Brrrrrrrr!!!

It's winter.

Mornings that aren't frosty are misty... puddles freeze overnight on the footpath... coming home at twenty past four feels like the middle of the night... and standing for longer than a few minutes at the bus stop makes you uncomfortably aware of your feet. Everyone's breath billows in hazy clouds and sometimes all that keeps you going is the thought of fish and chips. I've been quite tickled by my acquisition of a - well, what IS it? it's black, made of wool, part shawl, part cape, I guess... it has fringey edges, and swirls about me quite dramatically in the wind, and can be draped in any way I choose, muffling my neck or hiding my hands in its folds. I tend to feel like I'm leaving the house wearing a picnic blanket, but then I persuade myself that it's more Zorro than Tea On The Lawn. In any case, I don't care, because it's WARM.

'ackney and the East End

Thought it might be interesting to show people a little bit of the local area... (remember you can click on any of these photos to see a much larger image; just click 'back' on your browser to return to the blog). I've been looking for a good map, but it's rather difficult to find one with any level of detail, so I'm going to try to link to one. Now, I've never inserted a link into my blog before, so bear with me... *five minutes later* gah; it all goes squirrelly, so what I'll do is this - see those links over to the right? I'll put a new one in at the bottom of the list, for a map of Hackney and London Fields and the local area round about, and you can go from there, ok?

So... find London Fields (not hard; it's right in the middle), and look down at the south-western edge... you'll see the word 'DRIVE' (part of the longer 'Lansdowne Drive'), and running off at a sort of right angle is Trederwen Road... where the two meet is a little circle, representing a roundabout, and we're right there, on the green side of the street. Buses go round that roundabout all the time and if I'm in my living room it can seem like they're going to come through the window... as apparently a car DID, back in the 70's. As Bron said, when I was moving in down here; 'one more reason to have your bedroom on the OTHER side of the house' ;)

All righty then, what else is interesting...? Broadway Market is right there too; you can see how close it is... pretty much the whole of its short length is used for the market on Saturday. There are some great restaurants there - our brilliant pub (more like a tavern), The Dove, which sells the only type of beer I enjoy (Belgian fruit beers) along with a damn fine menu, ranging from ostrich burgers through Thai dishes to a pint of chips (truly! they're served in a pint glass) to sticky toffee pudding; the Argentine restaurant, Buen Ayre, with the open grill which needed special approval from the fire department (Buen Ayre will be having its first birthday next month! that's gone so fast); Mediterranean Cilicia, with the beautiful gourds hung under the ceiling, all studded with coloured beads and glowing with gentle light... it's so beautiful in there... and of course don't forget F. Cooke, Live Eel Importer, trading from the same premises for almost a hundred years, and a classic example of an East End pie and mash shop, from the menu to the wooden benches and tables and the sawdust scattered daily on the floor... We walk down Broadway Market to get to Hackney Road and Columbia Road - if you use the green arrow at the bottom of the map to scroll down you'll see Goldsmith's Row (love that name), that links the two, and you can scroll westwards a little to see the rest of that area. You cross Regent's Canal at the end of Broadway Market - if you look to the north, you can see the fully-functioning lock gate, and if you go south-ish, and follow the tow path, you come round to Victoria Park.

Then there's Hackney Central, to the north east of London Fields - I usually walk from home if I'm going over there, but if I want to catch a bus I walk out along Westgate Street to Mare Street - buses to Bethnal Green tube station go south from there, so I have to cross the road, and buses into Hackney Central or beyond to Clapton or wherever go north up Mare Street. But walking is so much nicer - I cross the park, coming out on Martello Street in the north-eastern corner, and then go along the footpaths parallel to the main road, to the library (in Reading Lane, appropriately enough), past the town hall and the 'Ackney Empire (a WONDERFUL old music hall, in the old tradition; I've only been inside it once, but it was just amazing, with boxes and velvet and ornate plasterwork over the stage and so on)

and in to the shops... the main supermarket, Tesco, is on Morning Lane (along with a GREAT noodle restaurant where I can get a huge plate of the yummiest Singapore noodles EVER, and a drink, for a fiver), and then there's Woolworths and similar in the middle there, right at Hackney Central. Where Mare Street turns white on the map it becomes a pedestrian and bus road (interesting combination, I know), with more shops (the Pound Shop! source of many bargains), and the lovely 12th century church tower, right in amongst all the buildings... there's a lovely old graveyard there too, in off the street, and when I was over there in spring there was a gorgeous cheeky squirrel who came out and posed for the camera; he was very sweet. I walk right up that part of Mare Street on my way to church... (for those interested in finishing the journey - I'm looking at you, dad - I then turn right onto Lower Clapton Road, go left when it does, and the church is right there on the corner of Lower Clapton Road and Powerscroft Road).

