IN MEMORY OF WAHEEDA,S MUM,IN PRAISE OF STOIC WAHEEDA

It is not very often that I find that I am tongue tied. I found myself in that rare situation ,unable to utter a word last week when my sometime kitchen help, Waheeda, told me she had breast cancer.For the umpteenth time last wednesday, ,she had rapped on my door "come in " I yelled trying to outdo the whirr of my extractor fan. She smiled, the same painful smile I,d noticed over the past three weeks each time she tried to find me less busy so she could talk. I,d always rattle on about my own "problems" which in comparison to the burden she,d been carrying now shamefully seem so trivial. First I,d rattled on about how my highly strung girl toddler had whacked at the telly in our living room with her toy microphone and cracked the screen. Next,it was the fact that I was so busy with the kids and work that I  hadn,t been able to visit my hairdresser to get my hair done.On each and every occasion, she,d listened intently and offered advice and had gone away promising to call or perhaps see me the following week and in all that time , she,d been literally dying to tell me!I,d never felt more vain in my life! My eyes welled up  with tears as I gave her a warm embrace and searched for the right words to say but none forthcame.
There was a reason the right words refused to suffice. Last year after a sudden diagnosis of cancer, Waheeda,s mum died. Herself and I had struck up an unusual friendship which benefited me greatly as she was so full of  wisdom.I came to regard her as a second mum . She freely offered maternity advice  and I will always regret that she did not get to meet my baby girl whom she had so rightly predicted before I had even gone for my first scan.! I still miss her wholesome advice and help and humour.Dear God ,please help mankind eradicate cancer !
"I am going nowhere I have my baby boy to take care of " Waheeda  said  steel in her voice.She has a 7 year old son. "Of course you are going nowhere we won,t let you " I said remembering the story I recently read about a woman who managed to beat her cancer into remission by altering her diet with anti oxidant rich foods such as almond milk,tumeric and spinach.I made a mental note to do some more research as I searched her face  achingly fearful  of what the future must now hold not just for her but for every woman  including those like myself who are afraid to feel their own breasts for lumps hoping that it may never happen to them.
May I use this opportunity to thank you dear readers for reading. I apologise for not writing more often. I promise to write more regularly next year. May all your Xmases be safe. Tons of love. Kiru.

I GET THE CHRISTMAS ITCH AGAIN

Every year ,about this time, I get it into my head that I can make money by running a stall either at a shopping Centre or Christmas markets selling non food items. Last year , I put my thesis to the test by bulk buying ladies fashion items like handbags , jewellery and scarves.I made no money. In fact I still have a giant suitcase filled with all and sundries that I could not shift from last Christmas occupying a much needed space in my flat and I am sure they are so last season now. My daughter has taken to helping herself to the fashion jewellery and scarves .In the last couple of months ,she has helped herself to  two sets of hat and scarves for her friend,s birthday presents. You know your business plan needs serious reviewing when family members begin to help themselves to your  stock without any qualms.Despite this, I have been going through the catalogues sent to me by wholesalers I purchased from last year and wondering if I could perhaps make a better go of it this year. The boyfriend has already made it clear he would not be helping me sell these under any imaginative circumstance.Suffice it to say that I am on my own here. I quite rightly decided to ignore the urge until my my baby toddler, whilst playing with my phone, inadvertently phoned  continental markets.  A couple of years back, I had a successful stall at their Christmas market at Ealing shopping centre but I sold food.I am superstitious. I take this to mean that a higher power is  keen for me to run a Christmas market or stall "Who is this ?" the voice at the other end barked probably pissed at being called so early in the morning. I sought to perform some sort of damage control and put my best voice forward. "How are you Shar sorry for ringing this early in the day but are you  running any Christmas markets this year?" No absolutely none at all this year came the reply.Perhaps I should organize one myself I thought. Oh but for the very high financial risk involved in paying to hire a shopping centre space for  weeks in a row and pay the fees upfront. Thing is, hard up street traders are reluctant to pay all that money in advance even for an established market and  less so for an untested Xmas themed one.I decided  I won,t be seeing my bank manager any time soon to discuss the  possibility of borrowing to fund one. "Fool" my entrepreneurial alter ego taunted in my head . I ignored the naughty little voice.
But the hypothetical profit I can make from  making a killing as it were, has refused to leave my thoughts. I find myself browsing through the latest catalogue I have received , of a job lot of  100 assorted ladies shoes for the price I paid recently for 2 pairs of winter boots at TK MAXX  and before you think it is a job lot of substandard rubbish,methinks  not so. The pictures and the quality guarantee tells me they are sourced from a reputable high street retailer which has gone bust. So by my calculation if I bought 10 lots of these and sign up to one of the promising Xmas markets currently flooding my inbox,and decorate my stall cheerily and price my items right,I might just kill it. Easier said than done though. The reality is that I am rubbish at selling anything else but my food.  I am my own most severe critic and I know that I  have not taken any stellar retailing course to buck the trend  and it is hard for me to be passionate about something unless I genuinely believed in it. And perhaps that may be partly to blame for my inability to shift last years gear. But like one friend said when I lamented my dilemma to her. What has passion got to do with it? It,s Xmas . Everyone has got to buy a present for someone .Now if only that was true of my experience last year.
The shops are not letting up. The season of unrelenting Xmas ads have begun and the trader in me find it impossible to just sit there and make merry.I,ve got to get in on the action. There,s got to be something I can sell  to partake in the festive windfall. I need inspiration before all the Xmas markets get fully booked. As I write this ,my phone pings. It is Busy bee candles advising me to take advantage of the 10%extra offer on Xmas orders. Now there,s an idea!

