Markets this time. Promise.

My waking dream this morning had me being bombarded with water balloons by a blonde haired English kid on a balcony. I was on a residential street in London, supposedly Tanya's, but more the dream version of the street we're on, not the actual street, as there are no 2nd story balconies on this street. Anyway, I lure the kid out of the house and confront him about this, try to make him see reason, attempt to barter, all to no avail. He runs back in the house, up and out onto the balcony and the bombardment continues. I will say though that his aim was crap and he hadn't hit me yet. In fact, the water from the exploding balloons did not so much as splash up and wet the fine bespoke suit I was wearing. And no, I have not packed one of these. An adult lady then comes out on the balcony with a load of washing and I find myself able to speak with her and attempt to convince her to aid me in stopping the boy from throwing his aqua grenades. Surely an adult would see my side of the story. Apparently not. Instead she begins to taunt me and tell me off and, giving me and my fine suit a look of utter contempt she says "You, you, you market boy".  I am confused by this insult, so I naturally ask her to explain herself and what she intended by that barb. She admits to having no idea and gets back to normal insults. And that's when I wake up.

I'm not big on dream interpretation, but I have deduced the following two key messages from this one.

1. I am concerned about my relationship with Noah and Jake over the coming year and how I'll deal with my ever decreasing level of "authority" as they continue to mature, especially now that we're together all the time.

2. I should have finished my story about the markets yesterday so that the title and opening made sense.

It's amazing what weighs on you.

As I mentioned, Saturday Noah and Jake hung out with Eli and Gabriel. So the two of them left the house to go meet up with the other guys mid-morning. Simon was in the garden - he loves his garden, Tanya was doing bills and such, and I was lazing. Yes, lazing. Okay, maybe not truly lazing, but close I think. I read a bit, did some reading on places we'd be going, sent out some couchsurfing requests, stuff like that. That kinda counts as lazing, right?

Actually I was waiting for Tanya to finish up her stuff so tha we could head to Woolwich market to pick up a few things.

I mentioned Woolwich market before, as it is the one we saw the Sunday we first arrived, and it's where the boys and I have been doing much of our grocery shopping on our way home in the evenings. Well, it's alot different on a Saturday late morning. Its very alive with fruit and vegetable stalls, clothing stalls, and other stalls selling all manner of good. Mostly fruit and veg though. You can hear stall keepers drawling out, and yes, there is a British version of a drawl "Bananas. Pound for a pound." And what a great line. "Pound for a pound"; we should change our currency just so we can say stuff like that. All the tables out, covered in a variety of fruits and vegetables, each portion priced and sitting on it's own metal platter, waiting to be wisked into a bag when asked for. It's a good way to shop. Lots of farmers markets in Toronto; I don't use them enough.

Anyway, Woolwich was market one for the day.

After taking the groceries home Tanya and I headed into the core of the city, leaving Simon to continue with his gardening. First stop was the Borough Market, by way of Southwark Cathedral, where we sat for a brief little while listening to an orchestra rehearse for what we assumed was a concert that evening.

They ask you to buy a permit to take pictures of the inside of the Cathedral. It's only two pound fifty, and I think this an excellent approach, and much better than the "you can't take pictures" approach adopted by St. Paul's, amongst others. That said, I did not acquire said permit, so if you want to see what it looks like on the inside you'll either have to visit it, or do a Google images search, which I am not prepared to do for you.

And then we found our way to the market.

The Borough Market is an old market in Soutwark, around the corner from Southwark Cathedral, and fairly close to London Bridge. It's one of the oldest markets in London. The picture I included of it sucks, and it is the best of the lot. This is for a few good reasons:

1. I am not a very good photographer.
2. I do not like clogging up a bustling market where people are trying to either work or shop by waiting for that "perfect picture".
3. While you feel the energy and buzz of the market the moment you enter it, it's actually quite difficult to capture that in a photograph. What you feel in your bones ends up being a bunch of umbrellas. See point #1.

But it is an amazing place, full of lots of life, and really great food, and frankly, not only am I inadequate as a photographer, I'm also not a good enough writer. So I'll stop trying now.

Read Dickens.

In the streets near the market though is Neal's Yard Dairy, a cheese shop.

