New apprenticeship scheme?

You can never start ‘em too young! This headline conforms to the image Peckham holds in the imagination. They’re all out nicking, aren’t they?

Well, no. On Peckham Rye at the weekend, there were A-4 home-made posters tacked to trees and railings appealing for help in finding a ‘loved ferret’. There was the couple walking at the right pace for their three-legged Yorkshire terrier. And, a game of five-a-side football; three of the players were women. A land of contrasts.

Do I look pretty in this?

Dogs feature large at the annual Peckham Rye Fete. Held this weekend, the fete, as usual, attracted lots of people who ambled and did things like eat cakes, buy ephemera, watch Punch & Judy, chat and generally gather on the common land as if we were at a medieval fair. I bought books, garden plants (six for a fiver), and a pot of ‘sunrise’ marmalade, which is a layer of lemon over orange. Last time I came across the word sunrise attached to something I could consume, it was a tequila sunrise but that was a long time ago. The greatest attraction of the fete, though, is always the dog show. This boxer was a contender in the fancy dress competition. He didn’t win, but he was a contender. 

Dogs, balls, poo

People in Peckham like to do it large. And, so do their dogs. A friend’s dog is known as Two-Balls Alfie because he’s only happy if walking with two balls in his mouth. One winter morning as I crossed Peckham Rye I saw a woman scooping up her dog’s poo into a plastic bag. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘what a way to start the day.’ ‘Well,’ she said, ‘it warms your hands up.’

The 6:17

 I wrote the poem last autumn. It’s inspired by a sight on the Rye. Since I don't have a photo of scuds of leaves, here's one of a maple tree caught in a last blaze of colour.

The 6:17

under a lemony sky

a litter of leaves lay

on the green

till a sudden breeze

raised them from their

recumbency

to send them rushing

like commuters racing for

the 6:17

Has bin

I was waiting for the bus when I took this photo. I don’t know what the crow was waiting for. (It perched on the bin for a long time.) Possibly its dinner: discarded KFC or McDonald’s, perhaps. Crows are adept at getting their food needs met. They will use their feet and beak to secure and open a bag of crisps, for instance. And, they’ll wade in to any gathering of lesser-sized birds to grab the goods. I like the way they walk, a little pigeon-toed, a little wide-of-the-mark, as if they’ve just got off a horse. They levitate like helicopters when setting off to fly. As to the cawing, it’s distinctive and that’s the best you can say about it.

A pleasant fate

Punch and Judy. Home-made marmalade. Dog show. Cake tent. Book stall. Crocheted tea cosies. Sack race. A coconut shy. Beer and Pimms. The Peckham Rye Fete, held yesterday, managed, as it always does, to suspend time and place. And this year it was hot, enhancing the feeling that we weren’t quite in 21^st Century inner London in September.

A pleasant fate

Punch and Judy. Home-made marmalade. Dog show. Cake tent. Book stall. Crocheted tea cosies. Sack race. A coconut shy. Beer and Pimms. The Peckham Rye Fete, held yesterday, managed, as it always does, to suspend time and place. And this year it was hot, enhancing the feeling that we weren’t quite in 21^st Century London in September.

Frank's in Peckham

Summer in downtown Peckham is marked by the opening of Frank’s Cafe (now in its fifth year). It’s in a car-park and is reached by heaving open an unmarked metal door and by persevering through dismal layers of concrete up to the top floor where the views and the smell of grilled sardines and the pink of Campari cocktails and the sight of sculptures that pirouette in the skyline will reward you. 

Shocking news: more snow has fallen: we're British and we can't cope!

The country has come to a halt. Transport has ceased. Hospitals are filling up with the injured (well, if you will go out, what do you expect?) Flu crisis pending. Politicians sharpening their knives to make more cuts. Shops running out of tinsel. What can one do? Why, make a snowman of course. Put that pent-up energy into making a thing of foolery.

ART

The Daimler was parked by Peckham Rye. It was awaiting the bride who was conventionally late. In the photograph you can just see, swimming in the shiny surface, a reflection of the Rye. Art, but is it?