Happy New Year!

                                                                Shot by Paul Hartnett.


Now kids, remember, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Be safe and have a great evening wherever you are going for your new years' festivities. 


Are you guys as excited and looking forward to the new year as I am?Pin It

Bags at Waterloo and Pimlico, London.

Does anybody know who the designers are for the first and third bag(s)?


Anyone?Pin It

Details...London.

Did you guys have a good Christmas? Any tales?Pin It

Hair Envy - Let It Flow, London.

What do you want me to do, I'm sorry. 


People like me that are bald cannot help it but envy these guys.Pin It

IKEA Part Two...Last Minute Shopping At Hamleys.

Lilly's Day Out - a christmas shopping trip from hell.

Christmas for 2010 is done and gone. BUT, before we totally let go, I have to tell you about my last-minute shopping escapde. 

A promise is a debt. Boy, don't I know the meaning of those words.

It doesn't matter which evasion technique I employed, it was time to make good on a promise I made to a little girl back in August. I'm a man of my word and could no longer put it off. The day was finally upon us. So, I gathered all my sanity and decided to brave London's West End on the last weekend before Christmas. (talk about total insanity on my part - it was snowing!)

Quick question: do you guys remember my niece Lilly from the IKEA escapade? For those of you that have just joined us, welcome. Let me introduce you to Lilly - five years old, way too smart for her age, extremely mischievous and will hold you for ransom. In order for you to really get the gist and enjoy today's special, here's a reminder...


Now that we have been re-acquainted, please allow me to proceed and tell you about a christmas shopping trip that can only be from hell. Sit tight and brace yourselves. It's a doozy.


With hindsight, I shouldn't have promised Lilly a trip to Hamleys. But then again, it was her ingenuity that saved my skin from IKEA. Now, at the time of saying this, I had no intention whatsoever of coming through with my payment. It was something that was said in the moment, "I'll take you and two of your friends to Hamleys for a christmas shopping trip. Okay?" I said in a conspiratory voice that was accompanied with sly wink. Now it was time to collect.


Now, for those of you that are London residents, I do not need to explain to you the places to avoid during the christmas shopping season. Hamleys is one of them - that is unless you have little ones that you promised a trip there months ago, because, trust me, these guys never forget! Houdini couldn't get out of this one even if he tried!


For those of you that are not London residents, let me explain to you what goes on in hell, sorry Hamleys. But before I go any further, I would like to point out that I have no personal vendetta against the management of Hamleys or the products they sell. Infact they bring bounds of joy to little ones but untold misery to adults. It is the miserable grumpy grown ups like myself that have to contend with the dreary old place.


Located on Regent street, Hamleys cannot be missed. Just look out for the big building with a red flag. There will also be a multitude of kids outside and miserable-looking adults prying them from the place because they don't want to go home.


First of all, the noise level equates to that of a helicopter engine, then you've got the 'constant runners' whose mothers have a fatigue level that I can only imagine equates to the terror alert in the US. They simply have given up and just stand there rolling their eyes heaven-ward while watching their kid as they torture the poor guy on minimum wage dressed as Santa or some other sort of clown outfit that management concocted. Then there's that fat naughty boy who is so spoiled that no other kid wants to play with and resorts to taunting the younger ones whose parents are afraid to tell him off for fear of retaliation from the parent.


Back to the story...


Lilly had brought her two friends from school Kiki and Cece (not their real names) to join the party. They had spent the night at my sister's and I had been summoned by her to come and meet the other two musketeers and their mums to say hello and also be 'thanked' (more like prayers for the damned) for my 'kindness'. I could tell from the knowing look on their faces that I didn't know what I had got myself into. I knew full well what was in store for the next day and so I braced myself. I just wished I could wipe that smug look off of my sister's face. It was pay back time indeed.


Before we left surburbia under a blanket of snow, I had earlier on laid down some ground rules. "You shall hold hands at all times, if any one gets lost, call the number on your wristband (as a way of keeping tabs on them, I had devised an ingenius plan by making wristbands with name, age, contact telephone number incase one wanders off somewhere I can't see them). And no crying."


