It's nice to be living in a place that experiences autumn, especially now that my bicycle has arrived. Fall just always feels best-suited for pedaling -- and eating. After finally getting my bike in riding condition, I set my sights on Tootopia as my first outing. I wandered mostly along the Wandle Trail to get to the neighborhood food festival, being held in the courtyard behind Graveney & Meadow (left). For my mid-ride snack, I settled on a BBQ brisket sandwich and a beer from Beavertown Brewery, a tough choice made after a thorough review of all the offerings on hand (right).
Before heading home, I wandered around the area's high street, including the historical Tooting Market, which has an old-fashioned English facade (left). Truth be told, I was more taken in by the adjacent Broadway Market, which clearly caters to Britain's newer residents (right). Its eating establishments featured a wide variety of cuisines: Caribbean, Chinese, Portuguese, and Mauritanian -- from the north African country, not to be confused with Mauritian, from the Indian Ocean island -- which also was on hand among the food stalls. Based on the script on their signs, many of the non-food vendors catered to Arabic-speaking customers, including one salon that offered curtains to provide hijab-free haircuts.
If autumn means bike rides to me, it apparently means crazy costumes to many Brits (OK, OK, cycling jerseys and Lycra shorts make for amusing attire as well) -- at least judging from the get-ups at the Harvest Festival held annually at the Guildhall, London's 15th-century city hall (left). The event is hosted by the Pearly Kings and Queens, who didn't exhibit any competitive vibes as they welcomed members of another group known for its distinctive garb, the Red Hatters, among the audience (right).
I ran, not rode, to gawk at the group's suits, a tribute to the legacy of Henry Croft, an orphan who decorated his clothes with pearls that fell off Costermongers' trousers in order to attract attention to his pet charity causes. My attention was attracted by a very patriotic English couple, who also caught the eye of the festival maypole dancers (left). But I was most drawn to the Newfoundland dogs that help deliver alms to St. Mary Le Bow Church as part of the ceremony (right). I actually didn't stick around for the ceremony because after more than a half-hour of waiting in my sweaty clothes for it to start, I was in need of some shelter from the elements; sadly, no one offered me the warmth of a bejeweled blazer.
A couple of weeks later, I dressed myself a little warmer for a ride over to Borough Market for another festival hosted by folks with a funny fashion sense, the October Plenty (left). The re-creation of ancient harvest celebration customs was held in conjunction with the market's Apple Day, in which vendors pay homage to the fall fruit. Seriously, they respect apples so much that they protected rare varietals in glass cases (right).
The first outrageous outfit I spied was that of the Ancient Apple Queen, who was being interviewed by modern media (left). She politely answered the television presenter's questions, but she was clearly happier handing out apple samples as she recited a poem about herself (right). I particularly enjoyed my sliver of a Knobby Russet, an ugly but tangy apple.
The harvest festival is organized by a theatre troupe called The Lions Part, a member of which was harvesting young minds in the story orchard (left). Unfortunately, I missed the group's special play for the day, but I did catch the performance of some Morris dancers, who tossed up their tassels along with their feet as they spun some hankerchiefs (right).
But of course, I had to honor the harvest myself by having some apples in liquid and solid form. I was tempted by a barrel of mead, but in the end, I selected some hot apple juice from New Forest Cider (left). I used it to wash down a couple of fresh-from-the-fryer apple fritters from Fish! Kitchen (right).
Strangely enough, the most confusing dress code was for an outdoor showing of the Rugby World Cup (top left), where men were asked to wear blazers and women were encouraged to exhibit "glitz & glamour." Perhaps that worked for the VIPs in the party tent for Rugby on the Green (top right), but not so much for we Joe-Schmoe spectators sitting on the grounds of Fulham Palace, former home of the Bishop of London for 12 centuries (bottom left). I made an effort to step up my threads, by opting for corduroys instead of jeans, which ensured my comfort as I watched New Zealand comfortably beat Australia 34-17 under the shadow of All Saints Fulham Church (bottom right).
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