Brick Lane Art

The sun has finally returned to London. Weak and cold it may be, but it is the perfect excuse to rediscover Brick Lane.

There are three main reasons to go to Brick Lane on a Sunday:

1} You are hungry
2} You are hungover
3} You are in need of a London indie culture slap

Point the first. As well as the small stall holders and cafes on Brick Lane itself, there are markets dotted off either side. They are chocked full of independent food stalls – sushi, baking, curry, crepes, wraps, skewers and falafels galore. Everything is fresh, colourful and smells so damn good. Fair warning, around lunchtime it gets really crowded – but go with a full wallet, empty bladder and lots of patience and you will be fine.

Point the second. You can get super strong coffee and seriously cheap bagels on Brick Lane. The bagels are infamous, two stores meters apart selling salmon and cream cheese bagels for around £1.50. Hangover cure TICK.

And the last point/fair warning. Brick Lane is very ‘Shoredich’. It is full of so many Indie/alternative kids that you will feel like you forgot to wear the uniform. But if you feel at all insecure, just remember that their army jackets are from H&M, the frowns are because they are hungry and pop princess Miley Cyrus rocks the exact same shaved hairstyle.

This is without mentioning treasure trove vintage shops, the chance to buy from up and coming designers, some of the best (and ever changing) graffiti in London, hilarious buskers, a shop with cats, cool jewellery, loud music, chess competitions and epic crowd watching.

Next sunny Sunday, get amongst it.


For those of you who watch QI, you will know that carrots were not always orange. They were bred to be orange by some fancy pants dude in the Netherlands to honour royalty*.

I have known this for a while, and although I eat a carrot every day for lunch I have never seen any other variety. That was until my trip to Borough Market at the weekend, where ta da! there they were.

Now on the internet for all to see, the original rainbow carrots.

*this may be a myth, but for the purpose of this blog it will have to do


On one of the last sunny days in London, I ventured to Greenwich. I intended to go to the Astronomy Photographer of the Year exhibition at the Royal Observatory, but got completely distracted by Greenwich Market.

It was not just that it had a tasty food section (my god was it tasty). And it wasn’t that it had beautifully crafted art, jewellery and other notions just begging to be bought. It was the lovely hearts hanging over our heads, overseeing the entire proceedings.

The big hearts had each been decorated in a different style. My favourite was the blue number above. But there were also one made entirely out of old furniture, one designed as a target and one that was a giant shattered mirror. I liked that they were not shoved in your face. Rather they were there to be looked if at if you wanted a quiet moment amongst the crowds.

The hearts also act as part of the markets marketing campaign of ‘I heart Greenwich Market’. Quite, stealthy, cleaver and lovely.


The other day, as I was walking through Borough Market, I found some of my favourite Portuguese Custard Tarts. Now if you want to read about my tart obsession, read my earlier post, this post is about something else entirely. This post is about bees. Yes, bees.

There were three bees hanging out on the tarts. When I pointed this out to the stall holder, he calmly picked each of the bees up by the wings and threw them away. He had ninja like accuracy, and the bravery of a tiger.

He picked up the bees and threw them away. Consider my mind blown.

And yes, I ate two.