Still Dreaming in Apocalypse.

My brief transatlantic adventure has come to an all too quick end, but it really does feel like ages since I was back home. If that makes any sense. No one is more shocked than myself that I actually up and went and did it all by my lonesome, but then, how else would it have happened. I can't imagine anyone following me around Windsor and London enduring all the little daubs and curios that unfailingly stopped me dead in my tracks. This way I get the experience and I am able to maintain all my healthy relationships.

One thing that struck me, and it is a stretch to say it struck me, but after returning from a country that is altogether bedecked in quilted Barbour and brogues I really can't deny anymore that the whole British heritage look I've been quietly championing has been well and truly dog-piled to death.* I could heap blame, scorn & thoughtful ridicule at a whole passel of places, but I think that would be a bit too easy and predictable. I'm just going to lay off it for a couple seasons, and maybe also be a little subtle about it. The tattersall is still thankfully unmolested so I still have my collection of Purdey shirts which aren't altogether useless. But for how long? Well moments maybe, but in Los Angeles that can be a lifetime. Chin Chin.
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* When there is very little in a shop like Topman that doesn't have faux leather elbows and shoulder patches you really should take a step back.