to market, to market.

Yesterday morning was my first visit to Columbia Road flower market, a Sunday ritual for green-thumbed Londoners. It's tucked away in Shoreditch, but all I had to do was follow the direction from where the clusters of people carrying greenery were coming. Easy peasy.

I met up with one of my future flatmates (moving in 2 weeks, can't waiiiiiit) for iced lattes and breakfast, curb-side. It was a delightful visit, and I am pinching myself with disbelief at the idea that it will be just a 5-minute walk from my doorstep once I move.

This photo was taken just before some heinous lady shoved me to the side as she moved past me (the tiny walkway betwixt stalls is impossibly crowded, but STILL, yo), and i fell into those flower pots. My calf is bruised, but I felt worse for fucking up some marketer's plants. It was so crowded no one seemed to really notice, though, but I was still blushing beneath my white ray bans.

Lovely antique shoppe.

We munched on breakfast and sipped our delicious iced cold drinks whilst watching all the people move past to the sound of this lovely man's accordian. Ah, summertime in London. And then I had to wonder: could I be any happier?