You can find Heaven in the strangest of places. In this case, Heaven was in Columbia Road, Hackney. Or Shoreditch. Staring at a gorgeous bar girl while she worked, my oldest and dearest friend beside me, two pints of Guiness and a tonne of snow falling outside. A White Christmas for all, and for all The Mood to match. Then came the Sunday Roast, with Yorkshire Pudding the size of a hat and a gravy you can not imagine, and as we ate, the music sat happily between the joyful yuultide banter of the crowd and the cries of the flower market vendors outside, layer after layer of Right Now, and all of this had me spinning and I could feel the laughter just tumbling out of me, great waves of happy tears crashing against all that angst which had built up over the year, and my friend laughed and I laughed and the bar girl leaned over her side of the bar and raised her eyebrows at me and started laughing too, and man, this Royal Oak, this Piece of Peace, this Moment, this now, My London, not London, but My London. What a Happy London it was.
And there's so much more.