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November 2004—Alex Jorth
Return
to Covent Garden
It
was a gloomy, drizzly Sunday (the last Sunday of November)
when I decided to pay another visit to the Covent Garden
Market. However, the weather did not do anything to
diminish the booming amount of tourists. Clearly, no
one could resist such a festive atmosphere during this
joyous holiday season.
I
was by myself on this visit, which I predicted to be
an improvement of sorts over my last visit, not because
I didn’t appreciate my company, but because it’s
just easier, particularly in a place of such massive
crowds, to only worry about oneself. This time around
I could shop in whatever stores and check out whichever
street vendors I choose. Don’t get me wrong; I
love shopping with my girls. I really do. I love helping
them make important fashion decisions and hunt for the
best deals. However, store after store of women’s
clothing becomes a bit wasteful of my time, occasionally
making the solo trip more appealing.
The
entrance to the market looks as it did a couple of months
ago. From the tube station, the Italian-inspired piazza
building with its later-added glass roof stands attractively
at the end of James Street. James Street is chock full
of people; more so than I remember seeing before. The
holidays are indeed upon us. The crowds of people giggle
and scamper about amongst the various street actors
(who, not so much act, but stand painted in a dazzling
costume for money), who seem less and less impressive
to me every time I see them, whether it be here or under
the Eiffel Tower in Paris or en la Rambla in Barcelona.
Nevertheless, these “actors” get their share
of attention, swarmed by tourists both young and old,
mesmerized by them for the first time.
As
I squeezed my way through the crowd, I could feel the
festivity of the market place. Sure enough, as I got
closer, a huge Christmas tree stood tall at one end
of the piazza (which I later discovered to be called
Santa’s Grotto, where children can pay Santa a
visit if their parents cough up five quid). The tree,
glimmering with white Christmas lights, stands probably
three stories high and completely obscures the visibility
of St. Paul’s Church that stands behind. Well done.
At the other end of the piazza is a carousel, which
I don’t recall from my last visit. How sweet, another
two quid for something the kiddies cannot live without.
Next to it is a sign wishing everyone a “Merry
Christmas from the Covent Garden Market.” Just
beyond the carousel is the site that I find most endearing
about Covent Garden: the Theatre Royal Drury Lane. I
simply adore its name, and the way it stands, proudly
displaying it’s glitzy, glimmering sign that currently
advertises The Producers starring Nathan Lane. This
reminds me of the first time I came, and that sign boasted
Richard Dreyfus as the star of The Producers, come to
find he couldn’t sing! Now, they’ve miraculously
landed Nathan Lane and the show is sold out until February
(which those poor, sucker ticket-holders don’t
probably realize, is after Nathan Lane’s final
performance in early January). Brilliance. Thank God
I have my ticket.
As
I approached the entrance to the market, I heard loud,
excited cheering that actually sent chills up my spine.
The excitement of the holiday spirit was giving me warm
fuzzies! I eagerly crossed through the doorway to see
what the excitement was all about, hoping (from the
impressive cheers) to find Chinese acrobats. Instead,
I found a man performing his street theatre show; probably
the same man I had seen the last time, but that’s
all right. I stayed and watched anyway. He was funny
and performed some cool tricks that absolutely astounded
the kids. The joy he brings to their faces must be extremely
rewarding. But call me Mr. Scrooge, because after half
an hour of watching his show, I decided he had spent
too much time talking instead of doing tricks and denied
his request to leave two pounds in his hat. Bah humbug!
I continued down into the market where there was another
Christmas tree surrounded by wreaths and ribbons and
lights and decorations everywhere! But the good feeling
diminished quickly as I grew frustrated by immobility,
stuck in one of the aisles. I had no real agenda as
far as purchases went. I looked at some pashmina scarves
for the ladies in my family and some dangly earrings
that my sister would never wear despite my attempt to
spruce up her conservative fashion habits, but ultimately
bought nothing. I simply continued to get angry with
people for being in my way and stressed over being in
the way of others.
Finally,
in order to duck out of the crowds and the cold, I stumbled
into a small tea gift shop. What a fortunate accident!
First of all, free samples are always good, especially
when they’re of hot mulled wine. Then, as if it
weren’t wondrous enough, standing in a store full
of collectible teapots (which all happened to be on
sale!) reminded me of my mother’s teapot collection.
How had I missed out on Wittard of Chelsea, this glorious
gem of a hole-in-the-wall? I bought my mother an adorable
Big Ben teapot and cup and saucer; one of those single
serving stackable deals, you know? How perfect. She’s
going to love it. Despite the cold, and the hindering
crowds of people, the warmth of holiday cheer permanently
instilled itself in me as I departed for the underground.
On
my way, I dropped a few coins at the feet of Crazy Nik
and his Musical Construction Cone (without whom, no
visit to Covent Garden is complete). I carry my mother’s
teapot and think about my family and how I can’t
wait to give them their European gifts and share with
them all of my holiday spirit; a spirit that is truly
in abundance at Covent Garden.
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