Carnival Tales 2.

The first sign that we were not going to have another run of good luck at this year,s carnival happened when a month before the carnival ,I began to ring Anne,s number.Anne is the name we will call the lady,from whose front porch we sold food at last year,s carnival .The phone rang on each occasion but was not answered. I am a natural worrier so I began to panic.My Butcher likes to know in advance if there will be a dramatic increase in the quantity of meat and poultry that I order because he has to debone the goat and broiler Chicken which is no mean feat.When I told the boyfriend ,his answer as always and with everything is to pre-determine a fight with Anne."Oh no she better not Chicken out " He said venom in his voice. "She did promise that we could use her porch again this year" he continued not listening to himself speak."She did not promise not to give the space to a higher bidder this year and what we had was not exactly a cast iron legal /binding agreement" I reminded him."Seriously she had better not mess us up" he continued dimly.The boyfriend has the most one track mind of anyone I know and in the world according to him,no one should ever ever break a promise made to him no matter how flimsy "I think there is only one way to find out if we have got the space this year .Lets, go visit the woman ." I suggested.
"Thank God you are still in the country " I said as she let us into her home."You are not returning our calls,have we still got a deal?"  "You bet you have" She replied.And so off we went to begin preparations in earnest.
Last year,we paid at the end of trading each day so we assumed the same arrangement this time but got a rude awakening the day before the carnival when I saw 6 missed calls from Anne in under 20 minutes. Thinking she,s had a change of heart and getting a sense of déjà vu , I steadied my nerves as I put a call through to her."You lot need to pay me for the two days trade tomorrow morning or the deal is off". My heart sank.My normal reaction would have been to tell her where to go and insist on only making payments after each day's trading but I know when I,ve been had. I am my father,s daughter .Bless his soul.He always said tread cautiously when you hold neither the knife nor the Yam .Anne held both the knife and yam. Only a fool would begin to argue with her now.! Like good school children,we presented her with the money the next morning and went about trying to sell to revellers who were already forming a queue.And it was indeed a very busy day for us.Back at the unit,An aunt of mine and Waheeda (see previous blogs)did a good job of doing all the preps  for me .Jollof rice sauce was ready and all the poultry and meat seasoned.My Aunt even surpassed herself by peeling 80 kg of Maris piper potatoes.The unit was clean too.Exactly how I like my kitchen when I have loads of cooking to do.
Fast forward Bank holiday morning and despite, willing the weather prediction to improve, it didn,t  I had gone ahead and prepared more food.The boyfriend and my nephew held the fort at the stall whilst I took more freshly cooked food along at 2pm.
To say that business was bad will be a massive understatement .Let me give you an idea of how very bad things were.The street where we were was alive and buzzing the day before with revellers spilling out of a trendy pub next door to us and though  the DJ played from inside the pub ,you could feel the vibe streets away and it was good music too. A mix of Reggae,Soul,Calypso,House and the like.Today there was no live DJ and as I approached the pub , a stall holder held out 2 pieces of Corn on the Cob and shouted."just a pound now for them 2" Oh dear I thought .Business must be really awful today if I am being offered corn that would normally sell for £2 a cob that cheap.I did not have to wonder for too long for as I raised my eyes towards our stall my boyfriend,s demeanour told me everything I needed to know.Two youths were haggling with him over the price of 2 pieces of Buffallo wings." You lot are expensive bruv . You get me .Like this should cost no more than 50p a piece .I mean it's raining bruv . You get me .You should be thanking me for standing here in the rain and trying to buy some food off you."  The boyfriend just glared at him whilst my nephew fiddled with his apron.It was not an encouraging sight. Mountains of food that revellers couldn't get enough of the day before stood before me liability written in stark letters all over it.Whats a girl to do now.I had only broken even. It hurt to think that we would be chucking all that rice 8 coolers of  hours of sleep deprived slaving  in the bin.Moreso,my own family back in Africa may not have had much to eat for dinner that night and here I am wasting food.I took the youths grand gesture £2.68 in all and gave them two full plates of food. Before long ,I had about 15 of them offering me various denominations of money for a full plate of food that we retailed for an average of £10 the previous day.When they were done and the rain cleared .We began to gather our equipments -gas burners,  gazebos , paper plates,gigantic paella pans ,Bain Marie and of course tons of food .As we drove home, we could see in crevice like corridors ,sprouting stalls doing brilliant business  that late in the night whilst I carried my trade home. My heart felt a pang of envy and my heart also knew that it's brief love affair with the Notting Hill Carnival has come to an expensive abrupt end.

