Crikey! We were in the heart of London and popping off to a Flea Market. We planned to keep a stiff upper lip, a tight hand on our billfolds and not forget. Flea markets are not for sissies!
“Open your eyes!
Now? It’s the middle of the night? Why?
A quest, an adventure, a rare opportunity awaits! Really?
Let’s Go Shopping!
Nooo, It’s murky and black out, the middle of the night,
reminds me of being a cat burglar and we’ll be in Sherlock Holmes neighborhood. Scary.
“I’ll protect you. I’m taking a torch!”
A few Whats, Whys and Wheres.
We were spending three weeks in England because my husband had been recognized as a talented music educator and conductor, and was invited to guest conduct and adjudicate the Royal British Army Bands and the Royal Air Force Bands.
We were first headed to Twickenham West London, home of the revered historic music training school at Kneller Hall, built in 1709 and reputedly designed by Sir Christopher Wren. Each and every army musician throughout the realm,
including the triangle player trains at this vast and stately edifice.
We were to be the guests of Colonel Frank Renton, head of all the Army Bands in the United Kingdom, his wife Rosemary and Sadie with whom I fell in love. Curls cascaded down long, soft ears and her velvet brown eyes offered eternal loyalty. Each night, she retired to the middle of our bed, covers up to her dog chin and head upon a pillow. Rosemary told us if a dinner guest briefly left the table, Sadie occupied their chair and followed the conversation turning her head to listen to each guest. (Only in England with the British and their dogs. Sadie graciously gave up the bed when we retired.)
London Flea Markets abound and Bermondsey Antique Market ranked way in the clouds. Open on Fridays, dealers arrived as early as 4:00 A.M. carrying torches—a.k.a.—flashlights!
A bus from the Renton’s location was not feasible and the tube did not run early. Rosemary suggested we use Carol and Charles’ driver. (During the time of our visit the Metropolitan Opera Star Carol Vaness was married to Charles Renton. When she sang at Covent Garden they stayed at the Renton’s and “Alan’s Car Hire” transported them to the city for performances.)
Fresh-faced, rosy cheeked Alan arrived in his crisply pressed uniform with peaked cap driving a Mercedes limo. (At flea markets, the guidebook said, “The richer you look, the higher price you’ll pay. Dress simply.” Don’t arrive in a limo. (The guidebook didn’t say that.)
People craned to see who arrived. Alan leaped out opening doors,, tipping his cap, admonishing me with, “Mind, your step, M’um.” Out stepped two ordinary tourists with a Royal army torch!
The travel guide book also said, “Tell the seller you only have limited cash on hand, look into your wallet and show your limited amount.” Awww, easy-peasy. “Do not offer large bills and ask for change.” I had no large bills. “Dress down.” A no-brainer with grungy walking shoes that looked like paddle-boats and a rain coat lined with fake fur. They should just give me the stuff.
Ta,Da!
Opened by Prince Albert in 1855,
“Bermondsey Market is one of the few markets in London where the majority of items are genuine antiques. It has a sea of relics similar to the loot of Fagan’s street gang. It’s half car boot sale, half chic Parisian flea market.”*
When Alan and my husband left to park I scooted into the crowd. It was overwhelming to be in that shadowy light and I sensibly decided to just look around and not purchase.
Nearby, my discerning eye glimpsed a stunning etched ivory and luminous silver carving knife and fork nested in a silk lining. In no time at all, I owned “A Fish Carving Set.” Never had I ever cooked, carved or presented a whole fish for our dinner table——a truly sensible purchase.
I did not have to go far when again the most charming beveled wooden mirror in a red lacquered Chinoisserie frame spoke to me. I was convinced it would fit in my husband’s suitcase. Somehow, his statement before we left escaped me, “We are not buying another suitcase.” When he knew how hard I had to work with that seller to get that mirror, I thought he’d be happy to fit it in his suitcase. She actually followed me when she changed her mind to sell it to me!
Oh boy, there was a small crowd around a stall where buyers were peering though their eye loupes at trays of tempting jewelry and ME with two daughters who loved baubles. (Well, one did.) Two stunning rings popped into my tote bag. Always thoughtful, I put them in my suitcase.
It was an adventure to watch astute buyers bargain, fun to walk around among the relics and of course watch the other buyers and sellers, a morning in technicolor. As I retraced my steps to find my husband, there they were….
Antique Curtain Rings!
Uniquely carved antique brass rings with small rose sculptures
BUT WAIT,
she was holding them for another buyer. Awww, she instructed me to come back in an hour. I perfected advancing and retreating trying to covertly see if they were still there. Probably sick of my presence, she sold all twenty-four to me! (It felt like I had just won the War of the Roses.)
My funds had dwindled and I was content. Only, for a half-second though because a seller was unwrapping tiles that had been removed that morning from a Victorian fireplace. Oh dear! She agreed to hold the tiles until I found my husband assuring her he would be able to meet her price. His princely sum had also dwindled. We changed more money. We were two pounds short, showed her our empty wallets and probably sick of my hound-dog downcast look, they were ours.
As she started rewrapping a loud voice behind us, said, “I’ll take those, M’umm.” And there was Alan, shiny uniform and all, making us look way too affluent. She gave us an expression of mock horror breaking into a great laugh, as she graciously said, “You got me, Yanks”
Did we accidentally Fleece a Seller at Bermondsey? The one that opened in 1855? Hmmm.
P.S. Guess whose suitcase held the tiles?
Sy’s Salient Points:
Always travel with a good-hearted companion who has a really large suitcase.
Our brief buying outing was a a bit of an escapade, but as always we enjoyed the beauty of new landscapes, the music made us believe the world was a special place and our new friends who opened their doors made our journey a magical milestone.
*Bermondsey Market – Wikipedia Happy Birthday to your Mommy and Aunt DNY, Blaire.
So far the best I can come up with is that my blog is a sort of/kind of/maybe a “mini”type newsletter article that’s a blog. Shoot, that’s my blog in a nutshell!