No sooner had we got into town than Cece wanted to use the little girls' room. Now I shouldn't have bought that ice cream from the station before we got on the train even though I was guilt tripped into doing so and seeing those little 'innocent faces', one couldn't deny them the pleasure. (why would anyone sell ice cream on a freezing snowy winter's day?) One wouldn't want to start the day on a bad note, so I indulged them. 


Now this was a first for me, simply because, I have never taken a five year old girl to the bathroom. Do you go in with her? What do you do? Luckily, some lady must have seen my predicament and came to the rescue because I looked lost and confused like monk in a brewery while the little girl had to go immediately. To ensure this episode did not happen again, I sent the other two in as well because now that we got the chance, they had to go and relieve themselves as well.


Now at this point, a slight headache was begining to develop threatening to escalate into a fully blown migrane just by thinking about what lay ahead for me. "Think nice things David." I kept telling myself. "Think Geneva, the Alps, Gstaad, Mustique, St. Mauritz." "Soon my son, soon. Just need to get this over with." I was snapped back to earth by little fingers tagging on my leg. "Ready to go?" I asked.

Again, if anyone ever tells you not to go to Hamleys during christmas shopping season, please take their advice. It's bad enough the West End is already clogged with cars and people all rushing to get that last minute gift for a loved one. I cannot put it in words. It's like describing the colour red to the blind. You have to see it for yourself to really appreciate what I'm on about. Londoners, can I get an amen to that.


Now, imagine three hyper five years-olds and a dude with no childcare experience. (better yet, imagine Charlie Sheen's character, Charlie, from the sitcom Two And A Half Men, left to care for three five year olds). My definition of hell if you ask me. You should have seen my face at this point. I was disillusioned and feeling a bit light headed from the congestion on the tube with three little girls to look out for. For those of you who know what I'm talking about, raise your hands. I gotta say though, the no-crying rule was holding up really well simply because the impending threat to go home immediately was hanging in the air.


When we got to the store, it was excatly what I expected - hyper kids running around and shouting like someone had shouted fire! in a crowded theatre, grumpy and pushy mothers fighting for a chance to get their kids to sit on Santa's lap, people bumping me in the head with bigger than life stuffed animals and saying "sorry mate" with a cunning smile on their faces, Lilly and co. smiling like Chesire cats and running all over the place ( Now this brought joy to my heart seeing the little ones happy. Grumpy as I am).


So I stood in one corner with all the other can't-be-bothered parents and got into conversation of how we all hate christmas shopping and everything else for that matter. Hey, why not go to town while we are on the subject including the over-crowded tube, the tourists, the weather, in-laws, you name it.


After a while, I felt more depressed than O. J. Simpson decided to leave the grumpy group to look for my rugrats and go home. I had had enough. Little did I know that Lilly had told her other friends that they could choose anything they want, Uncle David will pay. So I found myself several hundred pounds poorer courtesy of my little niece and her friends.


I gotta say though, it was kind of fun for me too, seeing the girls having a time of their lives and the stories they would be sharing about their holidays when school started. It brought a genuine happiness to my heart. You know, the kind that money cannot buy. But, I have learnt my lesson never to make any promises. But then again, never say never...

Do you guys have any last minute christmas shopping tales you wanna share with the class?Pin It

Brick Lane: London's Most Fashion Forward Quarter.

There is something in the water on Brick Lane. Everyone here is so fashion forward...

This dude almost punched my guts out! I mean, look at his eyes...


Have a splendid Christmas everyone!Pin It

Christmas Wish: Balenciaga Back-pack.

I'm wondering whether it comes in charcoal black? Pin It

Changing...Sommerset House, London.

I had to sneak this in before 'the big day'.


For those of you that are going out for Christmas parties, be smart like this young lady here and carry an extra pair.Pin It

Back When...Convent Garden, London.

As the whole of Britain is brought to it's knees by mother nature, I thought I would share with you these pictures that were taken a million years ago on the last day of the spring-summer shows at London Fashion Week of the ever-stylish Michelle.Pin It

Julian Assange: Hero or Villain? - My Verdict.