I AM PUSHED TO WRITE A RECIPE BOOK

So the boyfriend wins. We have fought and debated.Him pulling his hair out trying to understand why I choose not to write a cook book. Our customers have since long tired of asking if and when a  recipe  book will become available. "Sometime in the near future" was always my hazy reply. If the truth be told , the reason I haven,t done so in the past can be attributed to ill discipline. In all the years that I have cooked for this street trading business,and weddings and huge parties and festivals and ran my own restaurant, I have never measured anything. All the ingredients that I have used in my recipes and the quantities are neither measured nor written down. I suppose this attitude  stems from coming from a large family and a culture where you never really know how many people you are cooking for but must ensure that food is available should a guest arrive. Woe betide you if it be known that an unexpected guest arrived your home and  left on an empty stomach!"How can I write a recipe book without first determining what quantities of ingredients the readers will need"? I,d fired back at the boyfriend who,d been on my case  from the moment we met.Lately I,d taken to telling him he was putting undue pressure on me.A case of the best defence being  attack and attack even if unfairly. So let me be fair.  Without my miserable Angel, I would still be struggling to understand why and how the goldmine that was Camden lock market came to disappear before my very eyes and my nostalgia clinging thoughts would still be  holding me prisoner in that  now desperately conditioned market. I would still be trading there stooped and draped in clothes best suited for the North pole in the winter and praying for the summer to last long enough to recoup all the losses we had incurred during the cold weather.Camden had become an albatross but I refused to acknowledge it. I summoned the courage to leave after many months subsidizing its existence with takings from Greenwich market only because the boyfriend forced me to do the unpalatable maths."Wake up and smell the coffee"  he continuously nagged.  The heartache and high blood pressure inducing stress that I have suffered from being removed from first, Greenwich Market,then Shephereds markets (more on all these removals in later blogs) and lately UCL has meant that the  the boyfriend has taken the brunt of my misplaced anger but he has also been a constant reminder of the futility of trading at individual run markets.According to him,I should only now trade at my own self organized markets or festivals.  I finally agreed to start writing my recipes down and to work out what quantities after I received a letter from Her majesty,s court services,advising that a charlatan market organiser I am suing for a return of the exorbitant fees my company paid to attend an event he fraudulently misrepresented is contesting my claim. Such is the nature of London street trading now that a new age market organiser can call a lunch time market a festival and refuse to return the fees paid by traders even when it is so obvious that he was pulling a fast one and blatantly ripping traders off .On the same day, I receive an email advising that It had not been possible to refund a payment I made to cater at the cancelled Ring Master festival at Hopton Court. The life lesson here is always to pay for purchases especially those of not immediate consumption with credit and not debit card.My bank assures me it will try to get me a refund from paypal if the event organizer won,t cough up.
You might wonder dear reader why if I have such wonderful recipes and street trading is such a fuss, do I not open a restaurant?. Thing is, been there, done that. Would not now touch it with a barge poll. Then,  I  was younger and had only a teenage daughter to mummy but yet the stress of  running  it made my hair fall out in clumps . Currently, as you are aware, I have 2  blessed toddlers who demand all of my sleep deprived attention. Therefore, I must cook and perhaps write but with a   flexibility that  curls around their routine.
So, no rest for the wicked then. I must not only keep trading at markets this winter, I will also be diligently working on my first recipe book. Now if only I can find that  measuring jug!

I GET LITERALLY KICKED TO THE KERB AT UCL (2)

I got to trade at UCL again during freshers week 2011.Unbeknown to me, I was already trading with the organiser of the Monthly market there,John Shephered but was never invited.I put the reason down to my stall being only a recent addition to his long list of traders.I remember when Zack my neighbour at the industrial  unit where I prepared my food  who was already trading at his markets,passed his contact details to me. He,d said "just call him but not too often.He can be strange in his ways . Maybe you,ll get into one of his markets maybe you,ll get into all" I however did not take Zack,s advise and rang him incessantly. The poor old bloke must have thought a tornado hit him and perhaps allowed me to trade at his market in Regents Place just to stop me from ringing his phone number.
John Shephered is arguably the most important name in London Street Trading scene and has markets in prime spots like St Katherine,s dock, Canary Wharf,Victoria,Duke of York Square in Chelsea et al. Before long, he would invite me to trade at St Katherine,s dock so ,I did not want to rock the boat .I was also on the verge of loosing my stall at Greenwich market and nursing my tenderly aged son.Besides, I observed that other traders who were invited to his very busy markets had one thing in common;they were mostly  very subservient indeed and asked how high ?when Mrs Shephered  asked them to jump. I mention the Mrs because  It was an open secret that if the Mrs took a disliking to you, You were Kaput , a gonner, your days at Shephereds markets were numbered. I decided to turn a new leaf in his markets and stifle any strong opinion I may have.I am not a shrinking violet by nature but why have an opinion and hawk great food and not get invited to his markets when other traders with less popular food than yours but who are meek do not feel the bite of the recession  because they were offered more great  markets than they can handle? I had a baby to feed and bills to pay.The trouble was that  I neither look nor sound meek. I am one of those people whom you meet and the word FEISTY! screams at you. Anyhow, so as we were invited by him that freshers week, I sent the boyfriend to trade.  The University contact for the market bought our food and enjoyed it and wondered why we did not come more often. The boyfriend does not do protocol and quickly launched into the reason he thought we were not invited to the monthly market. The boyfreind has gone and not only put our feet in it, he stirred our financial feet in it.We will now definitely get kicked out of John,s market  because word will get back to him that we tried to get   into UCL behind his back !I lamented the wisdom in sending the boyfriend in place of a staff  to trade that day . If we were never to get another chance at this uni I might as well write the contact. So I carefully worded my email to the contact applying to trade there.  Lets just say that the email did not get us in but it was the catalyst to my inclusion to trade at the new KERB run ensemble from January of 2013
During the university,s 2012 Christmas Fair some student officers  approached me and offered regret that despite their efforts ,Mr Shephered had refused to invite my stall and others that they had chosen to trade at the monthly market. By now I had organised successful markets in Kingston and Highwycombe  and suggested to them that I would be willing to run the market with their chosen stalls and mine.Fair game then when Media Savvy KERB got the gig.Part of the deal  was that my stall and two other stalls were included in the trader line up.
So, come January, I was glad and willingly offered advice on parking, average sales, trading times and more when KERB colonels emailed and called me  before the first market seeking advice.But like a festering wound, the ugly head of envy and pettiness you would not expect from an outwardly professional outfit like that, reared its ugly head. The manager of the market on the day constantly went up to the boyfriend saying "You are busy aren,t you "?The next month , I got email advising myself that I was not welcome to the market for the February event. There was no precise date for my return.In essence, I had to either curry favour with them, or be subservient in order to continue.Why were all these market organisers ego trippers and petty? I have yet again become a victim of my own success.
I had indirectly traded with KERB once during the Olympics and  had applied to be on their list before UCL but that was before I became aware of the sometime percentage rule which I detest. They never approved my application and I never followed it up.  Because market organising is unregulated, and majority of the traders are foreigners, traders are invariably treated with contempt by almost every  market organizer. These organizers know that there is no real representative body for traders. A lot of these recession -regurgitated new breed market organizers are blatantly getting away with murder!.  There really is no need for any market organizer to be ruthless. The world of street trading is fickle enough. Methinks that  Markets held at university premises, should be run by scrupulous individuals with the determinant of attending stalls being how busy they are. Students decide which stalls they favour by vote if possible and the organizer is informed. It is reprehensible to remove stalls favoured by students with the ones you think they want because the busy stalls do not belong to your fraternity or the stallholders refuse to fan the organiser,s ego. UCL has produced great minds and leaders and is one of the  world,s top ranked universities.Ought  it continue to allow an outfit that have behaved with impunity to continue organizing its monthly market? I am happy that on the 25th of September , I went to the market and  demonstrated with a lone placard,just me myself and I.To whom it may concern, I never for once believed that I was granted a perpetual right to trade at UCL but the contract with KERB is still ongoing .Why should KERB unilaterally amend  or alter the terms of the contract by removing the three stalls it was told to include monthly?. And why should such a bastion of western civilisation allow such autocracy as KERB have displayed, in its university campus?
I ,thank the students who on the 25th,of September, curiously came ,inquired why I was demonstrating  and enraged, signed my petition. I am inspired not defeated by my experiences at UCL and  at other markets and I will now harness this experiences to set up an organization to fight the corner of the long suffering London street trader We must have good some  litigation lawyers though.Hands up any offers?

