Back in the 1980s when I was working the door of Cafe De Paris, after closing my friend David Tidball and I walked south across London to the Smithfield Market. The ancient slaughterhouse was alive with butchers chopping meat and the only pubs open after closing time were those across the street. Beer, blood, and bacon sandwiches.
The London Corporation has announced that the Meat Market will close after over 900 years of existence in 2028. Plans include yet more useless retail spaces or luxury condos.
According to The Times a market has operated on or near the Smithfield site since the tenth century. In 1174 it was described by William Fitzstephen, clerk to Thomas Becket, as “a smooth field where every Friday there is a celebrated rendezvous of fine horses to be sold, and in another quarter are placed vendibles of the peasant, swine with their deep flanks, and cows and oxen of immense bulk”. The corporation was given the right to run it and other wholesale food markets in 1327 by Edward III.
Two years ago during my liver transplant operation on Yulemas, I dreamed on laying on a butcher’s block in the Smithfield Market, white-aproned butchers hacking at my body. My guts strewn everywhere. No pain. At the end of the ten-hour operation I regained consciousness and looked about expecting to see mayhew. No blood. No guts. No Smithfield Market. No beer in the pubs. Just a wicked scar.
Oh, for the last century.
