Towpath Cafe

Towpath Cafe

Queuing on the side of water made me remember my time at Porto Final.  Thankfully, things at Tow Path Cafe were not as tight as in the aforementioned case.  The drop off the side was not as dramatic so although a lapse in balance would 

Bab Mansour

Bab Mansour

Bab Mansour promised to be a quieter (and more relaxing) meal.  At least on account of not many people being around for Saturday lunch. Or perhaps things were more subdued just because August is the quiet period for eating out in London.  Hence part of 

Yurt Cafe

Yurt Cafe

Sometimes, I idly wonder what it would be like to be a nomad, living in a yurt. To be constantly on the move.  Having a camel/horse/other smelly mode of transport.  Sleeping in a different place every night. Then I remember what backpacking around Europe during 

Fabrique

Fabrique

Anticipation breeds expectation. Expectation leads to hope. Hope (in my case) often ends up being unrequited. In the days leading up to a loosening in dining restrictions, I could hardly contain my excitement.  Seems like half of London couldn’t either.  See below crowd.  This was