London 15 - 17 March 2024 - Part 17

Borough Market


Before I am finished in the shower, Dan joins me. Stands beside me under the oversized shower head. Wide enough for two.

We concentrate on washing. Ourselves rather than each other. A self-denying ordinance.

We are quickly clean. Towelled. Robed. I sit at the dressing table to dry my hair. Apply a little make up. My turn to delay breakfast.

"Have you been to Borough Market?"

"It's sowf of the river!"

I pull on clean knickers. My 501s. A pale pink Hollister hoodie.

"It's good, worth a visit for the food."

I look at my stuff, scattered about. I'll just throw it all in the back of the Mini later.

"It's still sowf of the river."

Dan is dressed. Jeans. Tee. A blue and white Fatface Airlie top. Not too unstylish for an old geezer.

He's on the phone to his favourite cab company.

"There's a bridge. You won't get your feet wet."

Downstairs. I sit. Put on my boots. Do I look like a dyke? Shit! I've never worried about that before!

I grab my leather jacket. Shoulder bag.

"Okay, if we're going. Let's go. I'm starving."

We take the lift to the lobby. We wait a few minutes for the cab. Not the same car or driver. Equally attentive. Dan must put business their way.

"Borough Market, please, Jack. Drop us close as you can to Brother Marcus."

Dan takes my hand. It is strangely comforting. We are heading south of the Thames. Bandit territory.

"You do like Turkish, eastern Mediterranean food."

It's a statement, but one that echoes with inner doubt.

I squeeze his hand.

"Love it."

The journey is not much more than ten minutes. Dan's prediction holds good. The bridge holds up. My feet stay dry. Even when we have to walk the last few metres.

Brother Marcus's address must be the best café address in London - 1, Dirty Lane SE1.


The place is busy. Which is reassuring. But not crowded. We have no trouble finding a table inside. It's too cold to join the smokers. We order coffee, juice, no alcohol for me on a driving day.


Dan has the full Marcus breakfast.



I go for the Smoky Shakshuka, with added bacon.



I am the one eating "foreign".

The food is good. The atmosphere is good. We chat about everything and nothing. We find ourselves smiling at one another. Like lovers do.

Is that what we have become?

The café fills up. As we do. I am conscious of packing. Loading the Mini. Heading back up to Oxford. I feel a sense of urgency.

I place my hand on Dan's.

"Call the cab. Let's go back now."



[NOTE: The photographs are not mine.They are taken from the Brother Marcus website.]