one perch, two worlds

You see some odd things as a smoker. Being rightly consigned to the outdoors to huff on a cancer stick gives you pause at spots where others don't tend to linger. 

Up the Arsenal!

Up the tambourine mike, Tarquin

I had the good fortune to recently be invited to dinner in Highbury, a heartbeat away from the Arsenal stadium and a world away from the £500k houses that surround it. 

This was underlined as I stood sucking on a Marlboro light on my friend's doorstep. Ahead of me, the local pub shook with the shouts of fans, screaming as their side spectacularly failed to make any headway in Europe. 

Simultaneously, to my right, a twee band rehearsed furiously (but rather less noisily) from the first floor of their flat. Plectrums, pigtails and plimsols a go-go.

It's not that the band were spectacularly posh (although I don't think even four giros would have stretched to cover the rent in N5), it was just great to see two very different Tuesday evening activities lit up and put cheek by jowl.

(apologies for the grainy, dire photography in this post)