Invisible Stranger


Invisible Stranger

Collecting Crises on Old Compton Street and Beyond

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Little Tinker

Currently clicking:
- bboyblues
- bitful
- blue witch
- diamondgeezer
- glitter for brains
- london calling
- naked blog
- troubled diva

Usually Playing:
- ute
- neil and chris
- peter and anna
- june
- kurt

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Wednesday, April 16, 2003
What's Cookin'
One good thing about a social life spent largely in a ghetto London's Soho is that, should you suddenly fancy a swift Stella or six, there's a wealth of familiar bars you can visit. And you can go alone, certain someone you know will be there.

The impromptu meal-out is trickier. Call me old-fashioned, but I still reckon eating alone in restaurants is Sad. A little pre-planning is required. So you call Friend One, who's in the area but only up for one drink and then home. Friend Two switches to voicemail because he still hasn't forgiven you for last weekend. Friend Three is broke; and Friend Four is on a no-carbs, lean-protein, wheat-free diet, and doesn't like red wine anyway, so exactly what fun is he going to be?

Getting desperate now, you ring the Foodie. She's never been known to turn down the suggestion of Snuffy's Chicken at Steph's, a pricey but perfect monkfish at Alastair Little's, or barbequed spare ribs at Joe Allen.

"Hey, hi, it's me. Where are you now?"
"Rue royale, with the Architect. Just off for a bite to eat at Maxims. Ciao."


It is at moments like these that I hate my friends. Sometimes, Comptons and a bag of chips are Simply Not Enough.