The train passes over Borough Market and as I glance down at the hustle and bustle of the street below, I see a pallet piled with five enormous wheels of cheese, sitting in the road outside Gastronomica. A black cab drives past the unusual obstacle and I wonder how they’ll get it inside the shop.
We all have those moments of grace where the heavens conspire to deliver a slice of life too good to ignore. This blog is a receptacle for mine. Expect random (in every sense) observations, miraculous mundanities, and crimes against fashion; if it tickles me, I'll post it, as and when, no pressure.
1 comment:
What a cool name for a food store-gastronomica-the old BF would have made a special trip just to visit something like that.
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