no place like london

Some days I just want to sell everything I own and move back to London. Today is a day like that, kindly bear with me. I think it was sparked off by my finding these lovely prints

Notting Hill Carnival "Who the fuck is this? Surely not Che?"

You got to choose which budgie you trusted most to predict your fortune (fact: you can determine the trustworthiness of a bird by the shape of their beak) and then they picked up a piece of paper and gave it to you. I kept my fortune safe, tucked away in my still-awaiting-publication Gap Yah Journal:

The heavenly gift for you will be a wealth man. Your best friends will envy your happiness but they won't harm you. Your lucky star says: you'll live in happiness and silence, and you'll be his before marriage. You'll inherit a great wealth from an uncle. You'll marry Peter and you'll live 86 years. You'll also have babies.

Those of you who know me will agree this is preeeettttty eerie! Shout out to my best friends for not harming me, and mwa to my wealth man Pete!