I GET LITERALLY KICKED TO THE KERB AT UCL (1)

As the holiday period for Students drew to an end, Yours truly was really looking forward to returning to UCL . No, I am not a student there, neither is it my Alma Mater. I have had a market stall at the monthly food market  currently run by KERB Foods since January. However, my association with the Great institution began much earlier. In December 2010 to be precise. Then,my company was  was invited by a market organizer named Angela Cash  to trade at the Christmas Fair and It was love at First Trade!

I now reminisce . Ingrid, my friend and fellow trader who sold Falafel  at Camden market had phoned me on Monday following a very bad weekend trading at Camden to ask if I met the "the woman" hunting traders for her event at UCL. I told her to expatiate. And she did.  During the humdrum that was business in Camden that Sunday this woman had come armed with pen and paper taking details of Stallholders and their numbers and inviting almost every trader from the West Yard to what she promises will be a very busy event.But you had to pay up front and the fee equalled what we paid in Camden but the fair was to be held  on a weekday. This was new territory for us. I had taken the leap and expanded to Greenwich market when the management at Camden began flooding it with so much food .So ,Ingrid  wanted to know if I would be brave enough to take the risk. I said it depended on whether" the woman "contacted me as I was sure my staff would have given her my number but that It was more likely than not that I would do it. Food markets rarely do well at Christmas because Tourists are less about and visitors to markets favour Arts and Craft stalls as they search for presents for their loved ones.So, it made sense to find more trading opportunities.

Later that day I got a call from the market organiser. I said I will be happy to trade at UCL. I rang Ingrid back"I am doing UCL" I said."Me too but do you think Falafel would sell there?" I don,t know Ingrid but you make the best Falafel so I wouldn,t worry about not selling. I am in the same boat as you.This is uncharted territory for me as well.
The weather forecast the week before the Christmas fair was bleak. It was going to snow continuously for 3 days was the prediction. We prayed that the forecasters get it wrong as they were prone to do.They,d got it wrong on so many occasions that we were hopeful that it will only snow for one day max. I remember one August bank holiday when storm was forecast and I,d decided that  I was going to trade at Camden, storm or drought and the storm never came.But damn! the forecasters got it right this time. 3 days before the event,it was still snowing and London,s streets looked as white as The White company,s Linen sheets!.Our worry transcended the students bothering to walk the slippery pavements to patronise the market. We  the traders work with various heavy cooking utensils and propane gas that we carried with us.Even I, who rarely cancelled markets  was beginning to wonder how to cut my impending costs. Should I go to this Fair ? Should I not?  I wrestled with my thoughts and decided to minimise my overhead should the students and staff not bother turning up  because of the adverse weather condition. I will not attend with any staff. I shall  blackmail my daughter into  coming with me!. She wanted a Blackberry that Christmas and that  sort of  Berry did not grow on trees! I could already here her protest about the freezing conditions and why she couldn,t come along but I was certain that the thought of owning the new phone will trump her fear of working in the snow .
I gave myself 45 minutes to get to UCL on the day of the Fair and hit an almighty traffic jam on the A40. The road was gritted but motorists were being very cautious as every travel update warned us to be wary of black ice. Ingrid rang while I was still stuck in traffic. "Where are you Kiru? Everyone ,s set up and the woman is calling for your blood"  "She can have my blood when I get there but till then, I am stuck in traffic." I replied  "You are always stuck in traffic" she said sarcasm in her voice. "We didn,t get here by helicopter you know we all had to drive to this place and we all made it in time" "Is it busy then are you selling?"I asked ignoring her lecture. "No and my feet is drenched. The snow has not been cleared where the stalls are set up so that if you are not wearing insulated waterproof shoes , it is really atrocious" I wondered  again whether to turn back.My daughter advised that we did  but I carried on. I arrived an hour late.
"What time do you call this Ms Cash barked as the security at UCL reluctantly allowed my van through the gates. ".I told her to check her phone as I had left messages for her because I was trapped in traffic.She gave me 10 minutes to unload.
As we unloaded, I gladly noticed that the students were braving the adverse weather and were indeed coming out and queueing up in front of the food stalls and that the Sausage stall especially was very busy. This may yet be worth it I thought.
From the moment I was ready to sell, I had a queue. Now, dear reader, this was how my love affair with UCL began.The weather was nasty and I was late but I was fairly busy regardless.This is the litmus  test every seasoned trader set themselves before deciding on continuing to trade at any market. If you break even on a day like this , GRAB that market with both hands . The uni loved  my food. I made a mental note to love it back.Now if only Ingrid was having a ball like I was. Ingrid suddenly appearead.  I took one look at her face and noted that she wasn,t  and her words that followed confirmed it. "I cant believe it Kiru you mean you came late and you got the best spot? You have an almighty queue.! I want to leave now .It is dark where we are.I have only sold 6 portions of Falafel. I wish I  hadn,t come. I wanna go home now"! She whined. I couldn,t say anything to her as I was busy  attending the  queue . Moments after  Ingrid walked back to her stall, I could hear her demand a return of her fees from Angela. But I had a different kind of worry;How do I become a regular feature at UCL?

