Couples at Columbia road flower market squabbling over pots, plants and decor, incapable of making firm decisions. Relieved: At least we’re not the only ones.
A couple rushed into one store to return a large potted plant.
The androgynous one had dark glasses and was wearing a T-shirt that said “MORE ISSUES THAN VOGUE” in big bold helvetica, her other half, a voluptuous femme was in a black tie-up dress.
Both spent the next 5 minutes removing every plant of the same variety to check for height and leaf quality, blocking an entire end of the store while being wonderfully indecisive.
They were shortly followed by a male gay couple who overhearing me ask The Ex
“Are we taking a cab? I have no money.”
“There’s always one!”
While I certainly feel bonded to the fellow community, I’m also exhausted.
The ex spent much of the morning hissing at me because the call of the Mecca (Harrods) like a beacon was too strong, and apparently I’m not efficient enough getting to and fro Columbia road market.
Or walking, or looking at plants, or picking the plants or the correct pot size, shape and colour. In short: everything
Turns out what with all the squabbling, we seem to have lost a succulent. Crap.
I blame the ex entirely.
Good etiquette dictates you avoid quarreling in front of strangers. You hiss under your breath or merely raise an incredulous eyebrow. All subsequent conversation is conducted in suitably frosty tone to indicate displeasure until you get home.
While it’s been a fierce internal struggle I’ve reconciled myself to the idea that I lack the good breeding required to fight discreetly and spent much of the cab ride back alternatively sulking and scolding the ex for my succulent loss. Loudly.
Quite frankly, it was due. Payback for an entire morning of getting it.
Plants looking good though.
(Replaced the lost succulent promptly from the small flower stall in Angel)