Super Market

On Saturday morning, my blood pressure was once again in the realm of hyper-hypertensive, so I made the decision to forego the hectic sight-seeing for a leisurely day. Instead, at the fervent insistence of my host, I went to the Maltby Street Markets. Apparently, people come from other European countries to experience this market, so given that it was only a few hundred metres from my door, I thought I’d better check it out.
I wish I could have bottled the delicious aromas that wafted down the street. They were salty and warm and welcoming. If they were visible, they’d be a yellow orangy colour, like a tea bag first infusing.

I was overwhelmed by the amazing choices, but, as recommended, I sought a take-away Little Birdie gin. Before actually purchasing said gin, the bartender invited me to try a shot just straight. I’m not really one for quaffing gin, but I quaffed this one. It tasted like flowers and cucumber. So I took a cocktail to keep me company as I wandered the market and a bottle to keep me company when I return to oz.

#jonestip – You have to go to this market.  In addition to gin, there are also boutique beers and a deli.  Several stalls feature pulled pork.  You will be drunk from the atmosphere before anything actually touches your lips!

 I also partook of a cherry brownie, regretting that I hadn’t seen the Guinness ones earlier, and a flat-ironed, cheese sandwich.

I took photos of the food I missed out on, then stumbled home, giddy with gin and overstuffed with food.


Saturday was the last night I was spending in Bermondsey, so I made Emma and Iain a little watercoloured postcard featuring their home and their cats, which is today’s featured image.

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