Tooting

We meet friends in south London for an Indian experience. Tooting an urban area, dense, without trees nor greenery and snarling traffic inching down the High Street.  The shops mostly down-scale with "All For A Pound", Halal butchers, Vetec Electronics and etc and so on. Our friends delayed by a motorcycle accident which the ambulance cannot reach because of the two-lane two-way.

This might be a cool place to live with the right attitude : ethnic and vibrant : I see joggers pass elderly women in hajib. There are plenty of restaurants while the Undergound zips young professionals straight to the City.

I chat with Ms. Munawar of "Punjab Sweets & Restaurant" who tells me she and her husband bake everything behind the counter.  She is proud of her family business and I can only imagine how she got here.  There are a number of other staff with the women dressed in Sari and heads wrapped, faces partially covered, while the men in trainers, sloppy and casually uncaring while they really do. None of them speak passing English. At the back of the restaurant a mobile phone shop being installed. Not an inch to waste.

Madeleine: "Have you ever held a chinchilla?"
Me:
Madeleine: "You aren't taking me seriously, are you Dad?"
Me: "It's just that nobody has ever asked me that before."
Madeleine: "They are the size of a football. And cuddly."
Me: "Good to know."
Madeleine: "So can we get one?"
Me: "Talk to your mother."
Sonnet: "Oh, no, don't you dare."
Madeleine: "If Dad says it's Ok, can we get one?"
Sonnet: "We are not getting a chinchilla."
Me: "Let's get a goat!""
Madeleine: "Yes! Really?"
Sonnet: "Your Dad is winding you up, Madeleine."
Madeleine: "So a chinchilla is Ok then?"
Sonnet: "We are not getting a chinchilla. We are not getting a goat."
Me: "I was on your side, too, kid. "
Madeleine: "It is so unfair."