Quietly, without really mentioning it to anyone, last month I left Bristol and moved to London. A friend of mine said: 'You never were a simple village girl, you know'. I hope he's right. There's nothing like getting battered and bruised by ticket barriers, caught in bleeping train doors and negotiating Oxford Circus at rush hour to make you feel like the simplest, villagest girl in the world. 

This weekend though, I finally had a chance to remind myself why I've been petitioning to move here for the last 5 years. 

I began with Brockley Market, south-east London's answer to Brooklyn's Smorgasburg and its antidote to London's vastly over-subscribed Borough Market. It is staged in a car park, as per Smorgasburg, and although currently missing the wild, inspiring variety and imagination of its Brooklyn counterpart (and any form of cold brew coffee, sadly), I'm sure its only a matter of time. I highly recommend the burgers


I wandered through Soho and Holborn and ate at the incredible Ducksoup. I am one for being totally intimidated by places with intriguing shop-fronts like Ducksoup's but once in, it was the most relaxed place I've ever eaten. No overbearing service, no pressure, no over-the-shoulder, expectant wine pouring – just small plates and waiterly knowledge, and the most incredible hanger steak. 


So, I consider myself reminded. Maybe there's room for me too.