UK 2012 ISSUE 14

The Shard

We finished off our sojourn in London with a trip down the Portobello Road and an exploration of the "literary" squares of London.  Hammersmith, the area of London where our rental house was located, is a pretty middle class, white area of the city.  But, as with most places, you don't need to travel far for the entire character of the place to change.    Hammersmith had been our Underground station of choice so, just to change things up we decided to take a stroll to Goldhawk Road, just a hop, skip, and a jump from Shepherds Bush.

A handful of blocks and we were in what is obviously a very multi ethnic/cultural area.  Lots of shops selling strange sounding foods, generally African, would be my guess, although there seemed to be quite a number of folk of Caribbean extraction on the street.  There's a  lovely lilt to their speech that makes it delightful to listen to.   All of a sudden shops were no longer sedate   establishments selling pretty trinkets, middle class necessities and trendy food; instead they seemed of another time and place.  We passed an astrologer, an apothecary selling dried who know what, a business specialising in eels and masses of fabric shops.  The fabric shop windows were a blaze of colour and texture.  At first glance, you might have thought every Bollywood costume designer in Europe must shop here.  On closer inspection, it went way beyond spangles, embroidery and gauzy fabric.  There were stores full of African prints.

Goldhawk Road

 One seemed to have nothing but gabardine, or whatever it is that men's suiting is made of.  Another obviously specialised in upholstery fabric and there was a little hole in the wall that sold thread and needles, lace and zippers, as well as "buttons and bows" (so, I stole that one from Oklahoma and my penance shall be an ear worm for the rest of the evening.)  Just outside the underground station was an alleyway that marked the beginning of the Shepherds Bush outdoor market.    From all appearances it runs from Goldhawk Road to Shepherds Bush, down an alley probably not more the 20 feet wide.  Shops were built into the wall under the train tracks and down the centre of the path were stalls without formal roofs but covered in tarps and various kinds of canopies.  You could have outfitted your kitchen for most any cuisine.  There were those funny looking pots for tangines, woks, food processors, pots sized from one pint to five gallons, name it you could probably find it.  There was every sort of linen you could possibly want for your entire home, quilts and comforters, blankets and bedding, towels  and curtains, furniture covers and area rugs.  As in any English market there was an never ending supply of cleaning products and hardware, never mind the clothing and knick knacks.  There wasn't much in the way of fresh produce but I did spot a butcher and a fishmonger.  This is a market for serious shopping, not shopping as entertainment.  We were too early, so there wasn't much open and we did have a destination in mind, but this is a place that might be fun to explore some other time.

Next stop, Ladbroke Grove.   For me that name is synonymous with the Van Morrison song Slim Slow Slider, although I no idea what the connection might be, as there are definitely no sandy beaches anywhere nearby.  "Saw you walking, Down by the ladbroke grove this morning Saw you walking, Down by the ladbroke grove this morning, Catching pebbles for some sandy beach, You're out of reach"  but the "new boy and Cadillac", are definite possibilities.  What is really here, however, is the bottom end of The Portobello Road . . . which also has song lyrics, thanks to Disney and the film Bedknobs and Broomsticks.

Portobello road, Portobello road,
Street where the riches of ages are stowed.
Anything and everything a chap can unload
Is sold off the barrow in Portobello road.
You’ll find what you want in the Portobello road.  

 It wasn't a weekend, so the market was somewhat diminished but entertaining none the less.  The bottom, or Ladbroke Grove end, as opposed to the top, or Notting Hill end was mostly stalls selling produce and the permanent shops were run of the mill grocers, haberdashers, clothing and newsagents.  Just because the market is a tourist attraction doesn't mean that isn't meant to service the local community.  

The actual market runs roughly two miles up the road and has several distinct sections.  There is of course the previously mentioned Fruit and Veg section near Elgin Crescent, where we saw a policeman on horseback all decked out in traditional "bobby" gear. They, the horse and his rider, were ambling down the road chatting with the pedestrian and stall operators.  At one stall the proprietor selected a bright green apple and gave it to the horse, which he calmly munched dripping apple bits and juice everywhere.  The policeman, however, was on his own for snacks.  

