So today we ventured into the East End in search of the ephemeral nature of Street Art. Lurching down Brick Lane into Hanbury Street we came across examples some almost permanent and others transitory. We also took a bus to Rivington Street, but we failed to see the major highlights, or they had just…gone!

Recently a new Banksy appeared in North London featuring a life-size stencil of a woman holding a pressure washer and spraying bright green paint on the wall behind a pruned cherry tree. The dripping paint resembles the leaves that once appeared on the tree. We missed it, but hey that’s the nature of street art. 

Later we wandered into Spitalfields Market which has risen like a phoenix from the ashes of a pitiful collection of eclectic stores to a very trendy collection of bespoke boutiques. I did like the old markets, but the new ones are challenging my notions too. They have become ‘themed’. Thursday markets focus on antiques and jewellery. Oh my most favourite things!!! I could browse for hours…but then again …I have a John!!! Oh dear. Still, I found a couple of trinkets to satisfy my idiosyncratic nature. Then I ran into Russell. He looked divine and I was inspired to tell him so. He shared. It turns out Spitafield Market host a Colour Walk every third Thursday of the month. It is delightful. Market goers are invited to meet up and dress up as colourfully as possible. Strangers meet and exchange ideas and have a cupper or a pint at one of the multitude of bars or coffee spots scattered around the markets. One of the walkers described it as a dopamine rush. It just makes you smile. 

It was time to head home and naturally we needed a pint, so we stopped in at the Woodens Shades then picked up a takeaway before crossing the threshold into Liverpool Street Station and it’s almost peak hour. It’s particularly fascinating as this station hosts 19 overground platforms, four major tube lines and a major bus hub. In 2021 Liverpool Street Station hosted more than 32 million entries/exits. It is the busiest in London and suspended over the concourse are two bridges joining the upper decks and from there I watch the crowded concourse as travellers stand transfixed, examining the arrival and departure boards. Suddenly the letters and numbers tumble and the clickety clack reveals the destinations and platforms and then the organised chaos commences as commuters criss-cross each other’s paths never colliding or slowing. It is mesmerising.