I’ve been out twice this last week, in the west end, in the actual evening, and on school nights.
Is this my first pre covid type week for two years?
I think it might be.
Marmalade and I went to see BelVita give a talk about her art practice in a fancy Belgravia restaurant, she was fabulous.
Then the Knitties were in town. They were down from Scotland for some London action, museums and the like. The Knitties, Cornflake, and I went to one of my favourite restaurants in Piccadilly. I gave my telephone number when asked for it. Welcome back Fat Tart they said.
I know that’s just a fancy database in action, but I did feel welcomed. Knitty proved herself a true friend by loving the restaurant as much as I do.
On our way there we walked through Leicester Square passing pockets of people enjoying the street performers. Soon after I was greeted by Le from the studio. In the same place at the same time by chance, we hugged, pleased to meet outside of the studio building for the first time. He was working at another building owned by our studio people. He was much smarter than I’m used to seeing him. Yes, he said, acknowledging his sartorial up grade, and I have to smile all the time, it hurts, inside and out.
London really is my kind of town.
I picked up a free Quran from a polite young man, he asked my name, I told him, only he hadn’t asked my name. No, he said, what language? Ah, if you don’t have Fat Tart, I’ll take English, I said. He wasn’t phased.
I got splashed by a pissing drunk, disgusting behaviour. Cornflake was furious and I was glad that I told him after the event.
Still my kind of town though.
One day in the week was Cornflake’s birthday, the weather wasn’t great, we stayed in all day and had a roast dinner, it was the best Sunday ever, but on a Wednesday.
Loving life.
fat tart 