On romance

- he enviably reminds one of Peter Pan, indulges in women, wine and song ( and I'm not even using clichés) though he has both feet planted firmly onto the ground. He's unassuming, kindhearted, intelligent, loves art, and a fantastic lover. I am continually surprised that he is actually not bad looking (he protests, he thinks he's "very hamsome"). For all of five, six (?) glorious weeks, we shared a dizzying, immediate attraction. I was growing convinced that I had tripped into something possibly, possibly special, but the circumstances are proving difficult for us to carry on. He's a decade older, and being in a relationship with a mere 19 year old is, as he expresses, absolutely unpractical. I think my heart is breaking (only just) a little. It's probably futile, and too late, to regret the investments I made (now likely lost). It would be a lie to say there were no warnings, there were plenty; still, I should be upset with his apparently false kisses, but I can't bring myself to be. How do you blame him, who dreams of a real, beautiful future? I am fine, though.
We are holding on to a kind of limbo, but I'm not sure for how much longer. I am giving him space to sort his issues out, because I think that's how he ticks. On my end, though, I am left to play the reactionary role - I must wait for his decision, which doesn't seem fair at first, but the alternative is more unfair: a relationship with an unwilling, unsure and unfulfilled party. I am being most rational, but it still hurts (only just) a little.

Camden Town

Camden Town boasts streets and streets of markets, but unlike Portobello Market, things here are affordable. The magic is of a different kind, and the people here shout, 'if we can't be rich, let's just be weird.'








































This pub sits at the mouth of Camden Town, swallowing spent shoppers, completing the intoxication. It claims to be the largest in the world, and I promise you that I have no photo of the interior of this pub shows that they're shitting you not.

For the record, while we were at Horse Tunnel Market, a beautifully calm voice (framed by the most lullaby-like siren I have ever heard) came over the speakers urging everyone to evacuate the building 'due to an emergency'. I laughed, and Mdm Enid Blyton at the antique ornament stand laughed back. And then she stopped, "Fuck honey, this is for real" - and that was the last I saw of her.

I can't believe she swore.

Vintage Car Rally, Regent Street