Confession time. There are occasional moments when I have doubts about living in London. About living in Walthamstow. About the mess and the noise and, you know, all that stuff.
And then there are days like today. Days when I watch old friends and complete strangers chatting in my kitchen, my tummy full of cake, tea and joy. For the past three days of the E17 Art Trail, we have kept our front door open, with a big sign saying 'COME IN!' - and not a teaspoon was stolen.If there is such a thing as a feral underclass, they must have been hanging around somewhere else, because the only people that we saw were just LOVELY. Asking kind and interesting and unexpected questions and bringing their children and dogs.
Thanks in particular to all our great friends and neighbours who came, also to the two librarians who came, the four social workers, the bloke who popped in after Friday prayers, the lady whose husband disapproved of her book-buying habit, the woman from The Mill who popped in to chat, and especially the people who came on Saturday to meet their friends and stayed talking for a while.
There was even a little time at the end of it all to go and see a very few of the other venues, including the Designers' Market, and I was frankly gutted that I hadn't had more time to get out there and see more of it.
I meant to take more pictures of my visitors but for one thing I was a bit shy (can you tell that I was hiding behind the bunch of flowers in the top picture?) and for another, there just wasn't time with all the chatting and tea-making and what-not.
So anyway tonight, Walthamstow, I salute you. You are, indeed, awesome.
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