Remember, remember

the fifth of November:

gunpowder, treason and PLOT

Well, we had no Guy, but we had all the other essential ingredients... a bonfire (albeit in a drum, but in central London that's about as good as you can get), LOADS of fireworks (on which more later), roast lamb with rosemary, roast veges, wine, home-made candied apples (which Juliet's recipe referred to as 'bombs on sticks'), baked rice pudding, and a crowd of about fifteen guests to celebrate with. The night's festivities were intended as a last hurrah for the garden, before winter really sets in (and of course as an excuse for the pyromaniacs amongst us to indulge their weakness for playing with matches, wicks, candles, tapers, exploding things; anything flammable that they could get their hands on, really)...

So! a how-to in words and pictures then (and I hasten to assure any concerned mothers or grandmothers that this is not MY story; no; I was merely a bystander with a camera; this is the story of a pyro who shall remain nameless, but she doesn't live with us ;) )

1. Set up a pipe in the ground, from which to launch rockets. Carefully work out angle of trajectory so that objects launched therefrom will miss overhanging trees (most of garden), house (most of side of garden) and street lights (less important as they don't belong to us ;) ). Reinforce pipe with broken bits of masonry. Ignore worried looks from homeowners.

2. After setting off a few rockets, and watching them go spiralling perfectly into the sky with scorching whooshes, get impatient of having one at a time, and set up a second pipe. Try to light two at a time so that they both go off together.

Comfort homeowners when one hits the guttering, bounces off the bedroom window and plummets back down into the garden. Prohibit curious menfolk from approaching said rocket as it has not yet exploded.

3. Produce, like a conjuring trick, an enormous box-like affair that does not conTAIN fireworks, but is, in fact, one huge firework, which looks as if it could have been part of the original Gunpowder Plot. Set this up under the trees as 'it won't go that high'. Watch as great wads of flaming and sparking material ricochet off the branches above

and shower the cowering crowd below

with ash, cinders and sparks.

4. Laugh (after ascertaining that there were no injuries; clothes can be mended, after all).

5. Produce, from a secret hiding place, another of these which puts the first one to shame. Suggest that this may be better if let off in the open spaces of London Fields (heartfelt and unanimous agreement from crowd), and go to set up. Summon crowds with a whistle; ignite the Mother of All Fireworks (which cannot POSSibly be done justice by photos).

Oh, and the police were out in force early in the evening to prevent this taking place -

but perhaps it did anyway ;)

Columbia Road

Columbia Road is shaped like a wide V, with the ends of both arms ending up on Hackney Road, about ten minutes' walk from home. It's pretty nondescript for most of the week - oh, there are some nice enough shops there, but there are a few of THOSE around London - no; what makes it special are Sundays. For on Sundays, there's a wonderful flower market there; stalls of flowers and plants and vines and small shrubs and trees lining the street for what seems like miles; East End stallholders all vying with one another for your business ('one for four pahnd; free for a tenner! lovely pansies; six pahnd a tray; I'll frow in a extra one wiv it; can't say fairer'n'at'), cafes selling aromatic coffee and bagels and pastries; pubs offering a fry-up (aka the 'Full English'); buskers; second-hand stores; the lot. People flock from everywhere; it's always packed. And all day on Sunday, wherever you are around Hackney, if you see a guy on a bike riding somewhat erratically whilst holding a massive bunch of tulips under one arm, or a young couple walking slowly, with frequent stops to put down the weeping fig in the black glazed pot, or an old lady with a spray of holly across the top of the shopping trolley she's trundling, you know they've been to Columbia Road.