This one I think says it all. Cheese Monger, and really, really good cheese. And the best thing about a cheese shop? Who said "samples"? You are correct. Samples it is. Tanya and I could have gorged ourselves on samples had we so chosen. We did not so chosen though, and it was too warm a day to make any purchase and cart it around, so off we went.

I'll pause now to give Tanya her rightfully deserved props. Tanya is an excellent tour guide. I believe I mentioned previously how good she is at this sort of thing, and knowing about where she lives and all the interesting things in it. Well, ya, she's really good at it. And this Saturday was very much about Tanya showing me some of the areas that Tanya likes, all in this particular area of London.

So this lead us to Leadenhall Market.

No, I did not actually get everyone in the immediate vicinity out of the way to only have Tanya  walk into it at the last moment. This particular market is all about it's permanent shops, which are now primarily restaurants, and, given it's location, is pretty much closed on the weekend. During the week it is overflowing with people from the surrounding offices, but on the weekend, quiet. Too quiet.

Not too quiet though was one of our next stops, The George. We were getting thirsty and The George is an inn and pub in Southwark, originally established in the medieval period, that is noted for, amongst other things, being mentioned in Dickens' Little Dorritt. Tanya had brought my father and I here last time, so it was nice to return, grab a pint, and relax in their courtyard.

Our walk then continued and we passed this building.

I can't remember what it is called, though Tanya did mention it, and I asked her to repeat herself a couple of times in the apparently futile hope that I would retain such information. I can't ask her now as Tanya is at work and quite busy today, so not an appropriate time to ring her up and say "Hiya. Do you, um, remember the name of that building, um, that, I think you mentioned had a masonic temple in its basement?"

Yes, apparently a masonic temple was recently found in the lower levels of this building. It had been boarded up at some point - potentially during one of the wars - and had not seen the light of day since. And that's why I included the picture and wrote a little bit about the building, even though it's likely frustrating that I have little to offer you all right now. At least a year from now, if I look at this picture again, I'll have something that reminds me why I took this picture.

Yes, this blog is for me as much as it is for you. More so in fact.

We then headed off to Spitalfields Market and Brick Lane. I mentioned both of these, and possibly mis-spelled them, when I wrote about Jake, Noah and I going on the Jack the Ripper Walk. Well, that walk was in the evening, the market was quiet, and we didn't actually go to Brick Lane. Now though the market was alive with stall upon stall of various wares. Tanya and I skirted the edges of the market just to pass through. One of the interesting things about the market that Tanya informed me of is that, I guess like many of the markets, they have had to fight, to a certain extent anyway, to keep them alive and well and living in London. The markets are prime realestate and people are always looking for new places to build, and in London, that is becoming harder and harder to find. So these Victorian open air covered markets tend to be targets. Spitalfields is an example of one where they found a happy medium where there is some new development within the space, but it also retains much of it's original feel and openness.

I hope I got that right Tanya. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Alas, no pictures of it from me, and no pictures of Brick Lane.

Brick Lane, or perhaps just Bricklane, is not a market, it's a street, or series of streets near the Spitalfield market that I was primarily thinking of when I wrote the beginnings of yesterdays blog entry. So this is the amazingly busy streets, live music, street art, street food, walking, rumbling, screaming, buzzing place that I was trying to describe, but can't possibly do justice.

I know the picture I would take though. I thought of it on Monday. If I had thought of it, I would have taken a picture of the rows of huge pans, that street vendors were serving up steaming mounds of curries, stir fry, and lord knows what else from. I can see this picture, steam rising from them, the hand of the vendor holding a large spatula in focus, and the coloured blur of the crowd in the background.

The above is proof that a picture is worth a thousand words. Try to picture it please, it will save us both some grief.

Saturday concluded with Tanya and I meeting up with Noah and Jake and heading off for Fish 'n Chips at a place near Baker Street (yes, we went by 221B), where they've been serving them up for a very, very long time.

I feel like I've been saying that alot. "Serving them up", or something like that, "for a very, very long time". Well, that's the amazing thing about London and what I believe I enjoy the most. Its true. Many of these shops have been around for ever. How cool is that? Cool. Very, very cool.

