Hello dear blog, the weekend just passed has seen me move beyond my comfort zone of NW1 and enter both unexplored territory and places from the distance past.  A Mile End jungle party called for my alter ego Chief Drink-a-Lot to down rum in a wading pool  and belt out 99 Luftballons (yes, in German!) into the  dark tropical night.  A global music festival in Ealing went down slightly more civilized,  with Rumanian folk music and a Yiddish twist orchestra forming an antidote to my hangover. And a mini Saturday excursion went to the fields of Knockhult where I praised the ingenuity of the eco-system whilst indulging in berries in the best goblin-like manner. I am now feeling amazingly reinvigorated, despite minor bodily damages.

Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
“Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries-
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries–
All ripe together
In summer weather–
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy;
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
Come buy, come buy.”

(Goblin Market, C. Rossetti)