The Second Hand Goods market is exactly what it's name says, a glorified flea market offering anything from a used stereo to a three piece suite (living room sofa and two chairs), as well as cast off Marks and Spencers clothes, golf clubs, shoes and everything in between.  If you're really the young and trendy, up at the top near Notting Hill and the Antiques Section, you will find the Fashion Market.  There is plenty of new stuff some of appearing to be quite upmarket, but the stuff that caught my eye were vendors selling such fashionable ware as vintage hand bags, another had vintage lace and linens, two more with costume jewellery and another who specialised in vintage fur coats.  There were rack upon rack of shoes, t-shirts and messenger bags emblazoned with LONDON or PORTOBELLO MARKET or other unmentionable phrases.  

Portobello Road

                           

The last section, the ANTIQUES MARKET, was mostly closed down since Saturday is their main trading day. There were a few shops open and others with window displays of gilt framed pictures, clocks of various vintages, silver serve ware, etc.  The top two thirds of the market had no stalls in the street, though some of the shops goods spilled higgledy, piggledy out on to the sidewalk.  On the weekend I understand the entire stretch has market stalls with canopies over them and the crowds are horrendous. 

Last stop the Squares, lovely oasis in the midst of the city.  Surrounded on four sides by stately buildings and landscaped with trees and shrubs, benches and fountain, they are a refuge from the hustle and bustle.  We stroll past London College where the inscription over one of the doorways was, School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, one wonders.  But then again not really, the Brits did a good job at colonising remote outposts where hygiene and tropical diseases were a real issue. 

Borrowed Image of Bedford Square

We leisurely strolled for several hours, around and through fifteen or more squares.  Often we found building with plaques detailing notable citizens who had once resided in these building.  Each square had it's own distinct style and clientele.  Some had pushchairs and prams, others students reading, one at least had a small tea shop and, Tavistock Square contained a bust of Virginia Woolf (one of my favourite authors) as well as a statue of Ghandi, and a peace memorial.   This is the area referred to as Bloomsbury, the stomping grounds of the likes of Lytton Strachey, Clive & Vanessa Bell, Rupert Brooke, Maynard Keynes and  Leonard and Virginia Woolf.  You probably don't want me to get started on this subject, Vita Sackville-West, Bertrand Russel, etal., but for what it is worth,  I own a number of books on these people and the era in which this was there habitat, which I would be happy to lend out.

Virginia & I

We finished our evening with a West End play, or more precisely a musical,
Matilda.  The story is based on a Roald Dahl childrens book and is about Matilda Wormwood, an exceptionally smart and talented and shall we say surprisingly sophisticated little girl with ordinary (think Monty Python) and rather mercenary and unpleasant parents.   The over the top, monster of the play was Miss Trunchbull, the headmistress of Crunchem Hall Primary School, played by a man in drag.  It was everything you could possibly want in crazy, predictable, slapstick fun, with, of course, a happy ending.

 Last call before heading out to the West Country, Hampton Court Palace.  This is one of my favorite buildings because, despite its size it feels intimate.  It was originally built by Cardinal Wolsey, enough history lessons, you're on your own on this one.  He in turn gave it to Henry VIII who turned it in to a Royal Residence. We didn't have a

Henry VIII Dining Room

lot of time but did mange to get through the Royal Apartments.  We ended up having to miss out the grounds and possibly some other pieces of the building,  btw the Olympics has hit even Hampton Court, they were dismantling bleachers from a UK2012 celebration concert and getting ready for whatever it was they need to do to be part of some cycling event. 

Things I have learned

1. Fly tipping refers to dumping, so a sign saying no fly tipping, really has nothing to do with those annoying flying things and everything to do with not dumping garbage.   
2. Ned Ludd, whose name was appropriated by the Luddites, was born and raised in Anstey, the next village over from Groby.  
3. Heard a new spin on the phase "As different as chalk from cheese".  In essence as different as apples and oranges but the proposed derivation is that the hilltops are chalk and as such dry and not particularly arable while the lowlands are lush with grass and support large herds of cows which produce milk and thus cheese. 
4. ABC, an acronym Carol heard from a Aussie tourist, Another Bloody Church, Another Bloody Cathedral, Another Bloody Castle. 
5. Palace vs Castle - A castle is meant for defense, safety is the major concern; decoration and form are secondary.  A palace, on the other hand, is a building designed for leisure providing a diversion to the King and the other people residing with him.  A palace should have spacious halls, decoration and comfort is the primary driver. 

Tapestry

Hampton Court