Very continental journey home this evening. On the way back from watching my colleague's shorts (not as weird or pervy as it sounds - shorts as in short plays and films at the Old Red Lion), delved onto the Piccadilly line and cooled myself down with hot waves of "Special" "Not in service" trains zooming past while listening to some busker playing Miles Davis' So What or some other type of Jazz that ought to be on Round Midnight.
More continental toons on my MP3 - Dr Rokit's Cafe de Flore from Angel Beach and then saw some continental looking legs in some real shorts just as I left
Wow, we could almost be in Lisbon on the tube (that's the closest I'll get to talking about Portugal today).
At least no one was cycling bikes down my part of the District Line or firing air pistols.
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