My head was fuzzy my stomach empty and the queue outside the Club a mile long. To make matters worse it started to rain as we approached. After a few expletives directed at no one in particular,we made a hasty retreat into O'Neill's Pub in Carnaby Street. The 'hair of the dog' went down a treat, washing away the previous night's excesses and the bbq burger and chips.
never got to taste the food...this time
no wonder the queues are long!
humn?!?...not quite what I had in mind
gloomy in the rain - the view from O'Neill's
There is a kind of serene melancholy when the rain falls in London. I never quite know what to make of it, but I know I like it. It is so familiar; the greyness, the smell, the atmosphere. It feels like the great city is weeping, quietly, without a fuss, as if wanting to go unnoticed. Part of me wants the rain to keep falling, as a reminder that life has its ups and downs, its good and bad times. London weeps with me, albeit for different reasons... I just wanted breakfast, that's all!