I suppose I should take photos of London so you get a sense of place.  Maybe later today.  But I’m not drawn to the buildings and street scenes.  I’m drawn to the conversations.

I like saying hello.  Often when I say “Good morning” here, the response is “All right?”  Cool.  When in Rome …

I’ve eaten twice at a tiny breakfast place called The Café.  It’s run by a beaming Turkish man named Saza.  He welcomes everyone – regular or stranger.  Exactly what the world deserves.

I’ve watched Saza as he sees someone he knows approaching the restaurant.  Before they hit the front steps, he’s launched into making their drink.

I asked him about knowing the regulars’ beverages.  How many people?  >  “100?  Maybe 200.”

Wow.

***

On the tube yesterday, I saw a young mother with a very young daughter.  I couldn’t hear the words well, but mom was asking a lot of questions starting with “Is it …?”  The girl threw her hands in the air again and again, laughing and saying “No, No!”  They were both having fun.

As I got up to leave, I leaned over to the woman and said “Good mom”.  She smiled.

***

Last night I returned to The Spread Eagle pub for dinner.  I had pie and mash again.  Yummy.  There was a green sauce on the plate and I asked the bartender what it was.  >  “It’s a parsley sauce called ‘liquor’.”

The next thing I knew, the guy to my right at the bar was educating me further  >  “Pie and mash is traditional London food, usually accompanied by stewed eels.  You add parsley to the eel water … and there’s your liquor.”  Tomie went on to explain that the word refers to “liquid”, not alcohol.  Oh … it’s a steep UK learning curve for this Belgian Canadian!

Tomie sat at the bar with Marie, his wife of 41 years.  The love was still alive in their faces.

At one point, between giving me recommendations for places to eat, Tomie motioned towards a woman standing at the far end of the room.  “That’s Sherry, the owner, and she gives all us local folks a 10% discount.”

I talked to Tomie, Marie, Sherry and the two bartenders.  I beheld their smiles.  And a word came to my lips … family.

I’ll be back.

***

Tonight I went searching for dark East End alleys and streets.  But the City of London believes in lighting everything up.  Oh well.

Here are some scenes:

A street sale closing up shop

In the photo below, “Why the ‘WOMEN’ sign?” you ask.

In 1868 the Providence Row Night Refuge moved to Crispin Street in Whitechapel.  Its manager said this:

“The poverty which exists in the middle of us: some thirty or forty persons die of starvation in London most years while hundreds more sleep on the bridges, in Trafalgar Square or outside the park railings, in the drifting rain or the driving snow.”  In the courts and alleys, he said, were families “hungry and cold, who could scarcely support a life of misery, sleeping on the floors with the winter winds seeping through the broken windows.”

The Refuge, which was generally full, provided shelter for 140 men and 112 women.

I stood there tonight …

***

And that, my friends, is all for today