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Monday, 3 January 2011

Elementary, my dear Watson.

So me and Miss Watson, i just call her Elly, it makes it easier for conversation you see, well we went on good word of her grandfather (a rather interesting chap) that somewhere near east india station by the Docks is a great little area full of intrigue.

Kitted out with huge scarves and even larger mittens, we hit the docks like hungry dogs hunting in new territory. Well sort of. We found odd structures, larger than me by far, that photographed very well. Smaller but no less impressive bronze sculptures, one of a house on wheels another a fish. Two great beautiful pillar box red lightships that rocked like the 50's.



A huge cabin-esque raised diner called Fatboys, kitted out with rusting shiny steel exterior with lashings of red paint and a bar inside with tall stools that craved Elly and mines warm exterior as we sip away gleefully on oversized milkshakes. However Fatboys was closed being a bank holiday. So that fantasy was over, on to the next.




A tiny wooden cabin beckoned us with a sign saying 'The Faraday Effect'. Watson and I were quick to investigate and our suspicions were correct, it was a small museum, a tribute almost of the one and only Michael Faraday. I urge you to visit the well designed website fourthwallcreations.com for further nosing. The exhibit was created for Urban Space management, the scientist who had involvement with the creation of the Experimental Lighthouse and other work at the Docks. More interestingly, Elly read that despite being a scientist, he was crazy religious and did his work for God with the belief that his purpose to create what he could. He declined an offer from the government to create some form of poisonous something or other for something (ask Elly, I've forgotten) as it was against God and the purpose he had on earth. Who would'a known it.


Not so far from there was a set of quite ordinary looking buildings that appeared to house artists at work. As we sneaked around corners light footed as if raiding the fridge way after bedtime, we heard a man talking on the phone. If I could speak the language i would have said he was effing and blinding and oh so suddenly i wasn't keen on turning that corner, no matter what tasty goodies were awaiting. Only to hear in a very cohesive english accent;
"Hello Trouble!"
Instead of my usual coy reaction to both voice and title, I turned startled to face an old friend from when I was a market trader at Camden Lock Market.
"What are you up to then?"
"Nosing", was my smug reply, relieved.
"Come on in, come see the office", and we obediently followed into the wall to ceiling glass windows, ground floor, graphic designers office-pad-room of slick.
"This building is all artistic offices and workshops. Everyone here produces something, and even the surrounding funny looking flats are all artists."
"Nice. I want a place like this. So how long have you been set up here.?"
"Oh this office maybe 3 months but i was upstairs for about 8 months. Was waiting for this one see. If you want to work here, you have to get a room with a view.", He gestured to the window. He was right. I'll note that tip down.




Thanking him politely we left the way we came, having discovered enough for the day. I should explain about my friend from Camden and why I don't state his name in this piece. When you work on the market, it's traders verses customers. Customers linger and don't buy and Traders are pushy and talkative. Everyone dislikes everyone, so the traders stick together. They all chat, holla "MORNING!" over the lock to familiar faces and always help out a newbie. But names aren't a topic of conversation, opening sentences with trader new and old involve the weather, lack of custom, too much custom, the weather again. 
I myself worked for two different companies and had a stall of my own as well as working in a tea shop there, all over a span of about 2-3years. In this time my friend I chatted weekly, but we knew the rules and never discussed names or simply forgot them. I think his name is Yan. Should have just referred to him as that, would have saved the big explanation.



Also I like to climb things.
Photographs by Elly Watson.


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