If you stroll down Portobello Road early on a Saturday ( before the italian puffajacket brigade arrive) you might be lucky to meet Ron and his little dog Betsy. Ron usually rummage around the fruit stalls with Betsy firmly on his shoulders at all times. I have only seen Betsy on the ground once and she looked utterly miserable before Ron finally gave in.
The story goes that Ron used to have a parrot and when it kicked the bucket Betsy saw her golden position and never left. I’m yet to build up the courage to ask the big man himself if this is true and therefore painted Ron considerably younger looking to be on the safe side…
Hang in there Betsy!
