People I am friends with take fewer photos than they used to. Which is fine, an inevitable rejection of Facebook conventions, now we’re all getting so elderly.

But there were so many beautiful things I wanted to capture this weekend:

how elegant my friend looked waiting for me outside the tube. I had, in an heroic set-piece of idiocy, got on the tube for two stops before I realised I had left my fucking phone at work. I was forty minutes late but there she was, like a postcard from Paris outside M&S.

meeting someone new who was not only beautiful but also extraordinary. I didn’t meet him romantically, but he was captivating, and had made something beautiful which he carried in his bag like a travelling circus.

And oh my god I have eaten so much food.


From more pancakes than you can eat without feeling a food hangover here,

to squatting on a bench in Covent Garden eating sandwiches and watching a forlorn psychic tout for business, losing out to a man with a diabolo.

Last night I made a precarious dinner which didn’t entirely work and consisted of lots of cheese, mainly, and things vertically stacked. There are leftovers which I think is a lesson to us all.

It is now Monday, and there is pudding for breakfast, and I have a whole day to finally ease back in.