Market, mais oui.

A (very) little bit of France came to Willesden Green this weekend and parked itself outside the Library Centre, right next to the wall the drunks like to sit on. My, they were in their element - crepes and diamond white all round. I took some photos for those of you unlucky enough to live in places other then Willesden Green. Poor you.

French Market outside library centre, exhibit A. See, told you so.

Onions and garlic. The garlic was not on strings but in nice bunches, so I was foiled in my attempt to hang garlic around my neck and pedal my bicylcle happily up to the bus garage and back. Oh well, at least it saved me from stealing a bicycle.

Flesh.

Sausages. Including ostrich. My friend bought some venison ones so I made her walk five paces behind me. She muttered quite a bit about that I can tell you.

Bread or pain as they say. We were on much safer territory with the baked produce. Especially the biscuits which we all agreed were delicious.

That ends the photo montage - bring back the elephant.

It would be lovely if we could have more of this in Willesden Green. Evil Queens Park, lousy with Orlandos and Jocastas, has a farmers market every Sunday. We need a market. And not one of those like the one outside Argos on Kilburn High Road. I would start a local campaign but last time I tried anything like that the squirrels wrote obscenities on my placards.

I am full of cheese today, and shallots also. I smell a treat. Apparently. People can be so cruel, can’t they?