By that point our bodies were crying out for coffee and sugary stuff, we dithered around trying to remember where the good places were, when we remembered Broadway Market.
Auto pilot took over and all the short cuts and back streets came back to me. It has changed so much - obviously more chi-chi and busy, but happily less so than Columbia Road became. Michael had said that the perfect hangover cure would be the great Portuguese custard tarts, but I wasn't hopeful as that was from the Portobello years, but having walked the full length of the market admiring everything from piles of cakes,
rustic bread, spanking fresh fish, Ghanaian curries and more, his desire was rewarded and a small stack was spied! Grabbing a coffee from exactly the kind of cafe I would love to run one day - part deli, part caff, part community hub - we went and sat on a bench on the towpath
and admired/mocked the exertions of many many joggers. We surprised ourselves by re-imagining ourselves as Hackney dwellers - but that may have been the residual blood alcohol...More poignant were the memories of endless walks along that towpath with Louise when G and Flora were newborns. We walked to and from Victoria Park often and once made it all the way to Limehouse Basin. With g's birthday last week and Flora's on Tuesday, the first she will have without her mother, there was much to ponder and be thankful for.
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