Friendly folk
We've been in our new place for a bit over three weeks now, and I'm liking the area more and more. It's not as green and beautiful as Islington. There are no lovely Victorian terrace houses. It's a bit dirty. But the people are much more friendly.
A few days after we moved in I did a really big grocery shop after work. It was a bit silly to try to do it by myself, but I had only really meant to get a few things and then got carried away. A shopowner in our street saw me struggling and left his shop unattended to carry home my groceries for me. I'd struggled from Waitrose in Canary Wharf, to the DLR station, and then from Deptford Bridge DLR to our street. I'd been stopping overy 20 metres or so to put down the bags, trying to regain feeling in my fingers, and by the time I passed his shop I was really tired. My arms were aching and my hands were numb. It was only about 50 metres to our flat, but I was so grateful.
On Sunday, fresh off the plane from Berlin, I was on a mission to find the last of the ingredients I needed for the Christmas puddings (I'm making two - one for me and one for S in return for a Christmas cake for which I bought some delicious marzipan in Berlin). Luckily, there is a few grocery places on our street - nice little corner store type places, with eclectic mixes of Asian (in the Australian sense of the word), African, Carribean and British food. Walking into one of these stores, I heard a man call out from across the street 'Alright' (English for how are you). He sounded like he was calling out to a friend, so I didn't turn around.
'Hi'
'Are you shopping for one or two?'
I thought it was a little strange to be continuing the one-sided conversation, but since he clearly wasn't talking to me, I went on my merry way. The next thing I knew, the voice was right behind me and this time clearly was talking to me. How was I? Was I having a good day? What was my name? Was I cooking for Sunday lunch? Oh, for Christmas pudding. Could he have some too?
It was all a bit surreal, but very friendly and cheerful. And as he was leaving the shop he called out 'Bye, Margie Margie Margie'.
By the time I left the store, the shop assistant, who greeted me by name having overheard the conversation, had also invited himself to Christmas pudding.
I'm also now a celebrity in the local curry joint, where I got takeaway last night. I have no idea why, but they wanted to take my photo with all the staff to put up on the wall. It'd make sense if it were a new restaurant, or if there were already photos of happy customers, but as it is it's a bit of a mystery. But £2.50 for a curry, I wasn't complaining.
I like Deptford, and, despite Vaughn's Crazy, I like the people.
A few days after we moved in I did a really big grocery shop after work. It was a bit silly to try to do it by myself, but I had only really meant to get a few things and then got carried away. A shopowner in our street saw me struggling and left his shop unattended to carry home my groceries for me. I'd struggled from Waitrose in Canary Wharf, to the DLR station, and then from Deptford Bridge DLR to our street. I'd been stopping overy 20 metres or so to put down the bags, trying to regain feeling in my fingers, and by the time I passed his shop I was really tired. My arms were aching and my hands were numb. It was only about 50 metres to our flat, but I was so grateful.
On Sunday, fresh off the plane from Berlin, I was on a mission to find the last of the ingredients I needed for the Christmas puddings (I'm making two - one for me and one for S in return for a Christmas cake for which I bought some delicious marzipan in Berlin). Luckily, there is a few grocery places on our street - nice little corner store type places, with eclectic mixes of Asian (in the Australian sense of the word), African, Carribean and British food. Walking into one of these stores, I heard a man call out from across the street 'Alright' (English for how are you). He sounded like he was calling out to a friend, so I didn't turn around.
'Hi'
'Are you shopping for one or two?'
I thought it was a little strange to be continuing the one-sided conversation, but since he clearly wasn't talking to me, I went on my merry way. The next thing I knew, the voice was right behind me and this time clearly was talking to me. How was I? Was I having a good day? What was my name? Was I cooking for Sunday lunch? Oh, for Christmas pudding. Could he have some too?
It was all a bit surreal, but very friendly and cheerful. And as he was leaving the shop he called out 'Bye, Margie Margie Margie'.
By the time I left the store, the shop assistant, who greeted me by name having overheard the conversation, had also invited himself to Christmas pudding.
I'm also now a celebrity in the local curry joint, where I got takeaway last night. I have no idea why, but they wanted to take my photo with all the staff to put up on the wall. It'd make sense if it were a new restaurant, or if there were already photos of happy customers, but as it is it's a bit of a mystery. But £2.50 for a curry, I wasn't complaining.
I like Deptford, and, despite Vaughn's Crazy, I like the people.
posted by Margie at 5:51 pm
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