A day out; Borough Market and along the Thames to Charing Cross

What with the prospect of losing our own supplies of pasture raised meat and dairy in favour of a cheaper and somewhat inferior commodity from the USA, I came to the conclusion it was time to go hunting for some 'good' stuff.
Yes, I reasoned, I would pay more for the privilege but as I have read somewhere;
" what you pay to the farmer today, saves paying it to the pharmaceutical companies later on", and I want wellness, not illness in my final years.
I am lucky enough to live in Kent, and we are blessed with numerous farmers markets, one in fact, coming to our town each month, but it doesn't have the variety, something I have become used to over the years of Spanish imports.
I wanted to find that supply.
I wanted to taste vegetables with the full flavour I remember from my youth when the birds followed the tractor and pretty much everything grown was truly organic. I wanted to see the mud on the crops and the words 'organically grown'.
I wanted more.

So here I am, at London Bridge, indulging in a smorgasbord of delights, from meats to fresh fish, vegetables to fruits and brews to herbal mixtures. The smell of ripened cheeses filled my nose as did the smell of the sea, all around the oyster bar People jostled to get their oysters, their Indian, their Jamaican trays out of the crush and find a wall or small piece of peace to stand in and eat their purchases. Others moved through the crowd with doughnuts, still warm and half eaten, munching away as the jam, or cream dripped from their mouths, sugar coating their lips like frosting.
I headed for the cafe at the centre of the market. Its been there since the start of the market I reckon, and serves the best bubble and squeak I've ever known. Hot, freshly made and steaming in the cold of the day, platefuls of it were being served up with beans, or burger, or as part of a full English. 
I had a mug of tea, made in the large stainless pot and brewed til its almost black. With half that and half boiling water added, the tea was hot, strong and beautiful. 
Refreshed I went in search of some bits and pieces and found, at last the one place I knew was here, The Olive Oil Company.

These people make some of the best olive oil infusions I have found so I splashed out with a bottle of black truffle infusion and some regular oregano infusion. 
If you've not had a black truffle infusion, try some, its earthy, peppery with a back-of-the-throat kick. I imagine it would be wonderful on beef but I know its great with mushrooms and that was my aim.
So, two bottles of oil and the few groceries I managed to pick up, I came to the conclusions;
Number 1 - I would come back once a month
Number 2 - I would avoid Saturdays like the plague!!

With half a dozen free range eggs in my bag, lovingly wrapped in my bobble hat for security, I headed for Costa over the road .. two things were on my mind, the need for the toilet and a desire for a really nice warm place with a really gorgeous latte. Bliss.

I managed one out of the two, the coffee was brilliant, the toilet, out of order.

I was not far from the station itself (its really within spitting distance of the market, and Costa's) so I went back into the station and looked around. I knew where they were by two things, the sign pointing that way and the group of men standing with cases and bags looking forlornly at a long line of women. Yep, that's the toilets, always a queue and it ain't for the mens.
The barriers had swallowed my ticket when I came out so I had to decide if I would walk to Charing Cross or use my Oyster. I came to the conclusion the bag didn't seem too heavy so I'd walk; it'd do me good and it would be a nice way to see the river.

Coming back out of the station I headed toward the bridge and went onto the north side for a while. The cross rail development is going strong over here and roads around Cannon Street were closed to traffic. It was lovely walking along and not having to dodge the buses, and walking in the road was a novelty I thoroughly enjoyed.



I made the mistake of not taking the second set of stairs down to Lower Thames Street and ended up doing a bit of a loop along Arthur Street. Interesting though and in my meanderings came across the Wells Fargo Centre... amazing what is displayed in shop windows if only people would look. I'd already seen the carcass of a racing car and a mannequin in, I presume, the winning driver's one piece suit.

After a short walk I arrived at the Millennium Bridge, and knowing there were some small images on the bridge itself, I decided to cut across to the south bank and then head up to the stands and stalls by the BFI Centre. If you ever get to cross this bridge, keep your eyes open for these tiny little insignias, made I think, by Banksie. They blend in rather well with the chewing gum trodden into the grooves by ill-mannered people, but these have colour and say things. Worth a look anyway, and is good fun for children to hunt for as the go across.

The bag was getting heavy by now and my shoulder was telling me all about the fact it would have preferred me to use the Oyster, but the walk was good albeit my back hurt and my right hip was now playing up something rotten 😧. I knew things were getting bad when I started overheating and the sweat started trickling.....pain.....yes, I hear you but this is neither the time nor the place.

The sight of the Black friars station and then the book stalls at Southwark told me I was reaching the destination. I arrived at Southbank itself and realised, feeding time had begun. The stalls were open and the punters were gathering like seagulls outside a fish and chip shop.
Time to go.
I waked across the bridge and looked forward to a cuppa on the station, then a train home.
I was hurting and sadly the final thirty minutes had been lost in a haze but the rest had been great.

Next time, I promised myself, I would come up on a Thursday and I would bring my trolley with a cooler box inside, there's a free range chicken with my name on it and I'm keen to taste the bird roasted with vegetables cooked in coconut oil.
Delicious! 

On arriving home, I unpacked. Everything was still intact including the butter! The eggs were fine and went straight into the fridge. The two leaflets were grabbed and placed somewhere in the kitchen so I wouldn't lose sight of them and everything else went into cupboards or on shelves.
That was it, I was exhausted, but elated. The train journey had been a nice rest and the walk back to the car had been a lot less painful than I had expected (but I had put my neck back in joint whilst on the train), so all that was left was to collapse in my chair with a hot water bottle and a mug of tea.