A Walk on the Wild Side

I live in the Bloomsbury area of London, but Camden is only a ten minute walk away. It’s also the neighbourhood of Amy Winehouse, so I knew that a trip would be a walk on the wild side of life. It’s an area known for punk rockers, hippies, skaters and just generally being hard core.

We went for the Camden market where I’d read that you can get a lot of neat stuff (rain boots, purses, piercings, vintage clothing and jewellery, fruit or wooden furnishings). And I’m also a sucker for a good market.

Camden market on a Saturday morning is a bustling place. The main road is blocked off and people fill the sidewalks, street and market like plaque on artery walls. And there really were a lot of really fun stuff there. I saw a stall of pocket watches and for the first time in my life contemplated buying a pocket watch. I started thinking of all the things I could do with it and how cool I'd look with one. Needless to say I didn’t buy it. But I walked away with a beautiful teal purse that I bartered down to £12. I left the rain boots—the reason I’d originally gone to the market—as they were too wacky for me. There were some with little cherries and others with skulls and bones.



After perusing the stalls we crossed the street to what seemed like the “higher class section,” or the hippie area. Here we were bombarded with hand crafted woodwork and jewelery, aromatic incense and plush Indian textiles. It was all gorgeously set up and the goods were all quite impressive. The friend I was with is moving in with her boyfriend next year so we had fun decorating her non-existent flat.


When we’d had enough, we sat on the locks near some body of water and took in the sunshine. I marvelled at the fact that although it was October I wasn’t wearing a jacket and was actually comfortable.


On our way back to the main road we stuck by the water. As we were leaving we saw a bunch of teenagers, all dressed in black. Some were smoking cigarettes some not, but all were listening to loud rock music I didn’t recognize and teasing each other. A small group gathered around two pre-pubescent boys fighting, while the crowd cheered them on like betters at a cock fight (though I've never been to a cock fight, this is how I imagine it to be).

Walking through it was a surreal experience. I looked at my friend Erika and we both had that pained, slightly terrified look in our eyes, despite the fact that there were hundreds of people around and it was in broad daylight. And that these kids were 15 years old. Saying nothing I tried to scoot around the brawl as quickly as possible, but was accosted by a stray flailing arm that struck me lightly in the arm. I kept walking and kept my head down. When we were free of the kids Erika and I looked at each other.

“I’m not going to lie,” I said, “but I was a little afraid of those kids for a second.”

“Me too,” she said.

“Man, we’re getting old,” I said