Loose end Sundays

I never like feeling I've wasted a weekend.  I don't have to have grand plans; you won’t find me scaling the nearest mountain or sky diving from a tiny tin-can aeroplane, but I have to do something, and that usually involves what I like to call ‘mooching’, and no, for those not familiar with the phrase, it is not a dirty word. In order to ‘mooch’ one needs retail outlets, and preferably ones that sell whimsical things that aren’t necessary for you to function in everyday life. Supermarkets don’t really count, unless we are talking Harrods Food Hall, and neither do DIY stores, no not even Ikea. We’re talking the kind of cutesy boutiques that sell things that would fall under the ‘shabby chic’ umbrella, or funkier, prettier versions of regular items you already have at home like tin openers and door stops.  You don't even need to replace your current ones, but you know your life would become so much better if every morning you were greeted with the sight of that vintage biscuit tin or better still that gorgeous pastel pink cake stand.  I could ogle for hours and yet never buy stuff.  It’s like QVC, but I’m out and about and not on the sofa, so when someone asks you what you did at the weekend, you can actually say, 'Oh I went to blah-blah, and had a look around'.  They are always much less impressed if you say you surfed the shopping channels from your sofa, in pyjamas, drinking tea.

Last Sunday morning was a brilliant mooching day spent with my sister at the Columbia Road Flower Market in East London. A not quite Autumn, but not really Summer either day, meant the conditions were perfect for a mooch around. The street is lined on both sides with proper Cockney geezer flower sellers clamouring for your custom. They have everything from roses and lilies to herbs and bedding plants. We were on the lookout for a pot plant for Emma's new office, but we knew that lugging a giant Yucca around would severely impede our mission to wander in and out of the shops. Once our promenade down the centre of the street was complete, we about-turned and deviated to the pavement so we could get a better look at the shops. They were absolutely perfect, and I have to admit that on more than one occasion I was sorely tempted to purchase. The wholesale china shop did some brilliant cut price white porcelain pieces, meanwhile Treacle not only sold scrumptious looking cupcakes, but had a great range of vintage cookware, that left me cursing the 23kg weight limit on my baggage allowance for my return flight.

Over-excited by the array of beautiful but unnecessary items within my grasp it was time for a culinary distraction in the form of Café Columbia. This was a totally non-poncey (but therefore cool) place, only open on Sunday’s, and they've been doing the same thing for 30 years now. The offering is simple; order at the counter a bagel and choose from a variety of fillings such as traditional smoked salmon & cream cheese, breakfast bagel or cheese, asparagus, tomato and rocket and don’t forget a mug of tea. Head out the back to the courtyard garden and grab a seat if you can. Still a little bit hungry after departing Café Columbia, a few doors up is another terraced house, whose front room has been converted into a kiosk randomly selling mini pots of calamari with lemon wedges and king prawns with aioli. I can rarely say no to calamari, and this was good, crispy batter and not at all chewy. We munched along happily, eventually returning to our starting point, stopping a while to check out the trilby hat wearing double bass band outside the pub. The mooch about was coming to an end, as really there is only so long you can browse for without real purpose. We continued on via Brick Lane where there was supposed to be an Indian food festival, but as far as I could see this just involved sticking a few tables outside their restaurants, whilst the waiters were more insistent than usual that you should take a table. I told one of them that I really wasn't hungry (how could I have been?) and he told me that he could tell I was, as he could see it on my face.  Maybe he was confusing fear over hunger.  What a great sales strategy - bullying. We eventually escaped unharmed and rewarded ourselves with a much needed coffee on Brushfield Street just opposite Spitalfields Market. A perfect end to a lazy watching the world go by Sunday. I didn't actually have anything to show for my efforts, but that's not the point, at least I wasn't at home lounging around in pyjamas and drinking tea.  That could wait until we got home.