No hay fever here

Pollen Street Social, all day every day breakfast (except Sunday).

Mega!

The Boss

I made my way to work on a clammy July morning via the dirty warm underground as per usual, upon which every passenger seemed to be developing an untimely cold or cough, with at least one weeping eye. It made me uneasy. A hand held a shredded tissue that failed in it's function, causing a snide seat wipe followed by a sneaky knee rub then finishing with a slide across and down the bars upon exit. An advert, funnily enough on a page from the metro read, British strawberries. British strawberries at a well known metro chain, I need at least 1 of my 5 a day now!

Stepping over the threshold of the well known metro chain, I was instantly face to fruit with WKMC's heavily advertised collection of British strawberries. It was big, vast even, and half price too! Then I drifted… Murray knocked out of Wimbledon, Lewis 10th on pole only to finish third, and then there's England…

UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA! BLIP! BLIP!

repeated over and over in a demonic fashion.

Rudely awoken from my drift, I focused back on the task in hand, beautiful, sweet, perfectly seasonal, British strawberries, first place on anyones taste buds… Then I observed the anaemic patterned content of my desired punnet and read the label, grown in the USA.

¿Porque?

Hugh gotta be jokin'!!!!

Channel 4. Say no more.

Not so silent

A six o'clock screening of Pandora's Box made for an early exit from work. I was running close to being late as I crossed the bridge from Embankment. I thought I'd avoid rumbling belly sounds during the film and bought a sandwich from EAT on South Bank to fill the gap. That's when I experienced that annoying walking whilst eating thing I had witnessed many 'no time to stop' people do. It started with removing package from bag, opening and balancing box, negotiating the removal of butty without losing any filling using a napkin, unfolding your second napkin to hold it (because you have just been in contact with a contaminated bar on the tube, inevitably sneezed and coughed upon) whilst managing a stubborn, large bag in a tenuous breeze with not one litter bin in site.

EAT- Would you like a bag?

W2N2- No thanks.

The film was great, accompanied by piano from scene to scene, quite extraordinary in this day and age. Then there was my friend's Bounty. He didn't have time to buy a sarny and do 'the walk' and instead brought his street chocolate into the pictures. Could he open it? Not without the cinema poleeece hearing him. their chair creaked to it's upright position any time there was a slight crackle. This happened three times at least and sent me into a silent, uncontrollable, shoulder shrugging bout of laughter. The funniest thing of all was the guy in front of us kept receiving a pinpoint torch beam into his face and lap every time it happened. The film ended…

Friend- What are they all clapping for?

W2N2- The guy playing the piano, he's over there in the spotlight.

Friend- F*ck off! There's no bloke playing the piano! Oh, so there is…

We clapped and made our way to see Shrag.

Arnold Circus

With woolly dental floss frayed between my k9's, the day started far too early for a weekend and I'd tried everything but a coat hanger to get it out!!!! The sun was shining, the sky cloudless and the first scent of autumn was in the air. I went for a walk to East central London (E2 I think) to meet my friend for a late breakfast or brunch, br(eakfast) (L)unch.

When I got there, I realised I'd been to Leila's a year or so before following an art car-boot fair just off Prick Lane… But this time I was earlier, could get a seat and actually order more than a drink. I had a ponsy coffee to start, which was good, then eggs with Parma ham, also good, then split those with my friend's order, eggs fried with sage, which were surprisingly unbelievable. We washed the huevos down with a jug of apple juice.

Leila's, 12.30 latest, or you'll struggle for a seat… Queuing is rubbish, especially on a small street, or anywhere for that matter.

I beg your Padron!

Just ate a bag of the babies (cooked of course), and I have just had the roulette chilli… Superhot! I'm getting some more tomorrow too…

Whoop whoop! Is the sound of Fleur de lys

My penultimate night in San Francisco and I'm gonna have a blow out meal. I asked for a discreet seat in the heavily draped, intimate dining room of Fleur de Lys. I was granted my request and placed in the centre of the dining room. Okay, I thought as I sat down, feeling rather nervous, heart booming, expecting everyone to be having a good old stare…

Wife- Oh look, that man is dining alone?

Husband- He wears sneakers too.

The reality was, no one give a shit. Boris made my table and introduced me to the so called celebrity chef. Great I thought, now let's have a look at the menu… Crab salad, beef cheeks, cheese board and a flight of wine please. Plenty of surprises arrived courtesy of the chef between the courses, all good except for one little pastry, it arrived on a cling film wrapped petri style dish with seeds and other bits in it.

Boris- Careful not to pierce the film if you use your fork…

W2N2- ???????

This place was that good, I arrived at 20.30 and left at 23.05.