Trying to juggle mittens-on-string, Starbucks cup and Polaroid camera, and I totally wipe out on the sidewalk/pavement [delete as appropriate] and mash up my knee. Spend the rest of the day limping around dramatically and whinging to James D. about it.
About a third of the shops are shut but wander in and out of various vintage and thrift stores around Commercial Road/Brick Lane [Rockit - yawwwn; The Laden Showroom - some interesting things;
Beyond Retro - would have been more fun if my knee wasn't absolutely caning at this point] - decide to head more into Shoreditch for drinks etc. Mosey around, in no particular hurry although it's facking freezing, loving all the street art that this area is covered in.
First two places we aim for are closed - we then realise it's not even four thirty. Head to Prague, a little cafe a couple doors down from JaguarShoes - get irish coffees. I show the guy behind the bar my gross knee, an American girl sitting nearby smiles at me showing him. James then gets a slightly girly [although tasty] cocktail as they're only three quid.
Move on to the Old Blue Last, figure it's worth just having a look [for some reason I'm on their mailing list, still ent figured out why]. The Vice pub is relatively empty and pretty cold. Some irritating aging hipsters in one corner. More Americans on the table next to us. We stand up to leave and I'm putting on my jacket with the mittens-on-string hanging out; the American guy is totally stoked on them. Genuinely, his face practically lights up.
Move on to a pub just down Curtain Road called The Barley Mow. James makes me try some new Belgian fruit flavoured beer - Fruili or something? Don't remember the name. We sit upstairs where there's only two other people who are playing the smallest game of Connect-4 I've ever seen. [The beer is okay by the way, not as weird as it sounds. Remember drinking Snakebite Black, pound-a-pint in uni? Kinda like that.] [For those that don't know: Snakebite Black = 1/2 cider, 1/2 lager, splash of blackcurrant squash or ribena. Erm, yum?]
Decide we're hungry so aim for some Vietnamese place on Kingsland Road James knows of.
"Don't worry, it's just down here I think. Just a way down here."
Not words I want to hear when it's about minus 5 and I'm shivering like a bastard. Luckily we chance upon the restaurant and it is as good as he promises and once I've warmed up with some Jasmin tea that takes the skin off my tongue, I'm happy as Larry, whoever Larry is.
Get home later and discover a sweet text:
"East London votes H-- D-- as most wanted immigrant of 2006! ... Jx"
1 comment:
you sound engerlish again!
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