Tea and sympathy

Morning run and afternoon walk today, with errands: market for salad greens and tea, library to pick up holds. 

I've been impressed with The Teahaus, the place where we get our loose tea in the market. The staff are unfailingly friendly and personable and the products are good, but it's more than that. 

Small businesses have been hit hard by the pandemic. Many have already gone under, more are sure to follow. But some, like Teahaus, have managed to stay afloat - even if they aren't exactly thriving - by adapting quickly on the fly.

When the market opened after the first lockdown in March 2020, the Teahaus made the decision  to remain closed for a time to protect staff. I was impressed with that too. It was still doing business, though.

The shop, which recently celebrated its 20th anniversary, had already invested heavily (judging by appearances) in an attractive website with an online shopping portal. And it was already offering mail delivery for out-of-town customers. 

When the lockdowns started, it added local delivery, free for purchases over $20. It didn't just hand off to a courier or Canada Post. Store staff bring the teas, and the shop offers - at one point, were insisting upon - contactless delivery. 

I took advantage of the service a couple of times last year. The guy would come to our front door, call us, bring the package in to the vestibule and set it on the floor, then go back out to his car and watch until we came down and collected it and waved him on. That's pretty good service.

Now they have what amounts to indoor curb-side pickup. They've closed the doors on the tiny shop, but converted one into an order and pick-up window, with barriers between staff and customers. You can come and place an order and they'll fill it on the spot and pass it through to you, or you can order by phone, email or online and pick it up.

The Teahaus has certainly lost business. As well as selling loose tea in bulk, they also operated a café serving tea and pastries.  That obviously is closed. 

But my guess is they're going to be okay. Most times I've gone to pick up orders, there have been other customers just coming, just leaving or at the window. Tea drinkers are fussy about what they drink. Most of us, I'm guessing, are perfectly willing to put up with a little inconvenience if it means we can still get our favourite brews.

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I walked from the library, my next errand, down Clarence and through to York along an alley. 

I had been bemoaning to myself the lame wall art that has sprung up on the plywood covers on windows in some shuttered buildings downtown. They look like mediocre illustrations in a children's book. I get that the bright colours are meant to cheer us up, but there are so many much more talented artists in the city, why is this guy - I won't mention his name - suddenly appearing everywhere?

In any case, this alleyway/parking lot off Clarence between King and York was an antidote: more than a little bit grotty, nice vivid colours, chaotic over painting, tagging mixed with wall art - not very good wall art, granted, but better than the stuff in the windows of former banks and pharmacies in the centre.

Walking on, I noticed, not for the first time, an interesting covered laneway off York St., leading to a parking lot behind the buildings. This time I stopped and took a picture.

And then as I started down the railway underpass on Richmond - I was headed for the river path where it crosses Richmond just past Labatt's - I noticed a whole series of murals on the walls of the underpass that I'd never seen before. I was on the opposite side of the street and could only see this first one. I'll go back another time and explore. They look interesting. 

So, my faith in London wall art restored.

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Most of the rest of the walk was devoted to collecting more for my series on London bridges.

Ridout St. bridge from the river path

Under the Ridout St. bridge - South Branch in background

Under the Horton St. bridge

The caption on the middle picture raises an interesting question: why do we in London refer to the South Branch of the River Thames, when the branch in question goes predominantly east. What we call the North Branch certainly goes north. I'm not sure what we call the branch that heads west out to Byron. Is it the West Branch?

See what I'm talking about?

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When I got on the home stretch of my walk, I was struck by the evolving skyline of this city. London is growing up, in both senses.

The grey building in the centre is ours - about to be dwarfed and surrounded. The crane is for the work site across the street from us where they're working on the first of three buildings going into the block of Talbot between Fullarton and Dufferin.

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Every picture  Our grandson loves a beach. Once you get him there, it's hard to get him to leave.

On a day like this, cool and threatening rain, it's not a lot of fun for the adults - unless they have a camera. So this scene, enacted in September of last year in South Shields, near Newcastle, is what you get. The two women, obviously cold and bored, are in attendance on the young Lord Louis who is doing...who knows? He's very focused, though, and very intent on his digging. And the grandfather? He's off up the beach somewhere taking pictures of clouds. 

Eventually, we got him to come away, with the promise of another beach just up the road.