FARA MY OLD FRIEND AND EX STAFF GETS ON MY NERVES

It was a very wintry cold January morning, when I agreed to test drive a neighbours van round the industrial estate  where I cooked. I,d lost my van to agents of DVLA last july(more on this at some point in the future).I decided to quickly head to the local Asda .There were loads of bargain to be had probably saving me more money than my local cash and carry on many items. I cut out the engine and decided to start the engine impromptu again and as I revved the engine again and again, I saw from my mirror a woman carrying grocery  loose her balance and drop to the ground, her shopping scattering all around her. Another motorist got to her aid before I could. As the motorist helped  her up I noticed she looked frail and harassed but her face rekindled a warm  memory in me . I soon reconciled the face. It was Fara . We had worked together at my first job as a student in the early nighties. Why? I thought had she not aged into a vintage beauty. She used to be very pretty with huge brown eyes and a mass of unruly curly hair that  cascaded  down her back. Whatever happened to my old friend I thought. Life must have been cruel to her as she looked a shadow of her old self." Fara you ok? remember me Kiru from St Martins.?"
"I remember you she said" and burst into tears.
We both thanked the good Samaritan and after gathering her groceries, proceeded to  Asda,s Cafe so she could recuperate before continuing on her journey home. I found that  Fara had been injured somehow at the old factory where we worked by over exposure to freezing working conditions.   During our conversation she continued to be very teary  and this concerned me." Can I come and work for you"? She asked" I don,t want any payment  you can pay me whatever you want I am not greedy." she continued. She laughed when I suggested she might yet regret that no payment offer as January was always the most difficult time for our business in terms of cash flow.
Hastily and forgeting that  cardinal rule of business, I offered her a job that I really didn,t have to offer. I hated cleaning and having fired my kitchen assistant on the day I had my baby last year, I had been waiting for business to pick up before hiring another help.
Fara brought Sparkle into my kitchen from the moment she handled the mop head.I didn,t think my good old Cookworks fryer could look any newer. she meticulously and patiently scrubbed new life into old and tired equipments. I was tempted to ring my nemesis at my local environmental health office and invite her for an inspection  so I can gloat. She always complained of my unwillingness to throw away old equipments and declutter my unit. But   caution reigned over premature exuberance. And rightly so. For of course, though I paid Fara money the company couldn,t really afford ,for Job I needed done, she did not see this as proper work and talked far too much about every single thing relevant,important or not and this of course impacted on my ability to work quickly and efficiently.Yours truly is currently permanently sleep deprived owing to my two beautiful toddlers bless them! Any one who has ever worked with me including and especially the boyfriend knows that I hate being spoken to when I am cooking.How do I get fragile Fara to shut up? Worse still she knew my work time table so that even when I told her that I didn,t need her she would still turn up and help and I would   be obliged to pay her.
During that hot spell in June when Londoners advisedly ate little I ceased the opportunity to steel my resolve to gently lay her off. "Fara" I began as she peeled some maris piper  with a small pen knife she,d insisted on bringing from home.(she didnt like using potato peelers!) "I think you need to take a break next week. I won,t be working because of the hot spell. We are not making any money at the markets" ." I,d been thinking of setting up my own street food company"!  she blurted out in response."Wow that,s that,s brilliant I lied, flabbergasted and genuinely worried for my old friend.  "You  must tell me what to do , which markets to trial,how much I would need to invest, where to buy my equipments ......." " Enough already Fara  THIS job is not easy and I don,t think you are strong enough to take the knocks and  grind of this industry" .Despite my best efforts to dissuade her from taking this plunge ,she stuck to her gun so  I gave up and cursed the day DVLA impounded my van because the boyfriend forgot to pay the road tax.I would not have test driven my neighbour,s van  to Asda and would certainly  not have bumped  into Fara and would not therefore be party to the impending heartache she will  inevitably experience especially with the charlatans that run some of  markets she will  trial .I  arranged for her to take a basic food hygiene course and to obtain public liability insurance and reluctantly gave her details of two starter markets .Two weeks later the daily phone moans began. First it was "How very labour intensive the business was" then it was the shafting of the market organisers,then what did I think about her abandoning her original cuisine and cooking falafels instead?.
Untill further notice, my daughter is under instruction to sweetly dismiss Fara,s calls with "My mum will call you back later" surely my sanity comes before friendship.!

