A walking tour through Borough Market
Christmas in Borough Market
'Do you know the Muffin Man, the muffin man, the muffin man ... this gentleman lived on Drury Lane, yet it’s the ditty that lingers when I dart across the road towards Borough Market.
The days of street sellers, fish mongers, fruit sellers and street food. Days of Shakespeare, highwaymen, and royal scandals. When London Bridge was fully dressed up with shops and houses bridging the waters. Travellers wanting to enter the city of London needing to cross before dusk, for the bridge was closed at night. Danger always lurking.
Eating Oysters scooped from its muddy banks. Cockles and whelks, and eels. Plenty of eels to be had.
London old and new.
Taking the Tooley street exit, a dash across the road and Borough Market lies before you, part still firmly locked in history and part a global menu. It’s noisy, atmospheric and pumps to a constant beat. There are halls and alleyways, shopfronts and barrows. Cold hands-on hot steam and hot summer glowing. Dead fish eyes stare, packed with ice, surrounded by sea urchins. Paella. Wines from France and cupcakes from Hackney. This is true market, food market with fancy and simple and those calling customers to taste, tempt and hope to make a sale.
I like my coffee from Monmouth. I like their croissants too, try to resist when so much else is on offer. Then I order one anyway and still find deliciousness in a host of food angels.
Mushroom garden.
Everyone takes endless photographs of Mushroom baskets, crushed fruit juice, the fish, the dead rabbits. Instagram opportunity, pushing for prime position, just there, next to the cheese toastie.
On the walking tours, we stop at Richard Harris’ oyster stall. Guests are told more about the oysters, where they breed them and why they became so pricey. Some taste, some think it’s too early in the day for oysters. The cheese toastie is a popular option.
The pies are too. More about the origin of the pie and the image of various pie men plying their trade in Shakespeare’s time is the image I create.. A pie man and a playwriter. A jig and jellied eels. Life was very tough, money tight. Food scare and disease plentiful, so give us a bit of ‘umble pie and a swig of ale m’lord.
Victorian soot and fog made for a dingy, dodgy lit place, bursting with ruffians. Survived the wars, barely, and a few London Bridges too. There is a bit of my fair lady, heads on a bridge. Partly scruff and partly posh. Food that will blow your tastebuds, place of Bridget Jones. Borough Market is a fabulous destination for Londoners and those visiting, wanting to witness authentic life in the city.
Sated and surprised in some small way or another, it’s goodbye. Late afternoon and the glimmer of dusk on the waters of the Thames beckons to the Southbank. Bought too much bread that looked so pretty. For the ducks and seagulls and swans.
'Do you know the muffin man ... the muffin man, the muffin man ...' Sort of think I do.
Setting up dead fish and cold ice.