Today, like most Sundays, I woke up feeling that familiar zombie-esque numbness caused by the tequila from the night before. Last night was a fun trip to Forest Hill to see The JJs and a very good friend of mine spin some Rocksteady in a nice little pub. This morning I refused to let the Guinness get the better of me and hopped on a train to Soho. To fuel my desire to beetle about a grey and rainy tourist location I decided a bit of spendiness was called for. Two new Dancehall albums, two centres, two slip matts, 3o sleeves and 1 Oi DVD later I sat in Bar Italia, dying.
1 Cappuccino, Italian football and a Bradley Wiggins moment later it was home time. Victoria line, Piccadilly line, Mama’s pizza with extra jalapenos, chocolate, pyjamas, vinyl playing…bed.