BILLINGSGATE.

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume XXXV, Issue 4765, 17 October 1924, Page 3

BILLINGSGATE.

LONDON’S OLDEST MARKET. A DAY AMONG THE CROWD. Every morning at five o’clock sharp the ringing of a bell awakens the oldest market in London, where for over a thousand years buying and selling have taken place. Since three o’clock railway goods vans have been gathering outside Billingsgate Market, till by the time five, o’clock comes there is scarcely a part of the road which is not occupied. They have brought fish and will wait to take fish away. Unlicensed porters, with their stuffed caps and flattened bowlers, hang about by the dozen. They are not allowed inside the market—the market having its own porters —but wait outside for odd jobs.

A steady stream of men begins to surge into the market. Among the first-comers are the Jews. They buy only the best fish, and do not mind paying for it. Soon the building fills rapidly and before long every inch of floor is doing service, and still there are more buyers to come. The small dealer with his fish-bag rubs shoulders with well-to-do shopkeepers and buyers for hotels, restaurants, and other large concerns. Porters, balancing piles of boxes b.i their quaint leathern hats, dart by you every second.

' Here and there a nun moves serenely among the throng, and you notice that a path always opens up before her. They are never refused fish, for the Billingsgate fishmonger is ever generous; you will go a long way to find a more goodhearted fellow.

The piled up stands of fish glisten silvery in the glare of, the arc lamps. There are hake, cod, skate, haddocks, soles, herrings, to say nothing of the crayfish and bags of shrimps. In fact, nearly every flesh is here in its season. You notice, too, that there are many boxes of Danish fish. Owing to the fact that the Danes do not gut fish, the foreign produce reaches the market in very fine condition —often alive —and consequently has a rapid sale. No fish, however, that is not absolutely fresh is allowed to leave the market it is immediately condemned by the food inspector.

At this entrance are six sloping platforms called "forms.” At the head

of each form is a salesman, around whom gathers an eager crowd of buyers. As the porters bring in the boxes of fish they are placed on the form, bought, and slid down to a “heaverup.” who shouts out to a clerk in a box near by the size of the fish, and the price obtained. Every box that is sold is taken note of by a “checker ’ who stands at the side of the form. All this business is accompanied by a continual unroar of voices. The salesman, the'buyers, and the heaverup all vie with one another—the heaver-up being especially vocal. But what he says might be Greek, for all the visitor can understand of it. A fluctuating market is Billingsgate, and it is a clever head that can guess its ever-flckle balance.