Sunday, 6 September, 2020
My friend was having a birthday party. Such things right now worry me quite a lot. How do I balance my worries of being around other people with my desire to celebrate with a dear friend? It would be outside in a pub garden, I was assured, but still I hesitated. For one thing (and in a major way) she lives in an area that’s recording the second highest rates of infection in the borough. All the guidance says that this population needs to stay away from others. How foolhardy would I be to say yes? How awful would I feel if I said no? I compromised by saying I’d be happy to drop by for an hour as long as it was outside and then I determined not to get too close to anyone.
One way I’m able to soothe the fear and worry is think about how I can make the best of an outing. Invariably, this means taking photographs and thinking ahead to what I might be able to do while out – maximising the effort. I’m not sure if this is sound thinking but it will do. For me, at least.
Part of my compromise with myself was to walk through Chatsworth Sunday market to see how it was faring right now. I do love the street, and the market can be colourful and interesting. There’s a little deli that might have something interesting to take home with me, too.
The bus sped along Homerton High Street without stopping in at the hospital. I’d forgotten about the construction on Homerton Row. This just meant more walking to retrace the route to go up Chatsworth Road. Not so bad. It was a lovely day and that helped.
The market was underway, smaller than usual. Most disappointingly, like most other East End markets, the food stalls and trucks have taken over. There’s little else going on. I love looking at the food offers but it’s honestly feeling a little tedious by now. Perhaps if the quality were to improve or the prices were to go lower (I’m happy with small dishes to compensate for this) I’d feel better. It’s like the let down feeling when someone you’ve discovered some time ago goes mainstream and loses it appeal as it changes or sometimes degrades. Or perhaps I’m just a snob.
A note about Percy Ingles Bakers. A sad one. The bakery was founded in East London in 1954, by Percy Ingle. His grandsons were running it until they announced they were closing up. I grew up with this bakery, on the Roman Road at the top of the market. As a child, there was nothing better than the luridly pink iced buns, the chocolate cornflake cakes, the lovely slabs of bread pudding, and the many hot meat and other pies I so often grabbed more recently when hungry for a quick lunch while out. It turns out that the very first Percy Ingles bakery was on Clarence Road! There hasn’t been one there for a long time but there was one at the top of the Narrow Way, close to Clarence Road. The store on Chatsworth Road shows its rebranding to just Ingles, its new colours making it look more modern and stylish. In the end, it didn’t matter. Covid-19 was the final straw.
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