anyone?

Gray days...

The weather is stereotypical. Even more stereotypical than usual. Gray. Rainy. Here's a little sun. Nope. Gray. Rainy. And today it's even a bit cool.

Still, we're managing to continue our process of settling. I found two pieces of much needed furniture on the street yesterday. Should have taken before shots. Will take after shots and post them. I'm reimagining them, having sanded them down yesterday.

Went to the annual Art Car Boot Fair the other day at the Truman Brewery back yard on Brick

Lane, just down the road from Stoke Newington. Quite an affair, with London's east end arty elite selling wares for the people at prices verging on the populist. The YBA hold court. Gavin Turk - that's him in the photo - took a typical YBA stance and was selling car boots - a "boot" by the way is what we call a trunk and car boot sale is like a garage sale.

We managed to pick up some nice little Objets d'art including a little painting from the Soho doyenne Molly Parkin, a can of "(Tracy) Eminz alphabet spaghetti: in menstrual sauce", a portrait of Caroline and my carbon footprint, and a seed packet with a print by up-and-comer Oliver Clegg. I would have liked to pick up a toilet roll by Tim Noble and Sue Webster, a rubbing by Bob and Roberta Smith, and a orange-peel Cocks for Convents by well, i'm not sure. Could have swarn it was Sarah Lucas.

The item of the day seemed to be the Peter Blake prints. He was there looking like Colonol Sanders himself, little black neck bow and all, and the prints were selling for 25 pounds. Not bad. People were a bit eager, pushing and stepping on feet. Rather undignified, if you ask me, like those images you see of women rushing into to buy wedding dresses at those giant warehouse sales in the midwest. Anyway, we hadnt' the cash or the desire to get trampled so we hung back. Given the fact that Blake's newest retrospective at the Tate Liverpool just got panned in the Guardian i don't feel like we missed out on much.

To add to the atmosphere, one could purchase a "fan-a-gram" for a fiver and send a troop full of young girls after the chosen victim, screeming, shouting and asking for autographs. Hilarious! This is an idea that must be repeated. Which reminds me of a sign up at Bob and Roberta Smith's stand: "Warning! Artists are operating in this area. Your ideas will be stolen."

It was a lovely day out in Brick Lane. I've got more photos of the day up on Flickr. Have a looksy.

Butterfield Dreams...

Well, after two weeks, we’ve done it. We’ve found, let, and moved into Flat 2, 7 Allen Road, Stoke Newington, N16 8SB. The small diamond-shaped sign on the front of the building reads Butterfield House. When I look out the front door, or the window of our bedroom, which looks to the street, I see the sculpted iron-gated entrance to Butterfield Green. Down the street is a pub called The Shakespeare. Next door is a yoga studio called YogaHome. We’re in the town of Stoke Newington, the burough of Hackney, the city of London, the country of England, the United Kingdom, Europe. It’s nice to be here.

“Stokey”, as the locals call it, is the bohemian center of north-east London, refuge of artists, musicians and lesbians. Stoke Newington Church Street is one of the greatest streets in London for “pottering,” as Caroline says. Second-hand stores, Flower shops, Sandwich counters, Organic food stores, Vintage furniture, Art.Boutique clothing; hours and hours of shopping. Yummy mummy’s of the Hackney set push posh prams past punks and pavement dwellers. We have some of the best Indian food in London (Rasa, the originals), Turkish, Italian (Il Bacio), and Gastropubs. For drinking we have Ryan’s Bar, the Auld Shilelagh, the Three Crowns, The Prince, The Londesborough and many more. You must come visit!

Over the next year I’ll try and share this and other parts of London with you. It will be London discovered…uncovered…covered.

Allen Road, N16 - incidentally, just round the corner from where the first ever bomb dropped on London from the air fell in WW1