Yesterday we realised that, for all our efforts, we were getting low on fruit, so at lunchtime we went to the Sunday market near the flat. A very different experience indeed from the previous day’s organic market. This was set up along a street, with stall after stall overflowing with produce and interspersed with stalls selling inexpensive clothing and household sundries (I bought clothes pegs, a sharp knife and some cheap plastic containers). Unsurprisingly, the clientele was also very different: far poorer and less middle class in attire. More headscarves, certainly more black people, and I think more Syrian refugees as well; some of the shops in the vicinity had Arabic signs. The quality was slightly less good than at the organic shop, but still far better than anything we’ve had since, perhaps, Mexico, where the markets had a similar feeling of abundance of quality produce, even where not organic. Also, as teh GF remarked, a pleasure to be able to buy in large quantities what one considers a luxury elsewhere. In Mexico it was avocadoes etc; here it’s things like artichoke hearts and olive oil.
Other than that, the day was spent hard at work. I had planned for this whole time – from Friday to Sunday – to be free of work but bad planning kept me even busier than usual.