We started our weekend with a visit to Broadway Food Market in Hackney, and, if you can get to this hidden gem of a spot early enough on a Saturday afternoon, you will find yourself absolutely spoiled for choice. The stallholders on Broadway are a proud bunch with a love for what they do and the things that they’re selling. They also know very well that there will always be people willing to make the journey across town to pay hand-over-fist for such high quality produce; freshly baked breads; delicious cheeses, sweating and stinking in the warm summer air; absolutely beautiful fruit and veg; whole legs of Spanish ham displayed and carved-up right there on the open street. It was all very tempting, but instead of spoiling ourselves too early, we decided to push on and caught the train to Camden Road where we had a light lunch of  fish before settling on a plan to trek to Covent Garden. After all, it was a fine day for a walk and we have never been the sort to let the good weather go to waste.

The journey from Camden to Mornington Crescent can be quite a grim affair even at the best of times and it’s little wonder why so many guidebooks choose to omit this grubby patch of road from their listings. You can barely move for ten feet without running into a drug addict, a prostitute, or a petty hoodlum, and even in the broad light of day, you would be good to keep your wallet firmly pocketed. Once you hit Euston and University College London, however, the neighborhood becomes respectable once more and you can stop worrying about becoming a crime statistic. Soon we found ourselves in Bloomsbury where around every corner you half expect to find T.S Eliot or Virginia Woolf stood in discussion with one of their literary acquaintances from that little bourgeois social circle of theirs. When Americans see London in their movies, says my old man, this is the London they are seeing.

As we passed Euston Square Gardens and made our way down Woburn Place, we caught sight of a mound of wreaths and bouquets on the pavement next to BMA House (the headquarters of the British Medical Association). We inquisitively approached the stack of flowers and cards to discover that we had happened upon one of the sites of the 7/7 London Bombings. This summer marks the 10th anniversary since the attacks and it would not be out of line to say that the city still hasn’t fully recovered from the tragedy. I know that I can hardly take a bus or the underground without thinking about it. I would be lying if I said I didn’t get a little choked up when I saw that one of the wreaths had been placed there by George Psaradakis, the driver of the bus that was bombed at Tavistock Square.

Shaken and saddened, we ventured into the park in search of a distraction and occupied ourselves by watching the squirrels chase one another across the grass and up through the trees. We found a bench to rest for a short while, but before long, we were back on our trek. By the time we arrived at Covent Garden it was early evening and the place was humming with activity. We saw street magicians, dancers and singers entertaining the crowds of cheering tourists while bachelor and hen parties noisily stumbled from bar to bar. We took a brief stroll around the Piazza but even the buzz and excitement of a Saturday night in central London were not enough to shake the exhaustion one is bound to feel after a long day spent walking the city. Surrendering to our tired and heavy legs, we admitted defeat and made our way to the nearest bus home. I haven’t slept so well in weeks.

We took a few pictures along the way. I hope you enjoy.