"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" Luke 6:31

Sausages: "I'll never eat sausages again!" These were the words of someone I know. "But why?" I inquired. "Do you know how sausages are manufactured? Trust me, you do not want to know. It's disgusting and thinking about it now makes me want to puke!" "But they are delicious. No?" I replied. "Okay,I'll admit to having consumed quite a few in my time and still would if I did not find out how they're made." was the reply I got which brings me to this week's topic of choice, Wikileaks and it's director Julian Assange. You must be thinking, "how's Wikileaks connected to sausages?" Bare with me as I segue into it.


Unless you have been living on a different planet, you must have heard of wikileaks. No? Well if you haven't, welcome to planet earth and please allow me to give you a quick run down.


WikiLeaks is an international new media non-profit organization that publishes submissions of otherwise unavailable documents from anonymous news sources and news leaks. Its website, launched in 2006, is run by The Sunshine Press. Within a year of its launch, the site claimed a database that had grown to more than 1.2 million documents. The organisation has described itself as having been founded by Chinese dissidents, as well as journalists, mathematicians, and start-up company technologists from the United States, Taiwan, Europe, Australia, and South Africa. Julian Assange, an Australian Internet activist, is generally described as its director.


Got it? Good. Allow me to proceed and breakdown what I think this organisation is doing and my verdict.


Like all good things, the freedom and liberties that we enjoy come at a cost. A heavy cost, and, sometimes peoples' lives are lost in order to protect these freedoms. It's a dirty and gruesome business but someone's got to do it otherwise we would all be living in perilous world. 


Do you really want to know how what your government gets up to in order to secure your freedoms and liberties? Just like sausages, I really don't want to know as long as they're not detrimental to my health, I do enjoy a good old sausage. It's not on my list of priorities to find out how my sausages are made. I'll leave that job to the food standards authority. 


Politicians, diplomats, secret service agents, spys of all different nationalities are in a way the food standards authority. They make sure that the general public is safe from harm. The work they do sometimes involves underhanded techniques to achieve a certain level of results and I really don't want to know what that is. 


Take for example, how would you feel if all the documents involving your trips to your gynaecologist or the prostate doctor were published for the whole world to see? Think about it for a moment... You would feel embarrased not to mention violated.


There are certain things that are best left between two individual entities. When two diplomats meet to discuss the state of affairs between their respective countries, I really don't want to know what that conversation entails or what they really think of each other or whatever other gossip they get up to 'behind closed doors'.


They say 'freedom of information'. Well, freedom of information also comes with certain degree of maturity and responsibilty. Think about what you aim to achieve when you publish certain bits of information into the public domain. That's why any good journalist worth their salt will tell you that this indiscrimate way of unleashing this type of information could put certain peoples' lives at risk. I totally agree, although, it's worth noting that all democratically elected governments should be held accountable for their actions domestically and internationally.


With that said, if any wrong doing has occured, say, rendition flights, guantanamo bay torture techiniques or any other forms of human degradation have taken place, we, the voting populace deserve to know what these officials are up to. But it should be done in a responsible manner to bring these guys to book.


I tell you what,  all the conversations and documents between Julian Assange and his lawyer involving this sexual harrasment case should be published for all to see: word for word. I wonder how he would feel about that... 

What do you guys think?  Pin It

Winter Biking on Hanbury Street... Spitalfields, London.

It doesn't matter how bitterly cold it is. The best and cheapest way to get around this part of London especially at this time of year (it's the last weekend before Christmas) is by two wheels.

Londoners, can I get an amen to that?


Have you guys done all your last minute Christmas shopping yet?Pin It

Curious George...Sommerset House, London.

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Behind the scenes at Pierre Garroudi studio, London Bridge.

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London's Market Traders.

Brick Lane vintage market.

Portobello Road fruit trader.

Market traders, especially the ones that work the weekend markets across London's favourite tourist hotspots, have that swag that cannot be explained but you can tell when you see it.Pin It