CARNIVAL TALES 1

"Dance with me come on" My boyfriend implored for the second time last Monday night,and though I felt more like Screaming out loud  at the soul - dampening London weather,than dancing,I, lifted my very very tired body off the chair and clung unto him as he swayed and rocked my bulk to and fro out of sync with the music soothingly playing on the radio.A great dancer he is not. It had rained from the moment I yawned "good morning " to him at 4am that morning to the time he requested the dance at about 11pm that night.We had a miserable rain sodden ,wet day at the carnival unlike the day before..Furthermore,we hardly had any space in which to tango.We had piles of containers of curry goat,jollof rice,buffalo wings,buns and crates of canned drinks surrounding us .All through the days before the carnival, I had scoured weather forecast  centres looking for a positive prediction for the bank holiday Monday but didn't find any.It was going to rain cats and dogs yet somehow I,d swam against the tide and gone ahead and hired the same number of staff,Prepared the same quantity of food and bought even more drinks.I had figured that so long as there was a sound system positioned near our set up, we would mint it.Oh how are the desperate disappointed!There were warning signs that could have served to warn me of the impending catastrophe that was this year,s Nottinghill Carnival but as always when I am desperate , I choose not to follow my instincts.
I have been a food street trader for more than 12 years and have catered at festivals but have never found it appealing to cater at the carnival .That position would still have sufficed but for the fact that  I started a new family in the past 3 years brooding 2 babies .Something had to give as I began to find it increasingly difficulit to leave my babies at the strike of dawn to go hustle in the markets.Also I lost my premium spot at Greenwich market during that site,s management,s pretend restructuring(more of which in future blogs)The further loss of even more premium spots at lucrative lunch time market spots like Canary wharf and St Katherine,s dock (as my boyfriend ,s constant squabbles with the wife  of the organizer the genteel Mr Shephered got us kicked out) Actually,it wasn't,entirely the boyfriends fault that we got kicked out. It didn't help matters that I also began to organise my own markets and tried poaching traders from Shephereds markets. I hadn't reckoned on the sheepish sense of loyalty some of the traders I approached owed to them. Anyhow,it became necessary for me to take on high risk but higher returns venture like the carnival.So,when last year I was approached by a friend of a friend to pay £1,000 to share a spot from which to sell hot food at the carnival,I got interested.I went with the boyfriend to peruse the site. He grew up in Lad broke grove so knew where the usual trouble spots were and as it so happened,the spot I was being offered was a well known trouble spot so we turned it down. The boyfriend then became obsessed with finding us a suitable site .It was partly his fault that my earning power has seriously diminished. He fought with Mrs Shephereds after all and we have very hungry mouths to feed and expensive baby paraphernalia to buy.He found one 3 days to the carnival.A private arrangement.We are to set up stall in front of this old eccentric,s house and pay him a commission of 5% on all our takings. I didn't like the sound of that and told him so when I met him. I,d rather he named a price to be paid before we started so that we can have autonomy over our takings and not have to declare our takings to someone we hardly knew.He refused to budge  so we caved in.Come carnival morning , the boyfriend arrived at his building to set up and alas! there was another stall already set up on the same spot.He told the boyfriend that he had double booked. He was sorry! When the boyfriend rang to tell me I screamed at him to better make sure he found another spot or else he had better prepare both  to feast on the tonnes of food myself and two staff were busy preparing and to pay the invoices as well. A while later he rang to I say that the Man,s neighbour had agreed for us to use her front porch.Incidentally,that  spot was flanked on either side by two well known disc jockeys. On the one side was the legendary Norman J and on the other side,Pasha Sanchez.Suffice it to say that it was one of the most successful gamble we ever took as we had a snaking queue from the moment we were set up untill closing time. I was very happy indeed and curried favour with the woman who was also very happy to have earned a handsome fee and good food for her and 10 family members for the two day period.We arranged to use  the same spot again in 2014.

