Spitalfield Market

When I walked away from Spitalfield Market yesterday, I was thinking how long one year really is. What could you accomplish in that period? We know it encompasses four seasons. 365 days. People grow a year older in that period. It's been a year since I’ve broken up and forgotten about my last affair. People get promoted, demoted, sacked, they find new jobs. People die, new kids are born. The world’s population jumps up. Iraq war lingers on, with no hope of an end. Israel has manage to invade Lebanon. All the blood shed.

I met so many new people also. I moved into to a new house, sharing it with two lovely, elderly people. Ideal for me.

So many things to think of. So many things that could happen in a year. Yet, when I went to Spitalfield Market after a year, I was amazed to see what they’d turned an old market into. I couldn’t believe you could vanish and raise huge edifice so quickly.

I was off work. My finances needed restructuring, and in Liverpool Street, I had to visit my bank. When I came out of the meeting, it was well past two. I hadn’t had lunch. Spitalfield Market is just around the corner. Five minutes walk. The food you get there, from all around the world, is an enticer for anybody.

I had Thai curry rice in mind as I made my way to the market. Through alleyways, I eventually emerged in front of the market. The southern end of the big concourse that housed the market is yet to be touched by the building works. Outside, the old façade still greets you. Inside, the crumpling roof still hangs on, hoping to dangle on until it’s replaced.

I didn’t look at the northern end as I made my way to the food stalls. My hungry mind guided me past all the antics shops (familiar theme with Portobello Market. There is something about antics that always draws me) and I made my way to the where the restaurants were located. But the number of food stalls and restaurants had dwindled as building works crept ever closer. There were less chairs, less tables, less people and less shops.

The Thai stall had disappeared. I tried Indonesia. Their curry rice would score 6 out of 10. It was tasty but a miser behind the counter had provided me food enough to fill only half my stomach. It was expensive, considering how much I'd to pay. Spitalfield Market was never costly.

Naturally, the meal didn't take ages to finish.

On my way out, I decided to see the newly constructed northern part of Spitalfield Market. I was shocked and impressed. Glass does that to you. Whether it’s the mirror you’re looking yourself at, or a window through which you can see everything. Inside the new structure, glass roof of the concourse looked down upon you. In the middle, instead of wide open spaces, they’d erected a glass building. On the ground floor of the building, all kinds of shops and restaurants had sprung up. It felt modern, like being in a City, or in a glass box.

Whenever an old building gives way to such modern structure, you inevitably end up having mix feelings. There is something about an old building you get attached to. Maybe it's because you’ve seen it for years, like your Nan or your parents. You expect it to be there. Every time. Yet, the crumbling habitations need replacing. But despite the awe the new all glass edifice gave, it still didn’t charm like the old building.

What I was most surprised by though, was the pace of the construction. I was returning after a year. Back then, this place was raucous, as if people were having a shindig, with trucks and all kinds of instruments eating down the old building. Now, a somewhat serene build stood. All in twelve months.

One year is indeed a long time.