Another day in paradise

Had an afternoon drink in South Kensington this afternoon, with a pal (ex-welsh international rugby player as it happens!) who wants me to do a few bits for him, so felt it was a good opportunity to get a few 'snaps' in the salubrious surroundings of SW7. We met up in the Anglesey Arms, an old haunt of mine, just a few doors away from where Charles Dickens was once a resident.

I took some fab shots of the houses in and around Onlsow Gardens and one in particular which I really liked showing all house numbers painted black vandalising the bright white pillars all the way down the terrace. Quite fascinating how they had all been painted at the perfect height, all justified and at a specific angle presumably to make it easy for 'postie' as he cycled along distributing his wares....all, that is, except for Number 26, who obviously was a good deal taller and more important than the rest of the residents as his/her number was a good 6 inches higher. It made me wonder if there was some sort of Number Police whose job it was to ensure that all numbers were painted onto the pillars at the allotted height. Of course as you stood at the end and looked down the street, it's misplacement became all the more apparent.

As I arrived at the pub located on a corner, there were Polling Station stickers and signposts all over the pub wall and were not going to be ignored! Their role clearly was to guide sinners away from the public house and down to the low level hall where they could cast their vote and doubtless be cleansed at the same time.

We had a pint too many, and my friend dashed off for his train and I wandered slowly back to South Kensington tube taking every opportunity for more shots as I went. Outside the tube station was this gent, in dire need of a bath and a few pennies to feed his drink and cigarette addiction. He desperately wanted a chat and offered me a card trick for my pleasure. He was quite intense and intent on showing something worthy. The magic in his trick was that having chosen my card, he could no longer find it, no matter how adroit he was at shuffling. Here you see him desperately searching through the pack for my card, he would not be beaten.

Not a classic trick and who knows, maybe he was a professional in his time, but if so, I could tell why he was now on the streets, for it was in truth, diabolical. But he seemed a genuinely nice chap just down on his luck. He wished me prosperity as I bade him farewell and, as I turned and walked away, he looked down at his cards and continued picking them up saying, as if talking to his imaginary friend:

"Another day in paradise!"

I suspect not!