WHAT YOU,VE MISSED SO FAR.

I apologise for being incommunicado since the year.I tell you It has been a fiery roller coaster of a year so far.Pretty unprecedented.First  the rainy season  deluge we  had at the beginning of the year,took its toll on my two toddlers .The 3 year old would go to Nursery where he will of course play with the other kids in the garden in the cold without his coat, (I think it is silly to allow kids to play outside when it is raining even the slightest drizzle but don't tell the policy makers of pre-school children,s education I said that)He would come back home with a sniffle .My two year old would promptly catch it ,and from then on it would be a race as to whose develops into an almighty viral infection .Like most parents, though I am aware that the GP would re-prescribe Calpol, and advise against the futility of administering antibiotics,I want my kids to at least get a decent night rest without bouts of excruciating coughs .I sometimes insisted on antibiotics being prescribed and that of course meant they got a bit better briefly only to fall ill again within a few days.So it happened that for the first quarter of this year, I visited the children,s urgent care centre more often than not  most nights.And being one of those unfortunate people who must get at least 8 hours sleep before they can function , I just couldn't function and didn't know whether I was coming or going most days.The lovely Sue, the nurse at our Surgery took pity on me after I had dragged the kids to her room for the 3rd time in one week and said"flu jab next year unfailingly and for God,s sake get some Haliborange  for the 3 year old" This piece of information became an epiphany for me because prior to becoming aware of it I had been so blinded by my determination not to introduce my kids to sweets that I did not realise how beneficial this particular Softies were. I went through the mineral and vitamin composition of  the brand I was giving the kids hitherto to now and found that though it may be adequate for my 2 year old who eats any and everything you put on her plate ,and therefore,gets enough nutrients from her meals to boost her immune system ,my fussy mummy -give-me-more-milk 3year old boy required a more tailored help to boost his immune system as he did not eat much. For the record, I do not work for the makers of Haliborange but I must say that it worked for my boy.But catching up on work in order to pay outstanding bills  then took precedence as the kids and of course the weather returned to normality.
So ,I got my first invitation to apply for an opportunity to cater at the annual Boat race. But the organizer is asking for a whooping £750 .I visit their website hoping to glimpse happy smiley faces of afore years caterers doing brisk business but find none.Still scared from catering at "festivals"which turned out to be nothing but lunch time market last year, I was determined  to proceed cautiously or wise still not commit at all if I had the tiniest doubt about its viability.I ask if I was going to be the only food trader at this event selling my genre of food but what I got was an unconvincing reply plus that usual phrase that induces reckless investment on new street traders ;"we are expecting 20 thousand visitors"but a new street trader I wasn't .In fact if there was ever an award for the grand dame of street trading I should win the award hands down .I decided it was too risky and declined the offer. Lambeth country show,s email soon  followed .I rang up  the council to find out the criteria to applying successfully as my bid was turned down last year and it is quite a form one has to fill out."Your bid is unlikely to be accepted if you do not live in the borough"a voice told me. You don't say!but my address clearly showed that I live nowhere near Lambeth. I said they could have saved me a lot of bother on last year,s application."Please send me no more  soliciting emails about applying because I won't be making a bid ever again "Another one bites the dust. I thought.
 And then there is Waheeda(from my December blog).She has lost all her hair and despite having had a fitted wig made for her, refuses to wear it.How are things with her  boyfriend? I ask aware that she avoids discussing him each time I bring the subject up.She hasn,t seen him since the diagnosis."Why ever not?" I scolded her knowing from her tone that she instigated the separation . "I  ain't seeing no man without my boobs" she replied matter of factly. "When I am done with my chemo and other treatments and have had my breast reconstructed, I will perhaps then think about seeing any man but for now I am perfectly fine  on my own thank you very much" I just sat there looking at this enigma of a woman to whom so far ,Fate has dealt a more than average hard and cruel life and through it all she still keeps her smile .She went back to work  just weeks after surgery to have her breasts removed.I have often wondered since her diagnosis ,how I would have reacted were it myself that was given that diagnosis a year after loosing my mum and a brother in law.And methinks  it would have been a constant barrage of assaults on God,s ears and a non stop whinnying of why me again to any and everyone who will care enough to listen.

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?