Invisible Stranger


Invisible Stranger

Collecting Crises on Old Compton Street and Beyond

Contact me

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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Thursday, June 19, 2003
Guilty
Rather than go to the Y to work-out alongside my fellow self-obsessed, mid-life-crisis Marys, I opted for a lie-in this morning. (Steady on, Stranger! Slippery slope and all that!)

So at 7 a.m. I slipped gracefully (but manfully) out from under my duvet (Jasper Conran) and into my bathrobe (Calvin Klein), before taking a soak (long and leisurely) with some essential oils (Body Shop). After which, I wafted (magnificently) over into my kitchen (well-appointed), to make a cup of freshly-ground coffee (Ethiopian Java).

There I sliced a warmed olive ciabatta (Euphorium bakery), onto which I arranged (artfully) cubes of feta cheese (local farmer's market). I then reached for a jar of honey (finest Australian), and drizzled it sparingly onto said feta.

And it was with that final, sparing drizzle onto said feta, my dears, that I realised with a sigh that yes, your Invisible Stranger is really nothing more than a label-crazy, and oh-so-wonderfully shallow, Islington Queen.