Peckham, world city

Photos of its best shop signs.

Time to go home and prepare to borrow large quantities of almonds and blackberries this weekend, but I just wanted to share these photos with you. As you come north into London suburbia past the Horny Man, Camberwell Old Cemetery (brilliant gypsy tomb near the north entrance), then across Peckham Rye Common, you have absolutely no inkling (so have one to steady yourself in The Rye) of the wondrous universe awaiting you on Rye Lane:


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  1. Number 5 (with its variant spelling of the suburb photographed) reminds me of the story of the Italian man who had to be removed from a London dancefloor to A&E on account of the large numbers of jumpers he was wearing to puff out what he saw as his inadequate torso to reach standard English discotheque sizes. If your page had been visible to that man, such vain overheating might have been averted.

    Most amusing, all of them. I particularly liked the determination of your bikinied novel reader, clearly trained in shutting out more detritus and visual noise from holidaying in Albania.

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