RE:FIRST CHELSEA FOOTBALL GAME :WE WENT, WE SAW , WE DID NOT CONQUER

So came last Sunday. The long awaited first  market organised solely around the hype of up to fifty thousand Chelsea fans. This was going to be the first of many. I expected a massive trader turn out and the desperate traders of London did not disappoint.I will tell you who was there. There were three Jamaican jerk stalls, a Portuguese stall, Two Turkish stalls, one Pastry stall,two fruit juice stalls,one Ghanaian stall,one Thai stall, one Chinese stall, one Chinese stall not selling Chinese food Stall, One Roast Hog Stall, one Sausage/hot dog stall, one Venezuelan stall.There were many more stalls but because I arrived late, I couldn,t really take it all in but the boyfriend had rung me earlier as he went to set up."Guess what Kiru" he had asked? and I hate it when he does that. He is a die hard fault finder."No I am not guessing nothing and I don,t want you dampening my spirits .Whatever you may have found out, we cant back out now we have already paid up" " Listen to this" he continued,ignoring my reply."There are about 20 food stalls here and they include the usual suspects.You know, your friends from some of your previous markets and I have just spoken to a shop keeper and he is staggered that there are so many food stalls here today because we are not in the path of most of the fans" . A swear word involuntarily escaped my lips. He cautioned me.It was too late. I had already  prepared food for at least 200 fans. Under normal circumstances this is not a an unachievable target but even Jamie Oliver would struggle to make this sale in an over clogged market with detouring fans.I cursed  and uncursed the organizer. Times were hard and just like me, everyone, the market organizer and the vendors alike were all trying to make impossible ends meet.
After our food was displayed, the severity of the disaster that was this market hit me  when at 5 pm,about an hour after the game started we had only taken £53 quid! We would be required to start packing up at 7pm! What if this was it? we had paid £80 to be there. My heart sank as I surveyed other traders reactions.One trader  bit into his thumb .Another cupped his chin.The Chinese stall holder who was not selling Chinese food  made his way towards my stall. "Busy"? He joked. The irony was not lost on me . "Yes too busy that I can,t even talk to you" We both laughed nervously as we both agreed that perhaps we should have done some more research on the route taken by the fans before blindly storming Fulham with so much food.
Half time came and we breathed a sigh of relief as I had a few sales.But then as suddenly as it had begun, the trade stopped when the game resumed. Perhaps there is hope yet I hoped.Then without warning at just before 7, I saw them. A sea of blue shirts of various heights and build flooding towards the square. The boyfriend lit all our  stoves and the aroma from the heated food drew the hungry ones to my stall and we began to sell. Long may it continue I prayed.For the next hour we were kept on our toes but at the end of it all, we looked up and around and saw that all the other stalls bar the Turkish had not made any sales.
At 8pm,the Moroccan Cafe owner came over and warned us to bring our own chairs and tables the next time we are back because our customers have been using his and he was not going to tolerate that next time.Shortly after, the market organizer came back and" congratulated" us on being busy.We told him  that we did not consider that mini rush that was over in just an hour as busy. Would we like to attend the next game on Wednesday and also, he was organizing a market on a square in  Harrow road?. Do we care to come?The boyfriend scowled and said "No Mate" We did not exactly conquer Fulham today did we?  

I PICK A BONE WITH THE BUTCHER

The phone rang startling me back to reality as I contemplated my predicament. I had just realized that the cheque I had written for the butcher earlier that  morning  may not be honoured. I had made an  unnecessary purchase for the business the day before.I had gone on a compulsive -plum tomato-buying- spree.I thought it was too good to be true- I,d seen 14 boxes of fresh plum tomatoes being offered at a farmers market for a third of what they,d normally cost and when I found it was no gimmick, I,d bought the whole lot   of them without thinking and now I have gone slightly over the allowed overdraft limit . That cheque  WILL not be paid.My heart sank at the prospect of that happening. Robert the butcher will kill me. Praise to where it is due,my bank has been magnanimous since the recession. They have accepted to honour cheques  when there have been insufficient funds in the account in so far as the agreed sum  will be debited into the account within 24 hours of the cheque clearing.But there was no such grand plan of that  happening tomorrow. I had no markets until friday . It was a wednesday. What,s a girl to do now? I worried.
"Kiru"? the voice at the other end inquired. "Yes" I answered.
"Robert,s been cheating you he,s been charging you an extra pound per kilo for the meat and chicken and sometimes we have delivered less meat and chicken than your order"
"For how long has this been going on and why now? why are you telling me this now"? I countered. recognizing the voice . It was Stuart, the youthful butcher,s assistant at my butcher,s. "You see I am leaving him soon so either way I have nothing to loose or gain but I  thought you should know"  My mouth turned dry with anger.Robert was not beyond reproach. On a few occasions  when we have disagreed and I  have gone to another butcher,I got a larger quantity than I would normally get from Robert for a similar order. But if I had an  unexpected order for catering, Robert trumps any other butcher I know in terms of stock availability and prompt delivery .I  also do not operate with a written list with my orders.It is  not done in  a methodical way . I keep it all in my head. . I have been known to wake him up in the middle of the night to amend my order!so that upsetting as this piece of information was, it could not have come at a better time for my predicament. I sighed with relief.The universe was looking out for me.  I was going to milk this piece of news for all it is worth in terms of buying me more time to do some more catering and put more funds in the account before that cheque is paid in.I thanked Stuart and hung up.
I dialled Robert,s number. "Hello Trouble" he said. Don,t tell me you want more meat" . He joked."No I don,t " I replied angry that he could cheat on my orders and still feel no qualms about cracking jokes with me." Robert" I called clearing my throat "you have been cheating on my orders" "Don,t talk rubbish" He said. Who told you that"?" I weighed the meat and I am  about 7 kilos short on what I ordered." "But you don,t have a weighing machine in your unit Kiru  so how can you come to that conclusion" He fired back at me."What makes you think I don,t have a weighing machine" I asked. "Cos I know every equipment in your unit" he then proceeded to mention them one after another ;"one heavy duty microwave, two Williams freezers, one chest Freezer ".." Stop" I reprimanded him getting really wound up now that he thinks I  have no proof  and not wanting to reveal who my informant was.This wasn,t going as smoothly as I thought it might. I must have the upper hand  I thought. I am the one who has been wronged. I am the customer and the customer is always right. I have to hit the nail on the head and tell him exactly how I want  this issue to be  resolved   though I am not sure that I can trust him again or  whether I will continue to buy from him. "Listen  Robert " I said,my voice an octave higher than normal .I think this has been going on for a long time and that now you,ve been found out I must be compensated.Let,s start with the cheque I gave you this morning. I have now cancelled it. You must go back and revise the bill and come back to me with an offer as to how I am to be compensated."don,t cancel the cheque I will give you credit of some sort for your  order next week" I told him there was not going to be any  further order  and that I cannot  trust him anymore. He then  seemed subdued and said he wanted to come and see me in my unit.
Two hours later, he arrived at the unit bearing two square shaped cardboard boxes containing  raw meat."There" he said as he dropped them on my work top. I am sorry if you think I have cheated you . "You can come and talk to Stuart and the other guys and they,ll confirm that nothing like that is going on"...... Seems like I have to oust Stuart to get a confession from Robert but in the meantime I have a few days grace to worry about a probably reduced figure cheque!

