If women didn’t exist all the money in the world would have no meaning
Perhaps I’ll take you through a typical few days, now that I’ve begun to have the luxury (?) of such things.
Category Archives: London
A prime site for dreams, the East’s exuberant vision of the West, the West’s uneasy hallucination of the East.
…and then we all felt brilliant the next morning and did heaps of really dedicated sightseeing and decided that that was way better than drinking anyway so stayed in the next night and played cards instead.
Lies.
Bohemian Like You.
At 4.45am the alarm went off and I was out the door by 5.15am, to make the very first Circle Line tube of the day from Kings Cross at 5.31am to make the 6am National Express bus from Liverpool St to make the 8.30am flight from London Stansted to Budapest. All going well.
And ixnay on the wishing for more wishes. That’s all. Three. Uno, dos, tres.
You knew the restaurant was going to be trendy because it was under a sex shop. I’d arrived first and was snuggled into the basement sex-den-come-Mexican-bodega with a tempranillo and the deliberately cryptic menu.
50 Ways To Die In The West
A handy guide for other London neophytes.
Fling flang flung: a very tartan Valentine
“The Virginia Reel!”
The emcee on the hall’s stage is, disappointingly, not kilted but is to be forgiven as he has a beautiful Scottish brogue, great lungs and a love of the dance.
“He…wrote poems to her, which, ignoring the subject, she corrected in red ink.”
An update on work + play in London.
Halos etc.
Angel Islington is one of the pretty pale blue properties on the Monopoly Board. It’s nestled in near Euston Rd, Pentonville Rd, Kings Cross Station, Chance and Jail. For years I idly wondered, whenever I landed on this cheap little property, what angels had to do with it. These were the days before Google, obviously.
Drugs and alcohol and fried chicken
It’s been tumultuous, welcoming but life-expectancy-shortening week. A brief rundown is below. No doubt more details will arise in subsequent entries.
Gap minded.
It was this little realisation, made at freezing cold Paddington station as Sunday’s sun gave up on its feeble attempt to warm the day, that threatened to evoke my first panic attack. And it’s the equally little things that are helping to settle my jiggling ‘what have I done’ anxiety.
An unsettlingly big place 