Sex and Drugs and Bacon Rolls

Went on a drive into central London earlier today with the intention of paying a visit to The Breakfast Club in Soho. It's supposed to serve great breakfasts and that's exactly what I needed after a late night at an engagement party.

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!

:)