I worked temp jobs in the media, made friends I still consider important, suffered through some whomping big mistakes (’80’s haircuts, anyone??), and frequented a shop with mile-high cheddar/lettuce/tomato-on-croissant sandwiches that still tower in my memory. These were my salad days. My once-flatmate, Caroline, will meet me for a prowl of the old neighborhood in early July – we will listen for the voices of our former selves; look for our shadows in the shadows. Something will surprise me – be it a familiar flower vine or the way I still know the way to the high street tube stop or a shop that has popped up or lingered or gone away. I wonder how I ever got to that piece of the world, then how I got so far away from it. But all this nostalgia works up an appetite, so on to more salads for me. The nearby Borough Market is 1000 years old. 1000 years old! I marvel at this, having long been on the states side where the only thing that old is a sequoia tree. What’s old can be new – I’ll visit this market for the first time ever. Report to follow.