When the sun is shining, it can feel like there’s no finer place to be than London. Years ago, I lived near Portobello Road and would spend a weekend afternoon eating piping hot churros from a street stall, right there on the pavement. It’s been ages since I had ventured West, and with the sun out in full force I was excited to explore the old neighbourhood!
I always walk by the pastel shade houses and think to myself what it must be like to live in there and to have every passerby snap a photo outside your door. I would probably be constantly stalking my house on Instagram.
It also makes me think that I would not be mad if I came home to find my house painted a pastel pink or blue.
There was no real agenda walking down Portobello Road. It just makes for a nice mooch, nosing around trinkets and pretty shop fronts.
Portobello has a flow; first the antiques, then the food stalls, and then by the time you get to the bridge, its vintage clothes galore. With Carnival rearing up soon, there was a guy on the street playing a steel drum, which in my head is the perfect Notting Hill theme tune.
Because it was a scorching hot summer day, and of course I had chosen that very day to wear my skinny jeans, I had to declare a time out to cool down right there on the pavement. It was shady, the concrete was cool, and I didn’t care how nuts it looked. To be fair, if you want to be a crazy eccentric, Portobello Road is a fine place to be.
The market stalls start to wind down around 4 o clock- the food and flower stalls start to flog their wares for a knocked down price and the crowds start to thin out, so if it’s a bargain pastry or peony that you’re after, now’s the time to come.
It was nice to venture back to this part of London I called home for a couple of years. It’s a beautiful part of town, but spending time here also made me realise, it’s no longer ‘my’ part of town and I was happy with that. An evening stroll through Hyde Park and an ice tea later, I was on the tube back East, back to my ends that did feel like home.