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.
Time to leave the market behind and wander up to the party. I’d decided to take the bus up and avoid the long walk past Millfields Park. I waited but the promised bus was taking its time. In the end I jumped on a bus that would take me part way, meaning to catch up with the ‘good’ bus after that. Sadly, once in, I spotted that good bus just behind us and, since the ‘wrong’ bus turned down another street before making its stop, I was too late to make the transfer. It was one of those things that is much funnier later than it is at the time.
There was nothing for it but to walk the rest of the way. It really isn’t far, anyway. On the first bus, when I asked the driver if he was going up to Millfields Park, I got a typically British response from one of the riders. ‘You just walk up the road and you’re there,’ he protested. ‘Yes,’ I answered him, ‘But some days walking just isn’t in the cards.’ I have always found this a big difference from what I might encounter in Toronto. Ask for directions there and you’ll hear, ‘Oh, that’s a long walk. You can take the streetcar over there.’ Contrasts in attitude!
The park is a big one, but it’s a park… The thing I didn’t photograph was that, on my left, I could see a football game in full swing, then further along – two cricket matches. Sports is alive in the pandemic. This is a British Sunday, after all.
Lea Bridge Road goes from a very urban Clapton, over the bridge for the River Lea and then onwards through a very large conservation area including Hackney Marshes. Along here you’ll also find equestrian areas and a large ice rink. The fact it’s Hackney can escape you for a while – it could be rural.
At the top of Millfields Park, is Lea Bridge Road. I was headed for the Princess of Wales pub. On the way, there are a few little buildings that caught my eye. The one below is the Happitime Playgroup (nursery school) which has evaded my research, but this little corner is called Old Paradise Works. There are three furniture shops and an interior design studio. I think this building might have housed a small furniture factory, judging by its rather industrial chimney.
The Princess of Wales Pub always looks enticing from the bus when you cross the River Lea. My legs didn’t want to take me that view but this is the view from the small street that runs adjacent to Lea Bridge Road. The river is directly behind. The pub is a historical one, an Edwardian public house in an Arts and Crafts/Queen Anne style, dating from 1861. Originally, the Prince of Wales pub, it was renamed the Princess of Wales in 1995. I had meant to take a lot of river pictures but today I was late for the party and pressed on.
The pub garden had some decently distanced picnic tables. It was easy to stay away from even the people who I was seated with. I surprised myself by ordering two small dishes (I hadn’t eaten lunch). Each was disappointing and I had a few mouthfuls and gave up. However, perhaps I should have stuck with my original plan to get some chips from this overpriced barbecue hut. I stayed to chat, handed over my gift, then stayed a little bit longer to have a slice of the cake and away.
I’m not sure there’s any way to lessen the disappointment another person might feel because you’re not able to fully participate. I’m a people pleaser but I’m not suicidal or a door mat. My ability to worry is right up there, and my ability to be selfish is poor but increasing. Maybe that’s the best I can hope for.