Socially networking

I had a big blue scarf jobby wrapped round my head and neck, gloves and socks so that my extremities were all toasty warm. By the time I got to the Kings Road I had removed my scarf, rolled up my gloves into a ball but left my socks on.
ROCOCO CHOCOLATE SHOP first browse, hand made chocs that look like asparagus or pebbles or lips. Very expensive but the perfect gift for the chocoholics in your life. I used to know one of the serving wenches, a daughter of GFL contributors, now its a mixed race American geezer with a good shaped head and a neurotic turn of phrase and a Swiss milky skinned maid.
A mooch in WILDE ONES, one of my favourite shops anywhere, more Native American turquoise than you can shoot an arrow at, plus all kinds of esoteric gew-gaws for reading, striking and smelling.
Then AFTER NOAH which is full of retro clocks, telephones and toys and boxes of games and rarified object d’art that are meant for the arty objects of desire in your life.
Next stop, walking down the right hand side of the street, was LUSH I dived into the soapy displays and swapped five empty pots for one little pot of goo – for aging skin, and then. crossing over in the rain, my final destination JOHN LEWIS where they wont knowingly rip you off, yeah and pigs might fly….

I bought piles of things for all the children in my life from yo-yos to dominoes, from diaries to tambourines.
After a swift walk, head down to keep the cold needles of sleet off my face, I bought two boxes of chocolates on my way back, I was offered to taste some handmade evil but declined. I have an iron will, today at least.
The flat felt really warm after the freezing afternoon damp.
I ate my lunch in front of ALAN JOHNSON on the Parliament Channel, talking to nobody in particular about the financial chaos in Ireland and fancied, as I chewed on my cucumber and raw spinach, that I could follow his reasoning. I like the ex-postman, he sounds like he knows what he’s talking about even if I don’t understand all the references.
After a Sykpe chat with THE BARRYMAN I ran for the 170. Climbed off at Battersea Bridge and took a bus to Sloane Square. One stop on the tube to Victoria, one stop to Green Park, a quick walk through the tunnels to the Piccadilly line and two stops to Leicester Square.
It was good to be back on Charing Cross Road, felt like old times. And then as synergy would have it I went to a party on the floor above my dear friends SAX SHOP in DENMARK STREET. Met with old mates from LBC, had a bit of a chin-wag, then hooked up with B and we left for Golden Square.
A right and left through Soho, a huddle in the door ways and a hasty trot to Sony and we took our seats in a swanky screening room.
THE SOCIAL NETWORK is a fast, furious, funny, true story about the setting up of Facebook. B snuffled all the way through, not because it was emotional but because she has a cold, it’s the rotten damp in her horrible flat in Hackernee…
We double backed to Berwick Street and had supper in THE MEDITERRANEAN RESTAURANT, small, warm and very friendly. I feel sick now too much meze for me middle-aged midriff.
She went thataway and I went this. Took the 22 on Piccadilly to Beaufort Street, and walked in the Siberian wind to Battersea Bridge, jumped on the surprise arrival of the 170 and hit the flat in time for half the News and a cup of camomile and vanilla tea.
Battersea Square will sport a new oyster bar next year. Cor we aint ‘alf getting grand rarned ‘ere…
It’s been an out of doors kind of day. A wrapped up warm kind of time. Tomorrow I am compensating by writing in front of the computer. I shall be sporting my red knitted socks and thick pj’s. There won’t be a pair of gloves in sight.
If all goes to plan it’s a trip to Hammersmith for a theatrical party. Right now though, I’m heading off to bed. I have four pillows to fall into and two duvets to curl up under. I’m falling asleep just thinking about izzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz