It’s like finding a four-leaf clover in a haystack, but when you stumble upon Bonda Café you won’t be disappointed
There’s nothing more deflating than being told that ‘you look tired’ despite the fact you’ve slept like a log
January is dismal, unexciting and where hope goes to die. Why compound this time of unhappiness with a denial of all things fun?
Brixton was the last place I would have ever considered living but I was down on my luck and couldn’t afford to be fussy
I decided that swimming would be my sport of choice for this year’s half-arsed attempt to get fit
Ordinarily I am mild mannered to a fault; barely able to say ‘pssst’ to a budgie let alone ‘boo’ to a goose
The experience of being amongst ‘my people‘ does nothing but undermine my sense of self and exasperate self-loathing.
Holidays only really succeed in highlighting the tedium of my regular existence.
What gets me is the people who move to London and live an existence you could live on a trading estate in Devon. Why move to London, rent a mouldy room and suffer relentless damp if you aren’t going to embrace its social(ising) superiority?
Like a modern Alice in Wonderland, getting to Brasserie Roux restaurant requires quite a journey: past a sanitised reception area – where one would assume ambience and character go to die - and through an expansive, marble, rabbit warren that is the Sofitel Hotel.
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