After a fairly dramatic 9 days, I felt good this morning, damn you sciatica, so we went to the continental market in Sheffield.
Abracadabra, my sciatica feels like the remnants of a pulled muscle.
I’m so happy I can walk again without pain.
The continental market is here to coincide with the snooker championships, maximum exposure, maximum chance of profiteering. Nothing wrong with that, they’re not stealing from us, merely asking us to buy stuff at rather high prices. Polish sausage in a breadcake for £3.50. Paella £4.50, French stick with various cheeses on £4.50. Some Caribbean roti stuff £4.00. “Home made” Punjabi stuff £4.50. Bag of 10 poffertjes £3.50. There’s a kind of trend developing yes?
Come on! You’re talking Sheffield here, on a work day, not some holiday resort or FA cup final event with a captive audience. We bought a bag of zoute drop for £2.50, which you could probably get in Hema in Amsterdam from the drop pick and mix for about 2.
Instead we went to a Chinese buffet for a midday snack, £6.50 each, as much as you can eat, which basically means you can choose what you want to eat, when you feel like it and you don’t have to pig out, you just eat until your are satisfied, having tried whatever you wanted to. Of course you get the odd pig who eats until he or she can’t move and has begun to resemble a character from Animal Farm, such as Eric Pickles, but most people are pretty sensible.
We popped into a charity shop because Astrid is collecting batik and very occasionally we stumble upon some. It’s quite exquisite but rather expensive. At the end of the shop was this stupid sign, saying SMILE YOUR ON CAMERA. Well, touché, so is that stupid sign. As usual it is grammatically incorrect. Things must be hard if people are stealing from charity shops.
We took a shortcut to the continental market via the Sheffield cathedral graveyard, it’s always nice walking through there. They’d just laid some new turf and it was an attraction to some birds you rarely see in city centres. First we noticed a goldfinch, then another one, but they were too quick to be photographed.
The mistle thrush on the other hand kept hopping closer and closer then at the last second flew off at a tangent away from shot. I managed to get a couple of good ones, but hey, goldfinches and mistle thrush in the centre of a city of 600,000 people with all the car and bus fumes, 100 metres from a major shopping thoroughfare buzzing with noise, smells and movement. It made my day.
The grave stones were so calming. I reckon this one is either the oldest in the graveyard or one of the oldest. It mentions the burial of someone in 1692 followed by his son A—- in 1707 then an Elisha Snipe on Christmas Eve 1712. Not much of a Christmas for that family was it? All this happened 66 years before the first Englishman even walked on mainland Australia. The oldest grave in my home village cemetery is 1788, the exact year the first slave ships arrive in Botany Bay. What a balls up they made of that. Typical Tory/Whig (Liberals) incompetence, they should have left all the convicts in dismal, grey and drizzly England and sent all the good guys to Australia.
I’d have been a big noise in Alice Springs by now. Or maybe not.
Enjoy the photos.