an everyday tale of north London

I was on the 393 this morning, with my takeaway double espresso, going to Highbury & Islington tube. I was sat there reading a friend's unpublished poetry collection in proof. The guy next to me was reading his college notes, which were on screenwriting theory, and were actually strangely interesting (and well written). The man standing in front of me was reading the American edition of an enormous, and very fat, book called American Visions of Europe: Franklin D Roosevelt, George F Kennan and Dean G Acheson.

I wish I could say there'd been someone talking to Peter Gabriel on their mobile, but alas, it's only Stoke Newington, not Primrose Hill.

(Very busy: very much hoping I get to do my Elegantly Dressed Wednesday post later... )