Portobello Road

I'd forgotten what fun it could be to walk down Portobello Road on a sunny Saturday!
Tourists photographing wisteria and touching it as though it was an exotic silk curtain, easy listening record stalls, a stall with dozens of little silver sugar tongs all clutching at nothing with their little birdy claws, a stall with boxing gloves so huge and dark they looked like they were made of wood. On a fruit and vegetable stall, a stallholder's little girl with hair in plaits sat amongst the baskets of mushrooms and vine tomatoes, eating a massive strawberry, with strawberry juice all over her face, which wore an expression of utter happiness. On another stall with rows of delicate white patterned antique teacups, a massive pan of bacon and fried bread was cooking on a portable stove hidden by a little screen.
As I headed back home, two girl tourists were disentangling themselves from each other; their earrings had got tangled in each other's hair as they put their heads together to have their photograph taken.