London Calling - Part the Second

I did so not want this piece to be a travelogue. I fear it is plodding in that direction. At last call, I was safely ensconced in the Temptress' boudoir. For those of you who think this was a junket, I did have work to do. I shall not bore you with the tedium of my medium. The Temptress was busy with unfinished business, so I decided to have an emotional reunion with the Burmese Belle. BB and I were at school when were about a dozen years each. Remarkably, we've kept in touch ever since. BB has had an interesting graph, and is now on her second marriage. She is fatally (read very fatally) attracted to gay men and has reason to believe that all was not kosher with her choice of husbands. We met with much unmixed emotion. She told me I was looking good, that the years had been kind to me. I tried to resist with the usual half mumbled platitudes, but eventually ended up agreeing with her. Why lie ? After a brief session alone, we rushed off to a french restaurant for dinner with Husband the Second. He is an utterly charming kind of guy. If they ever bring out a gay version I shall be first in the queue. I'm hopeless with french food, but the moules looked great. And they were.

The next day was spent in a bee line for the Armani shop on New Bond Street. For the unititated, I am an Armani junkie. I bought my first piece (we don't call them clothes) when I was 25 and had it not burnt to smithereens in a fire in Nathiagali I would still have had it. Since then, I have decided that I will not invest in tons of junk. Just one piece of GA every six months. That sounds fair, doesn't it ? Alas, fate had something else in store for me. Everything at the store was in a regular (a.ka. midget) size. I tried pretending that the cuffs were not too short and that a hint of ankle could just be the Next Trendy Thing. Even my half closed (clothed?) eyes couldn't fool me. This called for action. The store manager was summoned. "You do know that to be an Armani catwalk model one has to be over six feet tall ?" "Si, si." "Then what are these short clothes doing all over the place. Have you chopped the ends off ? " Eventually it was agreed that I could email the great man and let him know that although his designs were divinely delicious, his sizes were un peu screwy. For those of you who may need to take similar action, complaints should go to giorgio.armani@armani.com.

My other enduring memory of London is food. I have eaten enough calories in the last week to sustain a small sub Saharan republic. I've written up Oxo already. I was taken to Chutney Mary by BB- this is an anglo-indian restaurant in Knightsbridge, which was, frankly, a tad disappointing. The lines between fusion and con-fusion are fuzzy at the best of times. The highlight of the trip was Yuacha (sp?) a funky chinese dim sum place in Soho, which was done up in shades of cobalt and pink. Yes. The food was to sublime. Yes. It is possible to go all orgasmic about dim sum. There was also Thai food. Although the Temptress insisted I was getting the once-over from a man across the restaurant. I had duck in cherry sauce at Balans, which was also divine. I have sworn never to eat again. But tomorrow, Miz Scarlett, is another day.