On the N76, listening to Blur

Somehow, I have never been to Stoke Newington. I’d heard the stories of course: disaffected actors roaming the street, exchanging a Shakespearean soliloquy for a teaspoon of Tesco hummus, unwashed 20 somethings lovingly stroking the tube map as they crowd onto one of t0o few 243s.

And some ethnics, yeah?

Still, maybe its my luck or urban ninja skills but my evening passes without incident….and though I spent the same time travelling as I did ‘partying’, I’m glad that James “Danger Sex” Huntrods convinced me to come out. Laura was having a House warming, and I was a much hyped late arrival. I wish I were a Clooney esque game changer, but alas I was Diwali’d out and had little to offer the attractive and disappointed pre-patel guests…

House was nice though – delicately arty in a way nowhere I live ever will be again. Oh for the cultured mess of 29 Engadine Street…

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