weekending

Portobello road buskers

Nephews and friends' band More Like Trees

 images via,

via

I said I was too busy to go but then tagged along with 'A'  for the ride. He had meetings in London and while he was working I met up with his sister, and my sister P, and her husband. They've just moved to the metropolis, closer to their musician/artist sons, right in the heart of urban culture, with theatres, galleries and museums on their doorstep. I suggested we meet at Portobello road. There was no time for shopping we were too busy talking. Except for a nimble look in The Cloth Shop like a small child in a sweetshop. There's a feast in there for my eyes and finger tips, I touched the  incredible fabrics, the Swedish linen, vintage Hungarian flour sacks, Indian braid, Welsh blankets and bobbins of thread and bindings, all sorts of oddities. It was good to just look and admire...Oh and touch...I can't help touching...

We ate at Portobello organic kitchen. Tiny little pixi bowls of green soup, served with equally tiny warm white rolls. It was delicious, delicate but packed with flavour. I'm pretty sure that it was pea and parsley. Possibly the recipe here. 

Later my grown-up girl met up with us, with newly auburn hair all swept up and piled  on top of her head, looking gorgeous as usual. We spotted buskers. I love live-music. I applaud the musicians...I could never perform in public.  Not the best, but gutsy. Maybe I'm biased and think no-one can ever compare with my nephews' band. 

We took 'H' to Charlies for some lunch, and I tucked into Torta della Nonna. Pastry tart with lemon patisserie cream, topped with almonds, pine nuts and a dusting of sugar snow...Very naughty but very nice with crumbly melt in the mouth pastry...I found a recipe here if you'd like to make one yourself.

We circled the market stalls 'til the wind started howling and blowing things off them. They began to rattle and shake and looked as though they were about to launch. Metal pegs that kept the canvas roofs in place and shoe boxes scooped up and blew through the air, we had to duck to avoid them. Lightning lit the sky, the  heavens opened and thunder crashed. We got soaked to the skin, literally. It was so mild that no-one really minded, we just looked at each other and laughed. Then dashed for the tube, persuading my H to come back to A's sister, where we were staying, and have supper. Getting back just as the others arrived for an extended family and friends evening, cooking and eating and catching up...It was the best time. 

Sunday it was just me and A's sister. A grey, grey day with wind howling down the chimney...We had lots of plans but they all vanished when we looked through the window and decided it was preferable to remain pyjama clad watching Out of Africa, than brave the wind and rain. 

If you get a chance to re-watch it, do. It is beautiful and soppily romantic. The costumes are gorgeous and Meryl Streep at her most lovely. She even looked gorgeous with wet hair. It took us ages, literally hours, to watch the film as we 'oohed' and 'aahed', and paused, and rewound, so that we could check 'that' blouse or 'this' dress again, to see how it was made, discuss it and then plan our own, dream, 'Out of Africa' inspired summer wardrobe.

We made our way back to Oxford with the car bursting with jars and bottles. I even found a kilo jar of pure raw honey collected from Linden blossom in wild forests in Lithuania, complete with hand printed brown card label tied on with string. It was a very busy weekend...but oh so good...

I made plans with sis, P, to meet up in Camden Passage next time, to visit Loop. I can't wait...just imagine all those yarns...

linking with amanda