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St James’s Sunday

I rather did stumble into Upper-Crust London on this walk.  I frequently overshoot my mark making for the nearest edge of St James’s Park—I always think it’s further west than it is and end up striding down Bond Street or Savile Row past shops selling fripperies to the rich and fashionable, neither of which I … Continue reading

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The Fitzrovia Radio Hour (or, What-Ho at the Ambassador!)

Neither of us had wine with dinner.  Mild surprise registered on the face of the waitress, given that it was Valentine’s Day.  After she disappeared, we looked at each other.  “She probably thinks we’re having a…” “Completely non-romantic evening.  Which is exactly right, of course!” The waitress returned with our pot of tea and no … Continue reading

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Immersive Storytelling

I’ve been thinking a lot about stories lately.  Particularly the many ways of telling stories and what separates a story from…that which is not a story. While the most recent installment of Sherlock was on, I was struck by their use of fictional websites like John Watson’s blog and faux twitter profiles such as Irene … Continue reading

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First Snow

My uncle is visiting.  Every pub we tried to go to yesterday evening was absolutely crammed to the rafters.  Not surprising on a cold Saturday night, but still we soldiered on in search of elbow room at the bar and possibly, with luck, a place to sit down.  I’m not even going to tell you … Continue reading

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A Fitzrovian Evening

For those of us of a Wodehousian disposition, life can occasionally be very difficult. There are few Jeeveses in today’s harsh modern world. There are yet fewer bemonocled Psmiths, impeccably dressed and always up for some sort of dashing adventure. We wander about, us Wodehousians, reading away in every spare moment and heaving the occasional … Continue reading

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Follow the Dragon

There we were, shuffling along as quickly as possible.  We weren’t able to run, because around us was a very large crowd indeed.  We were attempting to follow through this crowd a drum and the bottom half of a lion dancer. It was the Chinese New Year parade in London, and we were making our … Continue reading