Who will be the next Mayor of London? As you all know by now I’m hoping for Boris. Tory MP Boris Johnson is proving to be tough competition for current Mayor Ken “Red Ken” Livingstone.
Johnson became MP (Member of Parliament) back in 2001 after running with the slogan: “Voting Tory will cause your wife to have bigger breasts and increase your chances of owning a BMW M3″. Classic!
Boris recently sent in his application form to be Mayor of London. His handwritten (!) application caused some emotions throughout London and, of course, headlines in the media. You can see the original form here . When asked to give 3 examples of challenges faced and the outcome, Boris wrote:
“1) Trying to help raise 4 children in inner London. Outcome too early to call, but looking promising.
2) Taking on Blair and Campbell in the battle of Black Rod’s memorandum on the Queen Mother’s Lying-in-State. Outcome: total victory.
3) Negotiating Hyde Park Corner by bicycle. Outcome: survival.”
I thought I’d present to you some of the places that have proven themselves to be lifesavers to me and to some of my colleagues when things get rough in the fierce world of retail. At lunchtime, that is. They are all gathered around the office at Holborn Circus. (It was sunny today and I was bored. Humour me.) You’ll need to click on the images to get the full view.
(Below: My office at Holborn Circus)
(below: Pret A Manger, Chancery Lane. Yes, I know, I know, they’re owned by McDonald’s. But they do have some good stuff, especially when you haven’t had a chance to have breakfast. And their level of service is unsurpassed – simply outstanding staff! Also, they seem to have restaurants everywhere so you never have to look for them.)
(below: Eatsies. A good sandwhich counter, complementary fruit, and nice “hot salads” - i.e. woks and pasta dishes. Flirting staff and a big bowl where customers can leave “spare” change.)
(below: London’s oldest tailors: Ede & Ravenscroft. OK, so they haven’t really saved my life but they make nice shirts. And it’s cool that they have been making bespoke clothes (and wigs) since 1689.)
During lunch today I came across this just outside my office. I took a photo of it because it illustrates so perfectly the reason why I can’t understand people (99% of the time they’re women) who say that they “don’t care what car it is, as long as it is…(insert favourite colour here)”.
Please examine exhibit A.
Yes, they are both red. Yes, they are both made in the UK. Yes, they are both noisy. But the one in front is crap. The one behind it is not. And I don’t care that the one in front “is roomier and has more space to fit stuff”. The one behind it is handmade and comes with an F1 gearbox. Game over. (Although it is a shame that every footballer in the world seems to drive one.)
Back from my run along the beach. The winds were mad down there but I somehow managed to push myself for 8.2 km. Not bad at all!
Time to wind down with a French movie. Time for “La Fille sur le Pont”.
A plus.
Jobbar hemifran idag och lyssnar pa Cornelis Vreeswijk i bakgrunden. Cornelis gor under. Vilken lirare. Det ar en gra dag i Hove, men vi ar atminstone inte oversvammade har nere som de ar i resten av England.
I eftermiddag bar det av till frisoren - jag ser ju ut som en farhund i skallen. Sen blir det en loptur for att forsoka fa bort traningsvarken jag drog pa mig i gymmet i forrgar. Ser ut som en idiot nar jag forsoker fa pa mig kavajen….
It’s Sunday. Sunshine and beautiful blue skies.
I’m going down to the beach now. The beach! Oh, how I love being able to say that.
The English always get my name wrong. In the beginning it annoyed me but now I’m so used to it I’ve almost come to expect it.
My friend’s friend has the coolest name in the world. His name is Jack Herodes. People would never get his name wrong.
I don’t think Jack fully understands how rock’n'roll his name is. Noone in their right mind would mess with a guy called Jack Herodes. Noone would doubt Jack if he claimed to be a F1 driver/billionnaire businessman/hitman/the owner of downtown Manhattan. Or an heir to the throne of a small kingdom.
Jack, I am so jealous.
