Camberwell Market was fairly uninspiring this morning. Maybe the threat of rain kept all the interesting stall-holders at home (people with interesting things to sell are renowned for disliking inclement weather), or maybe it was my mood. Sometimes I enjoy sifting through table after table of yellowing paperbacks and assorted bits and bobs; today, I felt like buying a pair of fourth-hand flippers ("Only $5!") and gouging somebody's eye out with them. Next Sunday I'm staying in bed. Except I have to work, so I guess I won't.
It was almost worth going, however, to see this:
It is, or anyway was, some kind of bird that has been stuffed - in more than one sense of the word - and mounted - also possibly in more than one sense of the word. Somebody was actually attempting to sell this hideous ex-bird, although there didn't seem to be a price tag attached. Maybe it fell off along with most of the feathers.
Still, there's nothing like a grotesque objet de taxidermy to pull the well-heeled punters at Camby Market. I estimate that while I snapped away with my spiffy new phone-camera-doomsday device, no less than a dozen passers-by pointed, shrieked, laughed, or fainted at the sight of my patchy friend. Unfortunately for the stall-holder, not a single person was game enough to actually get close enough to the bird to examine any of the other stock on offer. I wonder why.