Ealing past - resources

Here is my second post of the second thousand and I am going to share with you a link to a long text about the growth of Ealing, the borough which has been my home for the last seven years: click here and enjoy!

And should you be still in the mood for reading about the Ealing past, please go here, to Ealing: A Concise History.

Should you wish to see Ealing through my lenses, go to the Search box above! :-)

Music and visual arts

I've received an invitation to an afternoon of live music and more at The 66 Art Gallery in Folkestone. Here are the details:

'Stephen will be giving his penultimate recital on the SATURDAY 5th NEXT , and this coincides with the hanging of a very special Christmas show by local artists who offer original, small works for under £40, with a maximum of £90 ... and for the most part, framed.

​       A CARD IS FOR CHRISTMAS, AN ORIGINAL PAINTING IS FOR LIFE.​

On the 24th, Christmas Eve, from 2 pm till 5, Florianne is giving a Violin Recital accompanied by BUBBLES & MINCE PIES, with Stephen on the Piano

we would love you all to be here, getting yourselves  in the mood for the Festivities to come.

xxxxxxx    Maud,Fiona,Frank and François Mitterand !'

 

It would be nice to go there. We shall see...

Community Shop in Ealing

Today I went to see a quite new charity shop between West Ealing and Hanwell and I took pictures as it looks really cool, like from Portobello Market. No time to add them here now though.

Camden Market

Sunday is not a good day to visit Camden Market and nor is any other if you are not fond of crowds and shopping, but that is my opinion.

Arrival in El Jadida

This is my 998th post here! For a time I haven't been posting on daily basis. Does it matter?

Anyway, not that there is nothing to write about these days, quite contrary. However, I'll go back to the last spring in Morocco and share a good few pictures from the first evening in El Jadida, on the Atlantic coast.  The coach from Essauira dropped us off at the station when the day was coming to an end. We gave up trying to get to the hotel we'd booked on foot. Only on the map it looked straightforward, not so much in the dark, in the busy traffic and with luggage. Conveniently, a taxi materialised itself and took us to safety. The place looked as we expected. Refreshed and with the directions from the receptionist, we walked out for an evening stroll in search of the souk and the Portuguese fortress.

Like in other traditional Arab hotels, the guest rooms are upstairs:

 Downstairs, there is a central courtyard, usually with a fountain in the middle and tables around it. That's where we were served breakfast.

A street leading towards the Portuguese town gate:

(The Portuguese did not stay there very long, but they left some solid structures behind and gave the fortified city a name: Mazagan.)

Lots of street food was on offere wherever you looked.

Some smells were more tempting than others.

The raw products:

And some cooked, would you like to taste it?;-)

 Inside a small bar I photographed some pictures including old photographs of the town. There we had some fresh local fish prepared as we were waiting at the table outside chatting, or rather listening, to a local man, a retired sailor who had lots of stories to tell...

 The underground cistern in the fortress looked mysterious. We visited it the next day. It felt like being in Istanbul, but that's a different tale...

Simple but effective kitchen:

This is the time for socialising!

The salad and bread were served first:

 It was a lot of fish so we actually shared it with a Moroccan beggar widow who approached us. She had to lift the facial cover every time she placed the food in her mouth. What a carry-on!

 Sitting there we could watch the world go by, including this young lad who, as our well informed companion told us, was one of many local people who 'profusely indulge in prompting their sense of smell'...

 That friendly and cheerful guy sold us freshly pressed sugar cane juice. Deliciously refreshing! (The plastic bag came free...)

 Hunger and thirst satisfied, we were ready to  cross the Portuguese walls of hewn stone...

Yes, it is a church, not a mosque! The whole walled town made it to a UNESCO list in 2004.

Contemporary graffiti... Local Bansky practising?;-)

The entrance to the Portuguese Cystern was to see us after breakfast:

 
We left the Portuguese walls behind and bravely sought a different route back to the hotel. However, it turned out difficult so we went back the route we came stopping for a lovely Moroccan tea at a small cafe. It was served by a young boy of ten if not younger. He was helping his father while most of European children were fast asleep.  How keen he was to practise the little English he had learnt at school so far. I wish more of my students had his enthusiasm...

It was a great evening!

Spooky

Hanwell Community Centre reminds me of a cultural centre in every Polish town or city. Of the famous, Charlie Chaplin lived there for a time and the rock group Deep Purple would rehearse in the building. There are also many stories about ghosts in that area...

Not everyone likes fruit

I bought some really cheap but nice apples and satsumas, a bag of each, this evening. On the way from the shop I saw a young looking man sitting ob the corner. He was begging. I stopped, took out a beautiful large apple and offered the fruit to the man. He was delighted and remarked: 'Yeah! Fruit are good for you!'. We had a quick chat. He said he was glad as he had a thick blanket to sit on. It was raining, you see... I asked him why he was there, in the cold street and he said he had a bad back and a broken leg. I noticed crutches beside him. He couldn't work. When his mother died the council took away the flat. It was a three-bedroom one, too big for a single man. He left it and now has nowhere to go to...

Having crossed the street I saw another beggar and yet another one when I passed the station entrance. This time I reached for a satsuma and went back to offer it to the fellow. 'What is it? A lemon? I don't want a lemon, what do I need a lemon for?', was his reaction. I tried to explain it was not a lemon, but had to give up and walked away. I ate the satsuma on the way home.

A blogging GP

There is a GP in West Ealing who writes a blog on the surgery website. I had a pleasure to meet this wonderful woman through a mutual friend, Yousif Naser, an artist. Instead of writing more here and now I encourage you to read her recent post after clicking here.

November has arrived

All Saints' Day in London to many Poles meant a walk to a cemetery. Too far to visit the family and friends' graves back in Poland, they chose a nearby necropoly. Cycling yesterday I stopped at St Mary's graveyard in Perivale. There was a Polish man who came to light a candle or two on a grave there. We chatted briefly.

Cycling through a park I saw a knife in the grass. A dog-walking man stopped too and immediately recognised the knife was plastic. A Halloveen accessory left behind, not another tool of murder. I heard from a friend that last week a man in his fifties was knifed by four teenagers at the station in Stratford. Luckily, my friend wasn't there as she and other friends went for a drink to celebrate her birthday after work.