BRING BACK THE OLYMPICS AND MY POLISH BULWARK

I remember with nostalgia ,the London Olympics. It held so much promise to many a street trader. Some traders paid a handsome amount of money for  trade that never materialized whilst some paid very little and got very lucky indeed with unplanned windfall of trade.And others like myself who could have been luckier,blew a chance of a lifetime because of lack of planning . .What will be nice though, is a return once more to the beginning of last year.There are a few things I would do differently and following which I am sure,I will not be moaning about Street trade today.
First,I hunger for and seek the return of  my best staff in the whole wide world by the name of Yakub who returned to Poland two years ago and whom I think never came back to London. Spiros , a Greek guy who spoke absolutely no English but who was a fantastic worker  had just gone back to Greece.I needed another Spiros or better.  The Job was labour intensive and I needed someone who was Strong and who could pretend it was a gym session! After so many rejections , I took to humming the hymn "Jerusalem" hoping for divine intervention in finding a suitable staff. Then came Yakub.Yakub was a strapping 7 foot of lean power house. A can do giant of a man who performed every task efficiently and with the speed of lightening.    He also had the best work ethic. It was in 2005 and I was a trader in Camden market. Himself and another guy were introduced to me at the same time in response to my ad for a replacement for Spiros.  I gave both men chores to do whilst I disappeared from view.With a cigarette dangling from his lips, I watched in pleasant disbelief as his massive hands speedily  lifted and cleaned and loaded. I offered him the job  on the spot and as a business , I can comfortably say that  he was one of the smartest decisions, I  had ever made. Such was his competence that during the events of July 7th when transportation and movement was curtailed,he ingeniously found his way to work, and cooked every dish on our menu.He had never cooked them before and had only watched me prepare them! From then on, there was nothing I could not delegate to him. My Japanese neighbour ,enviuos of my find,  resorted to currying favour with  him with breakfast every Saturday morning. He would drag her boxes and mine from the storage rooms with so much ease you,d be forgiven to think they were featherweight . In fact they weighed tonnes. He repaired electrical malfunctions,tiled the kitchen,fixed plumbing leaks,drove the van ,fixed jubilee clips to gas bottles,smiled,told me off if I was late to arrive at the market  and was good with customers. With him I feared no catering challenges and most importantly, I never did any washing up- which I detest..Since he left, there has been no staff like him and my lateness at events has become even more pronounced.  Lately, "Jerusalem" has been playing in my head.Something tells me Yakub will return to London soon. God knows I need his help badly.

 Power of positive thinking says Yakub is on his way, so  I will be able to deliver a stellar performance at any accruing festival  from the Olympics.  I therefore make bold to write the wonderful Julia whom I so let down by my lateness at her premier event last year but who was gracious to the end;
Dear Julia, thanks once again for giving me this second opportunity. I am sorry that my team was 4 hours late at last year,s event and I do apologise for the shock you must have experienced as I barked at you to hang up on the phone as my thinking was fuddled by the pain of child labour. Yes! that was not a story I made up.My beautiful daughter chose the day of your event to pop out. I did not tell you I was heavily pregnant when you  first made contact because we desperately needed the money as I had lost nearly all my markets.I knew from the way that child kicked and somersaulted in my stomach that she was going to pull a fast one!. I cajoled and sang to her and even began to gulp copious amount of tamarind juice 2 weeks before to effect a quicker arrival but she chose not to come out!. So again I was having her when you rang!I promise you that there will be no such drama this year.Believe me when I say that my stall will be the very first to set up. Permit me to introduce you to my secret weapon this time-Yakub. Kind Regards.
 Kiru.

