Assorted Yuppie Irritants

I am well aware that having a busted rib is a pretty minor complaint on the scale of things, but it is bloody painful. It makes even the most standard activities difficult. I love Borough Market – how can you not adore buying fantastic food at a marketplace with origins at far back as Roman times – but it is not a place to be when you have to genuinely fear the prospect of being jostled.

It was the fracture that made yesterday’s trip to the souk in the shadow of Southwark Cathedral more of a muted affair than usual. Borough Market is always teeming, but for once, the density of public schoolboys, yummy mums and assorted yuppie irritants was too much off an obstacle to successfully negotiate. Crowd paranoia soon won out over smells of tabbouleh, blackberry pie, fried chorizo and pots of fresh herbs all clamoring for attention. It was the first time I’ve been there and not bought something to eat whilst sitting in the grounds of St Saviour.

Despite the fact I was planning to go to Allison’s birthday bash in Brixton, when I got home, fatigue, pain and a growling headache forced me to give up on the idea and crawl into bed at a ridiculously early hour. On days like this it is the small things and shared smiles that cut through the throbbing. No day is fully lost to hurt when it also features cooking a decent risotto, tempranillo and falling into oblivion wrapped up in clean, lavender-scented sheets.