Continental market

Here's friend R purchasing some Italian confectionery from the continental street market lining the streets in the centre of Liverpool just now. We both had little errands to do in town so got the train in, forgetting it's half-term. By the time we were on the train and giving our strongest Disapproving Looks (hers is an ex-teacher's one so particularly malevolent) to a hyper kid doing acrobatics from atop a luggage rack, it was too late. The city centre was awash with kids, harrassed parents and pensioners in wheelchairs, and I was jostled time and again despite trying to trip the perpetrators with my alpine walking stick (with compass and optional monopod screw-head). We got what we had gone for, then looked for somewhere for an energising cuppa; every coffee shop/restaurant/bistro had queues out of the doors. Finally we found a place up a steep flight of steps with a certain quirky rococco charm, with a view of the manic street below. The steps had rendered it pushchair and crip unfriendly, so it wasn't too packed, and luckily this determined crip managed the stairs; this would not have been possible a month or so ago. Aren't I doing well?

Africa was dark orange today.