Not all London's markets are so vibrant, though. In the 1830s, Dickens wrote that in the hour before sunrise, the area around London's great Covent Garden market was "strewed with decayed cabbage-leaves, broken hay-bands, and all the indescribable litter of a vegetable market; men are shouting, carts backing, horses neighing, boys fighting, basket-women talking, pie men expatiating on the excellence of their pastry, and donkeys braying". Today the only shouts are from the street performers and drunks who flock to the district, and the market itself has been scrubbed like a mall. Flimsy wooden carts pose as replicas of those of Dickens's time, and they now sell plastic bracelets, not cabbages. And the 300-year-old produce market has migrated to a massive warehouse in Vauxhall, where it is surrounded by a chain-link fence and long parking bays.