THE RISE OF THE 15% BRIGADE

I abandoned plans to trade at a night market in a  Shoreditch car Park last Saturday because I am quietly protesting the advent of what I find is an erosion of complete autonomy from street food traders by the new generation of market organizers. I find this phase of my Street trading life rather educational because when I had the misplaced security of the two major markets I  traded at, I thought that  their management styles were oppressive but in terms of greed , this new breed wins the trio of gold, silver and bronze. half of the time, they do not have a clue what they are doing. They have chanced upon street trade organizing from various backgrounds and  have decided for themselves that  the quickest route to make money is through a percentage cut of their stallholders takings.By my calculations, If I had done that market, on the rainy night that it was, after paying the 15% charge I would have been lucky to break even.But what is the point protesting if this new levy is not being challenged by anyone else? You get marked as a trouble maker whilst the  passive lot get all the juicy markets or gigs or festivals and you don,t even get a look in.
This leads me to the main problem with street trading. It is a frighteningly unregulated battlefield unless it is run by a local authority.Council run markets are generally not run on prime sites and there is not normally a will to properly advertise them  enough to draw in buying crowds.The Local authorities health and Safety team will always look after the food you sell to the public but no one looks after you as a trader! What we need is an association with teeth that can bite! Perhaps I will start one. On second thought, I now have become paperwork lazy.  I nearly used the word phobia. That is what doing too much cooking does to you. It has become even more  necessary to regulate the treatment of street food traders by market organizers especially  since the recession. On almost every street corner in London, you will  find anyone, sometimes with just a tiny stove with an open fire and a frying pan selling "street food", What isdisturbing is that more often than not , they have been tutored in  "Street food trading " by this new generation market organizers who also masquerade as street trading consultants. How do you consult not from years of experience selling food to the public but from method statements from the traders on your list.! Make no mistake, these new breed are  usually very internet savvy and can twitter and facebook and do the rest of them,they can of course garner an eating and drinking crowd. Youngish-Eating-Drinking types in Street food land =A sell out food stall. So you see , if you can get the crowd to follow you, any street trader and aspiring ones will sell their last paella to follow you and your tutorship even if you are  teaching half -cooked rubbish!   Most Traders are averse to too much paper work. The reason for this is two fold. 1.If they have come into street trading from office work, they want to keep well away from any kind of paper work.2. English is not the first Language of most street food hawkers therefore, doing paperwork is to them like pulling teeth. So, how can these new generation market organisers tutor in Street trading? They can because  the experienced traders are not doing it and there is no credible association. At an Olympic fest last year ,one of these new breed organizers offered to help us manage our queue by collecting the money for us.The boyfriend  thanked her no. That promptly put an end to further trading opportunities with her.
Why should any trader  have to pay for a space twice? Why should any trader have to pay  a fee to rent a space from an organizer and also reveal the details of her takings to the same organizer by giving him/her 15% of her takings? The operative word here  is takings. The trader will have spent good money on the ingredients and all the other overheads  Nowadays you,d be lucky to make up to 40% in profit after expenses and overhead. Where is the autonomy in  running your own business when you have to declare your earning to a market organizer? Did I tell you dear Blog  that I have run markets in the past? Well, if my toddlers allowed me enough sleep I might just go back to it in a jiffy. I would run a pure and fair market and an association  and a tutorial for the newly initiated traders....ouch!  my head hurts already!

SAVE OUR GAZEBOS

If you are an adventurous foodie and love street food, and have tried new cuisines in London,s vibrant markets, You must have by now become aware of a   new phenomenon . The ghastly vehicle conversions called food trucks.They are conversions of mostly old van type vehicles like ambulances, post office vans , any van and sometimes incredibly new makes of vans. These trendied up yuppy type vans will I suppose make your local authority,s health and safety crew  rate your work environment five star . Because you will be cooking and cleaning in a compact environment  with your hand wash sink, easy to clean walls, hot water dispenser, fridge et al.But from an experienced trader point of view,they are responsible for what I call a lack of seniority .Where the Biblical  first has now become the last that  is now blighting the street food trade in London. Let me explain.In the beginning, there were original markets of note, for example Camden ,Borough and so forth.The corporate organizers of these markets built stalls for you. All you needed to do was turn up with your food . Ready prepared or not. When those markets over expanded at the expense of the original traders, the  gazebo style markets emerged whereby individual market  organizers either bought or rented or required traders to bring along their  own gazebos. This method of street trading is slowly becoming anachronistic as mega pop up food markets takeover. London has seen loads of Pop up music events this summer where the organizers and promoters have declared that "LONDON,S BEST STREET FOODS WILL BE ON OFFER"! and yet on application you find that their preferred stalls are truck types. I wager that the best street food you will have tasted or will ever taste will come from either an old style market stall or a gazebo run stall . This is because majority of these stallholders have more delicious original and indigenous recipes they want to share with  adventurous food lovers rather than money to convert a van. That said,  I must admit that I have seen one or two conversions that I have liked but those were the exceptions .I lie. There are some pretty conversions out there. You only have to check out street food traders organization websites to find them but the point is that  we, the gazebo carrying traders need time and equal invitations to compete with the trucks! Gazebo stalls offer real and authentic variety. Glorified jiffy vans offer a zillion other ways to cook a burger.!

