Category Archives: Street market

TOURS IN THE TIME OF COVID (With a nod to Gabriel García Márquez)

The cut-out policeman looks so real I nearly wished it Good Morning!!

Before Covid, we’d been on bus tours in Spain and to Prague, Vienna and Budapest, and on River Tours on the Rhine and the Danube, but now our tours seem to be confined to Tours of London Supermarkets.

I was born and brought up in the East End of London, then a poor, mainly Jewish district. We lived in a cold-water tenement on the third floor of Wentworth Dwellings in what was known as Petticoat Lane, though Petticoat Lane hasn’t existed as such for nearly 300 years. After a boundary rearrangement it was renamed Middlesex Street. We first lived in a third floor flat opening onto Goulston Street and then in one overlooking Wentworth Street, both streets crowded with food stalls on weekdays.

My mother went shopping every day – there were no fridges in the 1930s. We tried to stop milk going sour, and butter melting, by storing them in a mesh-fronted cupboard on our tiny balcony. We were rarely successful. There always seemed to be a cheesecloth bag hanging from the kitchen tap with soured milk turning into cream cheese.

One of my chores was to buy our bread, usually from Kossoff’s bakery opposite. If the total added up to a few pennies and one farthing (¼ penny), the assistants would tell me to forget the odd farthing, rather than bother to give me three farthings in change. My mother wouldn’t accept charity from anyone, so, having climbed the six sets of steep stone stairs to our flat on the third floor, I would have to go down again and take the farthing to the shop.

Now, of course, we have fridges and freezers and in a district like ours, where individual food shops have virtually disappeared, we shop once a week in supermarkets, not daily – usually Tesco or Sainsburys and occasionally Waitrose.

My favourite white bread flour is Allison’s Very Strong White Bread Flour. I first found it in Tesco but the last time I was about to run out they no longer had any in stock. I ordered some online from Amazon Fresh (Morrisons) but the road works in Victoria blocked the lorry entrance to our flats. To my chagrin, the delivery driver gave up and took my shopping back to the warehouse.

I saw online that both ASDA and Morrisons stock that flour and decided to visit each of them for the first time. Both are designed to make everything look as if it is at a cheaper price – some definitely cheaper than in our usual supermarkets but sometimes just less in the packet, so not really any cheaper.

After our Tour in the Time of Covid, we’ll stick to Tesco and Sainsburys alternately – we like some versions of our favourite products in one and some in the other. We’ll make an occasional trip to Waitrose – the most spacious feeling of them, for things not available at our usual stores.

However, when I next run out, if Tesco and Sainsburys don’t have my favourite flour in stock, I’ll make up a delivery order from ASDA or Morrisons, rather negotiating the nightmare junction that is at Elephant and Castle, and traipsing up the Old Kent Road or Walworth Road.

Read more of Abby’s stories in her memoir ‘Woman in a White Coat’ and her previous posts Abby’s Tales of Then and Now. You can Look Inside on the Amazon site and get a taster for free. ‘Woman in a White Coat’ is £2.99 for the Kindle version and £9.99 in paperback. ‘Abby’s Tales of Then and Now’ is £2.99 for the Kindle version and £12.99 for the 7” x 9” paperback. Both are illustrated in colour.
Woman in a White Coat



Where are our street markets?


Queuing for street food
Queuing for street food

Instead of street markets selling fruit and vegetables, fabric, clothes and bric-a-brac they’re all swapping to street food concessions. This queue of mainly young men was three times as long as in the photo.

When I was a young house surgeon there was a great street market nearby. After admitting a woman with a turkey bone stuck in her throat I had perfect fruit and vegetables from then on.

Extract from my memoir Woman in a White Coat

It was the day after Boxing Day. Everyone was feeling rather fragile, and my ENT registrar was decidedly hung over.

‘Just speak very quietly,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and sit in the surgeons’ lounge.’

My bleep went.

‘It’s Sister in Casualty. I think you’re on call for the ENT department. Can you come over, Dr Waterman?’

A very large elderly woman was sitting in Casualty, holding the hand of an equally elderly, but extremely thin, man. Jack Sprat, I thought.

‘It’s my false teeth, you see,’ she said. ‘They hurt something awful, and as it was just turkey stew I took them out to eat. No need to chew those small bits. My Sadie made it with the leftovers from Christmas Day. I only had a mouthful when something stuck in my throat. I tried gargling with salt water and ate a couple of pieces of dry bread. Nothing helped. I reckon I’ve got a bit of turkey bone stuck in there. It’s no better this morning. Haven’t been able to eat a thing. Sadie’s a bit lazy, like. She should have been more careful, stripping the turkey carcass.’

‘There, there, dear,’ her husband said, patting her fat little hand. ‘Don’t be hard on our Sadie. She tries her best.’

‘Can you walk over with me to the Ear, Nose and Throat department?’ I asked. ‘Or shall I get someone to take you over in a wheelchair.’

‘I’ll be fine, lovey. I’ll just take it nice and slow,’ she said, as she waddled after me, clinging on to her husband’s arm. Continue reading Where are our street markets?