Breakfast in Deptford -- noted for Christopher Marlowe's demise

Our Borough of Lewisham in Southeast London has been listed recently as the "least safe" community in the United Kingdom.  Gang violence and knifings raise the figures.  There's nothing new about this reputation for Southeast London.  

We dine this morning merely a stone's throw from the pub where Christopher Marlowe met his tragic end in Deptford, Lewisham.  (Truth be told, as the leafy trees attest, I'm late in posting this visit to Deptford!)

But first let us walk along the streets of Lewisham between here and there. Past the quaint worker's homes of old and the mansions of Wickham Road, divided into flats and bedsitters for the immigrants from the West Indies a half century ago, now being scooped up by young professionals starting families, happy for the new rail lines that link Southeast London to the City with an easy commute.  

Past Friendly Gardens and the Ravensbourne River which winds its way through Lewisham to finally feed into the Thames at Deptford, 

Today, as often, Mr. Heron perches on branches overhanging the quiet stream,urban sentinel.

Lush flower boxes fill empty sills and entryways.

Garden allotments flourish under the loving hand of those who still crave fresh vegetables on their urban dinner tables.

Dickensian chimney pots scallop the skyline. One might expect a chimney sweep to pop out any moment with a bright, "Chim chim cheree." 

The "least safe" community in the United Kingdom.  Ah, how relative statistics such as these are to us who grew up with guns on the streets of Chicago and Washington D.C., and then spent years under the cloak of the violence of apartheid in South Africa, and finally fled Zimbabwe because of the government-condoned "thugs" ravaging our community in Plumtree, street by street, house by house.  "Least safe" in a land where even police officers do not carry firearms, and where we do not expect our neighbours to have a gun in the house.  Where we walk the streets at night actually expecting to arrive home without incident.

Except living in rural Mfanefile, Zululand, South Africa in the 1980's, I have never felt so safe in my home community.  We're not naive, but "least safe" in the UK means something different than "least safe" in the USA or South Africa!

We slip into Bianca Cafe on Deptford High Street, quiet now in the early morning hours.  Good hot food -- nothing like chips and beans for breakfast in Happy Husband's opinion!  I stick to my 2x2.  

Waves of customers fill the 18 seats. This place sparkles!  The premises are seriously clean -- even the seam where the tile floor meets the tiled wall! Our only complaints: Table 5 rocks, and the teabags arrive in our mugs, 

When shops open, we explore. High Street becomes an open-air market with tables laden with fish, plastic ware and fresh fruit and vegetables from foreign lands.

An unexpected treasure trove are the charity shops full of Ghanaian finery and saris.  

As we walk toward the Thames, hidden galleries and street arttreasures abound.  We'd heard that Deptford is famous for its Arts, but this is our introduction. Street art abounds -- murals, sculpture!  Quirky, moving, historic, beautiful!

Last, but not least, we "discover" the Parish Church of St Paul, hidden behind Council apartment blocks (public housing), almost upon the river bank, surrounded by a rose garden -- an oasis in the "least safe" corner of the UK.

We continue to the banks of the Thames, Greenwich to the east, Canary Wharf to the north. New expensive apartment highrises line the river.  Ah, Southeast London, rich and poor, old and new, side by side.  A great place to call home for a while.

Another delightful Breakfast in Britain!

A Rainbow over Ladywell Village Cafe

This morning’s threat of rain keeps us close to home.  A bright half moon and street lights glow as we walk over the hill.  London’s morning skyline shimmers. 

We pass our local NHS (National Health Service) Clinic -- there are enough free public clinics throughout London that there's almost always one near enough to walk to!  What a concept...health care on your doorstep!  And if you're getting older (60 or over) and that walk seems to long, hop on a city bus for free with your Pensioners Pass. Seems like a no-brainer to us.

Washington, are you watching?

We hike down into Ladywell Village where the “Village Café” welcomes us with smiles and mugs of piping hot tea.  

Two years ago our hosts took over the café’s management, installed attractive white and black tiles, and started serving “tea concentrate” – tea brewed extra-strong in a large pot, then served with diluted water, the way we enjoyed it in Zimbabwe.  No tea ba, to figure out where to put.  Just dark hot tea.  With hot milk, this is a treat today.  

Another pleasure is the absence of food photos – just the menu board and the shiny tiles, all the way to the loo! 

There’s a TV high in one corner, but thankfully the volume remains soft until “Dancing with the Stars” comes on.   Then it fades again.

The poached eggs on brown toast make a pretty picture. Happy Husband gratefully digs in.

The main street of Ladywell Village has been recently redone.  We were expecting trees and benches and something to show for the price tag.  The main feature is flagstones instead of pavement, but nothing green and no benches that might invite passers-by to loiter….except the two picnic tables under the awning in front of our own Village Café! 

 The proprietors explain that they have had to postpone external improvements.  Because this is a Conservancy Area, regulations require they use only wood on the front exterior, and for now the cost is prohibitive.Today workmen paint road surface traffic signs, and the windows get a wash

I realize I’m in a serious men zone; no other female (other than the proprietor) enters the Café during our two hour meal. Lots of take outs.  A favourite dish seems to be Bubble, a large green patty made from yesterday’s over-cooked (my opinion) Brussels sprouts mixed with…I’ll need to look that up.

The bonus of the morning...a rainbow stretching across Ladywell!

On our way, we encounter people 

who remind us that we really are in London.  And a row of derelict sheds – might they be protected by royal edict? – add a Dickensonian flare. 

We pass the towers and spires of the old Lewisham court and police station, recently refurbished into numerous flats. 

Lewisham High Street entertains us with its daily market which has continued for close to 100 years except for a few occasions during WWII when the High Street was mostly flattened by bombings.  Only the clock tower remains.  Smells of fish, bread and fruit surround us.

We load up with fresh Brussels sprouts, mangos and garlic, a pound sterling for a bowl of each.  

So, next time you're in Lewisham, at Ladywell Village, drop in to the Village Cafe and enjoy a hot cup of brewed tea.  They're open at 6:30 am!