The last weekend of Summer
Sep. 3rd, 2013 09:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
millionreasonsSaturday, we went to the Urban Food Fest in a car park on Shoreditch High Street. It was crawling with the young and fashionable; you literally cannot keep hipsters away from street-food. If there's a street and some food, they'll be there. I had a vegeburger, which comprised two portobelllo mushrooms, cheese, rocket, grilled veg and smoky ketchup. It was OK. The only street-food I really like is from the Indian stall on Broadway Market and now that they've opened a restaurant, there's no need to eat out of a styrofoam carton whilst precariously balancing one's possessions anymore. I also bought a strawberry tart and stood on the petrol station forecourt to eat it, as we'd given up our hard-fought table. This is Shoreditch life. We wandered into ur-Shoreditch and found a nice pub, which played old music for old people (Smiths, Cure, 70s reggae, The Specials) and sunk real ale (not craft beer). Shoreditch is now going through its third incarnation (since I've lived in London), from dump to cool hang-out to tourist-ruined hell-hole. It's much easier for people from (say) Southend to get the train up to Fenchurch St and walk (totter) or bus it up to E1 rather than go up west. By 11 p.m., the last Saturday night of August was humming with fake tan, vomit and police-cars. We 243-d the hell out of there.
Sunday, we mosied on down to the Angel Canal Festival for boats, Punch and Judy, WI fairy cakes, bric-a-brac, crafts, fairground rides, the angels of Angel, celebs (Jenny Jones from The Green Party, and Russell Tovey, accompanied by handsome (boy)friend and dog), and bubble tea, which, instead of tapioca, had fruit shoot bursts of mango juice in it. It was odd, but not unpleasant. There were also animals. Dave and Claire paid to fondle some birds and I took the photos:
I noticed that the men chose the hawks, kestrels and eagles and women chose the cutey ones (if I'd done it, I would've gone for a cappuccino covered barn owl or a tiny tiny owlet hiding under its sign). Claire chose a bird that looked like a toy owl, one that would wear a mortar board and gown in a cartoon. I made the mistake of stroking its wing and it gave me the filthiest look. Their eyes were so expressive:- the tawny that tried to escape and was put back on its perch by the handler gave such a hurt, impassioned plea to its owner. The eagle Dave held was stoic, staring straight ahead. On another stall, a man got people to stroke his snake. And chameleons, gekkos, lizards and, erk, a tarantula. I don't have a phobia of either snakes or spiders, but that doesn't mean I want them crawling all over me, although I was pleased to see two little girls not shrieking but holding the arachnid and the boa constrictor, although less pleased when one of the girls kept pushing the snake's head toward me, saying: "It won't bite!". The animal man was a bit too trusting: in the crowd, it would've been quite easy to put an animal in a bag or for some horrible teens to start throwing things around, although maybe he packed up before it got too raucous.
Sunday, we mosied on down to the Angel Canal Festival for boats, Punch and Judy, WI fairy cakes, bric-a-brac, crafts, fairground rides, the angels of Angel, celebs (Jenny Jones from The Green Party, and Russell Tovey, accompanied by handsome (boy)friend and dog), and bubble tea, which, instead of tapioca, had fruit shoot bursts of mango juice in it. It was odd, but not unpleasant. There were also animals. Dave and Claire paid to fondle some birds and I took the photos:
I noticed that the men chose the hawks, kestrels and eagles and women chose the cutey ones (if I'd done it, I would've gone for a cappuccino covered barn owl or a tiny tiny owlet hiding under its sign). Claire chose a bird that looked like a toy owl, one that would wear a mortar board and gown in a cartoon. I made the mistake of stroking its wing and it gave me the filthiest look. Their eyes were so expressive:- the tawny that tried to escape and was put back on its perch by the handler gave such a hurt, impassioned plea to its owner. The eagle Dave held was stoic, staring straight ahead. On another stall, a man got people to stroke his snake. And chameleons, gekkos, lizards and, erk, a tarantula. I don't have a phobia of either snakes or spiders, but that doesn't mean I want them crawling all over me, although I was pleased to see two little girls not shrieking but holding the arachnid and the boa constrictor, although less pleased when one of the girls kept pushing the snake's head toward me, saying: "It won't bite!". The animal man was a bit too trusting: in the crowd, it would've been quite easy to put an animal in a bag or for some horrible teens to start throwing things around, although maybe he packed up before it got too raucous.
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