The City Centre, Cork
We get our fish from the English Market in the city centre. The fishmongers have a photo of when the queen came visiting. The man always has a wide smile and a chat with our kid. We have spent many Saturdays staring at the weird dragon like fish and smoked kippers.
The English Market is also a place to get olives, fresh bread, and occasional cake. We fill up our bags with vegetables from a shop at the entrance run by Asian ladies. At Christmas time there is a spiced mulled tea at one of the shops. But our lunch is usually kebabs at the Istanbul just outside the Market.
It is crazy, making way through it all with a stroller in tow. But I love the city centre rather than the estates and malls. And I am not really a country girl. It is lovely to be in the crowds, looking in for second hand books, musicians on the street, slice of pizza or tea in hand.
The rush is a delightful welcome from the precision of suburban life, the politeness needed by well manicured lawns. I do not fit in the domesticity, neither do I have the guts to live too close to nature. I probably have grown up in far too many small towns and villages to prefer the anonymity of cities. There is also the access, city centres can be accessed by buses and trains, and we can simply walk around once there.
Ah, also it is nice to live in a place where the green fields or the sea are only half an hour away from the crowds.