IN SEARCH OF THE NEXT BEST FOOD MARKET

Around midday last Sunday,I got a call from the boyfriend . He was running our stall at Chartsworth Road.He sounded exuberant. Whats up? I asked "I may have found us a prime site market  we can  start on Friday and may now not have to come back here",he continued. Easy tiger I said. Prime site and sharp-ish start equal only one thing in street trader land- new and inexperienced market organizer and literally trailer load of us desperate street food traders anxious to be part of the line up. We arranged to meet up with the organizer the next day. I should have known  when as we took a sudden turn on Fulham high road to the right to access the location of this new market a Chelsea tractor bumped our car that this market was a non starter. As we discussed with him,, I saw what other traders must have surely seen in me  as  I tried to organize my own markets  last year, Fear,,trepidation,zeal,nervous energy and  a lot of fast talking and a lot less eye contact. The Site was prime alright as it was near the grounds of Chelsea football club and today the square did look busy-ish. On march days, he told us, we stand to make a killing. Priority to trade on those days will be given to his traders. Become one of his traders we must . And as it turned out, we were not the only ones wanting to identify with him  as he received phone call after phone call of enquiries from traders asking for directions to the site. As we tried to work out where best to place our gazebo on the Friday,we glanced across at North end road market.It seemed fairly busy. Perhaps some regulars to that market might be tempted to visit this new market. Office workers keen to try new food might also come.We hoped and decided to give it a shot.
Come Friday, I cooked and cleaned and the boyfriend went to sell. We prepared for very minimal sales but our prediction was even ambitious for this place. First It confirmed what we knew was going to be a problem from the outset.10 food stalls was way too much  for any new site that has not been heavily advertised.When I hour into lunchtime I rang , the boyfriend used a favourite analogy of his which denotes lack of foot flow or activity. He said all the traders were sat there looking at each other. I laughed nervously. I detected frustration in his voice too . We both knew without speaking it that we will not be going back the next day. You get a feel for a market with potential and I did not feel it with this one.The restaurant will definitely complain when our punters start using their chairs and they also begin to loose trade to the street traders.But how to leave this market without loosing the opportunity to trade during match days or paying heavily for it?
So another market bites the dust for us. In the meantime I  have written the butcher and my grocery suppliers cheques that are due to be cashed on Monday. This is where a miracle would be nice.

KIRU

MY LATENESS GETS ME A WRITTEN WARNING FROM THE COUNCIL

On Friday, I got a written warning from the Council market manager at Hoxton. I was not surprised. It had been a long time coming. I am a habitual late comer. In fact from the inception of this new market in May,I have arrived late. No not myself physically, I mean my stall as represented by my boyfriend who has kindly run it on my behalf.
I shall tell you a little bit about my boyfriend. He is one of those people who has an unsmiling face. That is sometimes called a stony demeanour, or a Military looking face or a very serious face- you get the gist.I suppose you could call him a miserable angel.Whereas if I arrived late at a market I will quickly flash my 1 million watts smile at the ego tripping manager and apologise plus find a suitably fitting tale to tell( My all time favourite excuse  is   the chock-a-block that is the A40). The boyfriend will be confrontational.He was unacceptably late last Sunday bless him because he had to drop me and my wares off at the disastrous Upmarket  (see my first post) I insisted we both did Upmarket but he very knowledgeably declined and muttered something about  not putting all our eggs in one basket. I knew that business wise that was a sound decision on his part but for once I also felt that even a major incidence on the A40 could not explain this mother of all lateness to the long suffering manager at this market!.He was told we would get a written warning .It is customary for him to reply with a scowl  and a very economic "sorry we are late". So we waited for the letter. And  it came. Henceforth ,the letter commanded ,we must arrive promptly at the stated set up times or be dismissed from the market.
The boyfriend would love not to go back. But it will take more than a few thinly veiled  threats to get me to stop trading at a low rent  promising local authority run market . So it happened yesterday morning,that  I  surpassed my own expectation when I woke up before the alarm did and prepared all food and got him to leave for the market in ample time to be one of the first to arrive. Okay he was not one of the first to arrive but he arrived early enough  and was able to set  up well in advance of the allowed time !

Upmarket

On Sunday, in the sweltering humid heat of upmarket Bricklane Market London, I decided  that my love affair with street trading will certainly soon come to an end.Do not get me wrong ,Street trading has paid the bills, enabled me to meet many interesting people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe for the past 12 years but right now as a virgin trader at Sunday upmarket, all I can think of is "How have I ended up here"? The food hall at this market is a medley and fusions of  cuisines and of most cultures and peoples of the world so I should feel at home .This is my natural habitat but alas!I did not belong. I am still trying to put my finger on what prompted this change of heart . Top on the list could be the fact that as a former queen bee of Camden and Greenwich markets , I felt humiliated at starting out in another established market where some of the very busy and established stallholders had worked for me or asked me for a job in the past.! On Sunday, I  felt like asking them for a job! It was envious really. The other reason could be the fact that so many young girls were prancing about nearly naked in hot pants that left the cheeks of their buttocks  straining out. Now, I may be in my early forties but believe me,I am very young at heart - my own 22 year old and her friends will attest to this I swear. And unlike the previous point, I am definitely not envious of their cellulite free and firmer thighs! Its just that there is just so much nether flesh on show and ogling Men  not able to concentrate on the menu to order food and make me some sales! I felt like screaming "Does your mother know"? at these girls.
 The last straw happened when at the end of business , one of the established traders  pre-empted that I must not have made any profits because the meat and chicken chunks in my dishes were cut  too big for me to have made any money. In other words, What ever portions I had managed to sell should have been enough to triple my sales. I mumbled thanks without really meaning it. Rule no 1 of market rivalry which all street food traders harbour; give unsolicited patronizing advice to your next big  competition when they are at the bottom for when they are up there with the biggest queue of customers and you go to complain to the market organizers that they are taking all your trade, you can then mention that it is not borne out of jealousy because you had previously advised them on how to increase their trade!
I was out of practise without  knowing it.I had taken two years out to start a family and so have lost my other markets(of which more in later postings.). I had no coriander or chopped fresh tomatoes to continuously garnish my  curries. Eventually most curries sold in any given market resemble the same except the very distinct and I do try to avoid this but had to give in today when I  saw that the two stalls flanking mine looked similar but were distinct menu wise and the green leaves of coriander dancing atop of their stews  gave them a fresh allure. I quickly borrowed a bunch of coriander , chopped it up and garnished and garnished.
Let,s be honest, I would not normally under any circumstance, want to trade at upmarket. It has far too much food on offer.Exactly the reason I left Camden(of which more later postings.) but there is a recession going on and I  have two toddlers to feed! So it was that I left Upmarket on Sunday with the proverbial wiping of the feet knowing come Tuesday when I receive the customary email "upmarket confirmation needed", that I shall not be returning!