Carbohydrates on Parade

We sucked the very marrow of life today, let me tell you. Though we were tragically misinformed by the company's own website that Monmouth Coffee would be closed for refurbishment until Monday, and therefore wasted a valuable coffee-consumption opportunity at the Pret a Manger across the street, Borough Market was nevertheless fabulous.  I will omit, in deference to the sensibilities of my likely readers (and myself) a description of the fresh game on display.  Suffice to say, between some of the goods available and a gruesome scene in last night's play, it has been a difficult 36 hours for lagomorphophiles (I made up that word, but it sounds right). 

However, there was much consolation.

We purchased from Neal's Yard Dairy- from the shop assistants who treat your need for a nice sharp cheddar with the seriousness of purpose such requirements really deserve- and from Flour Power.  In a nice piece of timing, we have a long train journey tomorrow.  Riders of the East Coast train services to Edinburgh from King's Cross station (08:55 departure), you have been warned: There will be stinky cheese on board. 

Also about a half a kilo of Turkish Delight, source of the downfall of Edmund Pevensie (and who can blame him?).

After a thorough perusal of all the parts of the market, we continued on foot toward Tate Modern.  Where we shared a cheese plate, just to take the edge off.

Then on to Lambeth along the Thames...

... in search of yarn.  Yes, all the obsessive yearnings in one day:  The bread, the cheese, the yarn. 

We went here:  http://www.iknit.org.uk/ and although I liked it fine, so outstanding did I find Loop the other day that this shop rates a mere "acceptable."  They did have some double-knit self-striping yarn that I liked quite well, but it's made in Italy, and so I deemed in not appropriate as a souvenir yarn.  Several of you will be shocked at what seems to be unusual self-control.  You should know that I went to the cafe next door and had an Italian hot chocolate, just to show that there's nothing wrong with Italy. 

National Theatre tonight for the Alan Ayckbourn play "Season's Greetings."  A sold-out house at the Lyttleton.  From the moment one of the characters tells everyone that one of the presents under the tree is an enormous, loud, and unpredictable alarm clock, you know it's going to be mayhem.  But it was delightful mayhem, with Mark Gatiss and Catherine Tate.

It may be a bit quiet on the blog front for the next couple of days.  I'm only taking a small overnight bag to Edinburgh, and since there has to be room for both knitting projects and cheese, the computer may not go.  One has to be true to one's essential nature.