Sunday was a day with a little bit of everything in it. Sunday morning we all, including Simon this time, headed out to Wapping Market.

Wapping Market is an outdoor market that had only been open for two weekends. This was its third. You'd never know. Again, the food, the wine, and the rest of the wares. Just a feast for the senses. The guys picked up some brownies and donuts, that were some of the best I've had (yes, they let me sample, which was very kind). Tanya and Simon each picked up sandwiches that looked fantastic. I tried some wine.

This is the bottle that Simon bought. I had bought just a glass of the Chardonnay - it was that kind of day. Le Grappin is a little vineyard in Burgundy that is owned by some nice folk in London. We got to talking about the wines, I mentioned I was from Canada, and bless the man, he likes what Ontario is doing in that department, especially with the Chardonnay. And oh my pride. It's not like I have anything to do with wine production in Canada, other than being a consumer of it of course, but still, when you're abroad and people say they like something Canadian, well, it feels good. And besides, we both agreed that we were very tired of California, and the obsession with the vanilla finish lots of oak puts on a Chardonnay. Canada - yes, lots is barrelled in oak, but you don't generally get that finish. Le Grappin? No oak.

And there you have it.

We continued our walk along the Thames. The "Thames Walk", as it is called (and it is, there are signs all over calling it that), runs along the north bank of the Thames for quite the distance. We took the walk from Wapping to The Docklands Museum.

Remember how I said I liked the place names and street names in London? I would love to put this down as a return address.

Anyway, yes, we went to The Docklands Musem, or, Museum of London Docklands, as it is properly called. This is a museum that Tanya and Simon have been wanting to go to for awhile, and today was the day. So something new for all of us.

Like many a museum in London Docklands is free to visit, but requests a small donation. The museum itself has a single subject matter - the history of the docklands of London. (You may have sorted that out already.) It is three floors in an old storehouse on the Thames, so the building itself is wonderful to look at with it's wide plank floors and massive timbers. Taking the lift to the top floor you then work your way down, starting from pre Roman times, through the Romans, through medieval, through and through and through, up till present day. Addressing slavery and immigration to London and the diversity of its community and culture. Dealing with the wars, and the importance of that area along the Thames and the massive damage it took during the bombings. And dealing with the redevelopment of the area with places such as Canary Wharf, brought to you by Canada's own Reichmann brothers.

It covers alot. And I know I've said this, but I'm going to repeat myself, I really do enjoy museums that have a single topic. It's easier to focus the mind on one continuous topic, and it provides an end to end picture. And I like that sort of thing. While there I was also reminded of Thames: Sacred River, a biography of the Thames by historian Peter Ackroyd. Ackroyd has also written an amazing biography on London titled, funnily enough, London: A Biography. If you're interested in that sort of thing I highly recommended them. If you're not, then your loss.

We left the musem, and Simon, as he wanted to spend more time there and would meet us at home later, and headed off to Greenwich.

Yes Greenwich, home to time, the Royal Navy, the royal deer, a lovely park, a pie and mash shop where you can get eel, and all sorts of other fine things.

All of these fine things are accessible via a tunnel running under the Thames.

The acoustic of this tunnel, while not equal to that of St. Paul's Whispering Gallery, is still quite extraordinary, as can be proven with the simple test of having a small child yell at her father who is dawdling along somewhere far behind her.

Clarion call indeed.

I need to go scramble eggs so I will keep this brief.

Greenwich is lovely, and to me is a reminder of why symmetry is never a bad thing.

It's also a reminder why painting the ceiling with something other than off white stucco can be worth the effort, as can be witnessed in the dining hall.

It is another of London's wonderous parks, including quiet walking paths:

Incredibly old trees

And ample room for frisbee.

What, you think Noah didn't bring it?

It also has an abundance of lovely flora and fauna. I have no idea what this is.

And lastly, it has exceptional chimneys.

Actually, no, it doesn't. The chimneys are a shot I took closer to home when we got off the bus near Tanya's. Sorry about the street lamp and "property centre" sign. I like the sea of chimneys that crop up throughout London, so I thought I'd get a shot of them, even if a poor shot.

Monday was Canterbury.

Egg's first.