Only one more of these to post that I’m happy with after today, so that’s why there’s been the gap. Today’s is a mostly true account of how I went to Brick Lane. It’s a collection of three different trips, merged into one as if to attempt to make something worth writing about. I hope you enjoy it, and as ever, feedback’s more than welcome. Cheers
Brick Lame, Beigel Lane
Brick Lane. Situated in what’s supposedly the cultural hub of London’s E1 postcode and supposedly both warm and accepting, you’ll find the cold, drunken and pretentious of the district sprawling the bars by night and crowding the streets by day.
Solace can however be found in a good old-fashioned beigel. In a street-titled store you find the warmth from both ovens and staff, value that reminds you of the area’s humble beginnings and a tasty baked good with a hole in the middle, reflecting the generally overcooked brains and cultural holes in the neo-natives of the East side.
I’m tapped on the shoulder, not to be told that my Converse are “so last summer” but instead by a friendly tourist filming a documentary. “This is the real London” he asks me to say into the camera, I wish it was.
Take care of each other