of Brick Lane for something decidedly more gritty. And more happening.
We show up on a side street that at first is a little disappointing - decidedly down-market, resembling nothing so much as a very large garage sale, though you couldn't ask for more when it comes to international people-watching. Buyers and sellers of all ethnicities milled and handled, bought and sold, pressed against each other within the vacant lot of tables. Further down, however, on Brick Lane itself, was the prize - a long venue filled with vendors - art and craft, books, old, broken musical instruments and turntables spinning £2 records, jewelry, and food. Lots of food stalls. We ate fruit cups and Eritrean sambosas and I continued to drink tea, tea - more tea!
On a side alley to the left we entered the something something art and tea garden shops, where Pam bought a card from an artist who looks like Malcolm Gladwell but paints like Ralph Steadman. I spoke with him, got his card, know his name - and he apprised me of the Ralph Steadman retrospective at the Cartoon Museum near the British Museum. 5£50 and I want to go there today or tomorrow.
It is in this place that my shaggy son finally got his hair cut. Pam paid a barber who had a stall amidst all of the art stalls and Griffin was chopped into a respectable-looking do of a keen British lad. Berit too got her hair trimmed there.
From Brick Lane we walked toward the Shoreditch tube stop, a mistake on my part that wasn't made evident until too much walking was done. So we turned around and did more walking back to Liverpool. We took the tube to St. Paul's where we gave short shrift to the Museum of London. We were tired, our feet hurt, and walking around a museum was just not taking. We wanted to lie around, but we didn't want to go back to the flat. We sought advice. We went to Camden Town.
Hippy and trippy and full of punks and souvenir shops, what we enjoyed most about Camden were the crepes the kids bought and the mixed curry dish (after 6 pm, reduced to £3!) that I picked up along the canal. Dropping out of the street scene into the canal to sit next to the gently moving water and watch the boats bob up and down while the kids ate ice cream was a perfect end to the evening, and we headed back to the Camden Town Station where we caught the Northern Line back down to Kings Cross where we would switch to the Picadilly Line and then back to the flat.
Or so we thought. Because after leaving the Camden tube stop, on the train for Kings Cross, we discovered that Griffin had left a bag of gifts and souvenirs in the station, items Pam had purchased, the evidence of a day at the markets. So with little hope that we'd see the bag on the seats we had previously occupied, we dashed through Kings Cross to the train returning to Camden, where we confirmed that the bag was indeed nowhere to be seen. Most likely taken home by a lucky treasure-hunter, but Griffin and I nevertheless ran up the escalators to inquire of the station masters if anyone had turned the bag in. Questioning ensued, and Griffin was able enough to describe the contents so that after some signature-taking, we were able to return to the girls - Pam incredulous that we could recover the bag and a happy ending to the incident, especially for Griffin who had been distraught that he'd left the bag.
Today, we'll go to the Tower of London and, likely, Hamley's, a world famous seven floor toy store in Piccadilly Circus.
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