Arrived at Highbury and Islington (Can we shorten this mouthful please? Hislington? Hilton?) yesterday morning to find the Victoria line had been stopped. A highly empathetic tfl guy stood at the top of the escalators, blocking entry and shouting "If you're going north, go to bus stop X, if you're going south, go to bus stop (just wrote pus stop, good name for acne cream) Y. I will not be answering individual questions."
Which is when of course all thoughts turn to terrorist threats, and feet turn smartly out of the station.
So I headed off down Upper Street with the rest of the suited booted frowny crowd. The queue at the bus stop looked like about five busloads worth so I thought a morning stroll would be a better idea. Amazing that my one stop, four minute train journey from H&I to King's Cross took 35 mins to walk.
Excitingly though, I passed this this little old italian shop, Olga Stores, with a handwritten sign outside ‘black summer truffles’. Thought I’d see how much they were. She said 15-20 quid each. I said, ha, you must be having a laugh. Then she said, well let’s see how much they are and weighed a couple and the lowest one was 16.50, next up was 19.50. And I thought to myself, ha, you must be having a laugh. But what I found said was, yes please I’ll take the big one.
Well you only live once. And it would be a terrible shame to never have eaten a truffle. Carried it to work in its little plastic bag, and realised it looked like I’d picked up someone else’s dog’s, em, doings. A friend of mine said I have to keep it covered up or I'll have all the town's pigs after me.
Now just need to figure out what to do with it.
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