As anyone who has ever spent any time in this city will know, out there on the street, things can sometimes get a bit surreal. Every day, from the minute he or she sets foot out of the door to the minute he or she comes back home, the average Londoner comes across enough characters to fill an entire cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, including extras. Often, by the time I've walked the 100 or so metres from my front door to the entrance of the tube station, I see more, how should I say this, "strange" things happening than one would in a week somewhere else.
Fresh off the dentist's chair, and on making my way to work, on Wednesday morning, I thought I'd take a detour through Soho, via Bloomsbury, and the few blocks north of Oxford Street now known as Noho.
Whenever I take the walk - ie, whenever I go to the dentist's or the doctor's - I follow exactly the same route, which means I know it well enough to allow myself to daydream without thinking of getting lost or distracted. The check-up with The Nicest Dentist In The World had been positive, so I was feeling quite chirpy, and looking forward to a day at work.
At the back of my head, was The Editor's wrath at my not being able to deliver this column on time (again) this week, but I knew I wouldn't have time to do it anyway, so I stopped feeling guilty about it. (Note to The Editor: Can we please come to a compromise and have a Thursday deadline?)
As I turned the corner of Carlisle Street and Dean Street, my mental ramblings were interrupted by the sight of a board advertising last night's final edition of the Evening Standard with the headline Police Arrest Batman, referring to the arrest of actor Christian Bale - in town to promote The Dark Knight in which he plays the winged superhero - following allegations of assault made by his mother and his sister. At first, I wasn't going to, but then I thought, "You can't not! This is why we have technology!" So out came my new fancy phone to take the picture that I'm sending as a kind of postcard today. The perfect metaphor for the city where the unreal becomes real, and where anything can happen!
I'm worried. Having been an enemy of Tesco for as far back as I can remember, I now find myself obsessed by the branch that has opened in the fancy block next door. It's now become very easy to "run down to the shop" and get a few things and coming back with bagfuls of stuff, which I have to carry up three floors. (Maybe that's why the stomach seems to be disappearing.) Spending money in supermarkets is in my genes. I've inherited it from my mother. Having a big shiny one next door - and a Tesco at that - is not going to help! Must seek assistance on that one.
Unbeknown to all but a few, there's been a bit of a search for a flatmate going on here. The luxury of having a spare bedroom to use as a study has taken its toll and the bank balance, so a decision was made to get a lodger. A few possibilities fell through, but now the search is over and an Italian girl has moved in. She was originally staying for a week and look for a flat and then asked if she could stay on because it was ideal for her, so it all fell neatly into place. She's a friend of a colleague, and comes highly recommended, so hopefully it will all go well.
Fresh off the dentist's chair, and on making my way to work, on Wednesday morning, I thought I'd take a detour through Soho, via Bloomsbury, and the few blocks north of Oxford Street now known as Noho.
Whenever I take the walk - ie, whenever I go to the dentist's or the doctor's - I follow exactly the same route, which means I know it well enough to allow myself to daydream without thinking of getting lost or distracted. The check-up with The Nicest Dentist In The World had been positive, so I was feeling quite chirpy, and looking forward to a day at work.
At the back of my head, was The Editor's wrath at my not being able to deliver this column on time (again) this week, but I knew I wouldn't have time to do it anyway, so I stopped feeling guilty about it. (Note to The Editor: Can we please come to a compromise and have a Thursday deadline?)
As I turned the corner of Carlisle Street and Dean Street, my mental ramblings were interrupted by the sight of a board advertising last night's final edition of the Evening Standard with the headline Police Arrest Batman, referring to the arrest of actor Christian Bale - in town to promote The Dark Knight in which he plays the winged superhero - following allegations of assault made by his mother and his sister. At first, I wasn't going to, but then I thought, "You can't not! This is why we have technology!" So out came my new fancy phone to take the picture that I'm sending as a kind of postcard today. The perfect metaphor for the city where the unreal becomes real, and where anything can happen!
I'm worried. Having been an enemy of Tesco for as far back as I can remember, I now find myself obsessed by the branch that has opened in the fancy block next door. It's now become very easy to "run down to the shop" and get a few things and coming back with bagfuls of stuff, which I have to carry up three floors. (Maybe that's why the stomach seems to be disappearing.) Spending money in supermarkets is in my genes. I've inherited it from my mother. Having a big shiny one next door - and a Tesco at that - is not going to help! Must seek assistance on that one.
Unbeknown to all but a few, there's been a bit of a search for a flatmate going on here. The luxury of having a spare bedroom to use as a study has taken its toll and the bank balance, so a decision was made to get a lodger. A few possibilities fell through, but now the search is over and an Italian girl has moved in. She was originally staying for a week and look for a flat and then asked if she could stay on because it was ideal for her, so it all fell neatly into place. She's a friend of a colleague, and comes highly recommended, so hopefully it will all go well.