I’m Inter‐Continental and I Like French toast

Camberwell Green is to host a four‐day Continental Market on 17th‐20th August.

Professional market traders selling high quality products from various countries including France Germany Holland Belgium Austria and Spain will set up stalls on Camberwell Green on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Camberwell Renewal (LBS), The Camberwell Traders Association and Euro Markets are hoping that the people of Camberwell and surrounding areas will visit the green over this weekend to support the traders who have travelled long distances to participate in this event.

Charcuterie, specialist meats from Corsica, Pates, Herbs and spices and the ever popular olives, Bakery products including traditional wonderful Polish Bread as well as specialist biscuits from Brittany, Belgian Chocolates and Cheeses are just a few of the wonderful food products which will be on sale

That sounds just the ticket. I’ll be away on holiday until the 19th, but will make a point of passing by on the Sunday.

Author: Peter

Long-time resident of Camberwell, author of this blog since July 2004.

21 thoughts on “I’m Inter‐Continental and I Like French toast”

  1. The little woman will love this! Must remember to get her to bring me back some Belgian and German beers.

    Would I be right in saying the Beastie Boys are a popular beat combo of the hip‐hopular variety? I prefer Flanagan & Allen. Each to his own.

  2. Hello, we are returned from our Cornish idyll to find charcuterie on Camberwell Green and specialist meats from Corsica. Whilst down there I missed curry so made a fish curry with tinned sardines from the huge Asda near Falmouth. When the local folk there say, “I’m off to the shop,” they mean the Asda. Anyway, sardines are, I have learned “immature pilchards”.

  3. @Ben — don’t think I’ll be able to make a meet‐up this Sunday; have the in‐laws in tow and will be showing them around town.

  4. It does not matter how hard they try to lift Camberwell to the next level, the area will always be marred by the fact that despite all that is good about it and despite all the positive attitudes of those good people who live there, most of the rest of it is just fucking shit.

  5. Lord Bunty — don’t be such a pessimist. It’s not THAT bad. And even if it were, it’s near enough to town to get out of when the dark clouds descend!

  6. I agree with Mushtimushta — chin up, Lord Bunty Chunk, those cocaine downers are a hazard I know, but it’s hi‐ho silver lining!

    That’s the way I look at it anyway. But then again, maybe that’s because I’ve switched to crystal meth.

  7. copeywolf for Chief Embezzlement Officer! Shit, I meant Treasurer.

    If elected we will ensure that public services such as dealing and buying are properly supported through council tax and bus fare increases.

  8. Lord Bunty Chunk for Best Named Blogger, I say. The area may be a bum deal Bath Spa‐wise, but this necessitates the dream content of one’s day to be increased. I have just been on one of my favourite dreamtime perambulations: through Lucas Gardens, down Peckham Road via the South London Gallery, to Lidl to see how much I can buy for £5 (a whole carrier bagful), then to the Peckham Library with its hum of self‐improvement, then back via Wilson’s bike shop, the best in the country, finally back through Lucas Gardens to see what changes have taken place. I recently bought a Nick Nicely CD with Hilly Fields on it, after reading about it on the “Transpontine” blog site, about the Park in Lewisham, which is extremely dreamy.

  9. Why thank you Dagmar, you are no doubt as attractive as you are judicous. I actually used to live opposite Lucas Gardens and it was a life enhancing experience to wake up each day and gaze at trees rather than brick. On the other hand someone trying to rob me at knife point a few blocks away was rather dispiriting, cocaine withdrawal or no…

  10. Bunty Chunk, we Danish girls, we walk down the street and the trees topple either side. I am interested in my namesake Dagmar. Old Purkiss who built the houses round here named the streets after members of his family, Maud, Grace and Dagmar. Dagmar became a fashionable name because Priness Dagmar was the Danish sister of the much loved Alexandra, whose job it was to marry the decadent Edward VII. The sisters came from a small, modest, almost bicycling, Danish, royalish family who have birth to many top monarchs. Dagmar married a junior tsar in Russia and gave birth to the last Tsar. The Revolution came and she was evacuated in 1919 on HMS Marlborough, sent to get her because she was the Queen’s sister. (The stuffy, ugly German royals here distrusted their much prettier Danish cousins. In fact Germany nicked Schleswig Holstein off ‘em in the build‐up to World War 1.) Anyway, Dagmar never knew what happened to her son in Russia, though obviously he got the chop. She lived in Russia for 51 years, spoke Russian, really joined in. On 22nd September, in a month’s time, her remains are going to be taken back from Copenhagen to St Petersburg and put in a cathedral there.

  11. Did anyone go to this? I went on Saturday at about 3 and the only stall left was one selling paella. According to stall owner everyone else had packed up due to poor business.

  12. I looked in at lunchtime on Sunday and there was nothing there at all that I could see. I thought I must have had the wrong day.

  13. Exactly, Torie. I took my young brood to the Green on Saturday afternoon, saying, “There will be specialist Corsican meats to look at!” (They are vegetarian.) But when we got there, it was deserted. “Never mind,” I said cheerfully, “let’s go to the Rastafarian gathering in Lucas Gardens, that’s bound to be interesting.”

    What an afternoon.

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