All of yesterday's quiteness was for nought. C strolled in eating McDonalds' finest at around midday having been in his words: a very clean stopout. The animator and I were thrilled to hear his dispatches from batchelorland - hours spent at Tiger Tiger playing sardines followed by a nightbus to Willesden. It all sounded very exciting to us - we're too poor to have a social life, but we're not yet old enough not to miss it.
Finally, today after knowing about it for months I managed to get to the Farmers' Market that is held on Sunday behind the Waitrose on Marylebone High St. An abundance of delights. It's a nice walk from Badger Mansions all along New Cavendish St. I love that road - where else can a shop specialising in pink lacy corsets be found a few doors down from an old-style caff? Said caff proudly features an arrangement of catering-size tins of Heinz baked beans and tomato soup. As if to say: we won't try to fob you off with any 'homemade' muck here, all our food comes direct from the tin - just like you have at home.