Lol Q: What's invisible and smells of worms? A: Bird farts

What To Write So...what to write...as the saying goes, so many blogs, so little time. Why should anyone dedicate their valuable spare moments to reading this when they could be surfing the web for something with the potential to be far more exciting such as 101 flavours of porn or how to remove a kidney with a broken milk bottle and a squirt of fairy liquid.......What makes me so special to think that anyone outside of my immediate family would be interested in the day to day goings on in my #life and the corridors of Babylon also known as London Soho? Well, hopefully a large G&T, mainly G, a barrel of M&S mini rolls and the desire to appear busy at my desk whilst actually doing anything but work will inspire me, so lets see where we end up. From my desk/dining table/potential bomb shelter peering through a rather grubby window across the roof tops of Greek Street, looking down Old Compton towards Ed's Diner one way, G.A.Y. and American Retro the other I can see the throngs of 'individuals' clad in their aptly named Birkenstocks, Burks-in-socks, and those annoyingly indecisive half-trousers, not quite short enough to be shorts and yet unable to stretch to the ankles ruling them out of the trouser gang. These packs of marketing managers, advertising execs and PA's jostle with bronzed gymbox boys clambering for a front row seat outside Balans, Bar Soho and Cafe 'corporate' Boheme with it's copper bar and similarly-coloured enticingly cute waiters. Unsurprisingly Compton's is full and spilling out onto the street the usual mix of men, boys and indefinables. The barefooted, orange clad Krishna with his desperately eager smile and dead eyes finger-tings his way past groups of Matthew's, Luke's, Jennifer's and wannabies, greeted with a assortment of nervous smiles, blankness and the odd drunken glare. I can almost smell the stale beer, Spanish sweat and hot rubber - thank god for aircon and the humming Argos 'extra' fan I have aiming every 8 seconds at my back. Since calling myself a 'Westminster Resident' and more specifically the temporary custodian of a tiny studio in the eves of what was once a fine old building I have become fascinated by the street's history as well as the surrounding area. Poor old god fearing Henry Compton would be joining the masses on a Friday night and vomiting outside Kettners if he could see what's become of his namesake street. His church which once proudly stood near the crossing of Greek and Compton now lost to overpriced hamburgers and lumpy milkshakes. God only knows what the church founders of what is now a Walkabout would make of it all. Being a country boy of origin and whilst still maintaining a deceptively named 'country house' somewhere in the Cambridgeshire / Suffolk mud I have always lusted after the idea of living centrally. I dabbled in a past #life but I don't think East London really counts as being in the thick of it. Lets see how this new one pans out... Any case I digress, what is this blog going to become? A history lesson? PLEASE NO! so, the gentile ramblings of a guy watching Soho-World go by.........sounds about right..........oh well...............until the next time...............

Grace Nichols The way the red sun surrenders It’s wholeness to curving ocean Bit by bit. The way curving ocean Gives birth to the birth of stars In the growing darkness Wearing everything in its path To cosmic smoothness . The impulse of stones rolling Towards their own roundness. The unexpected comets of flying fish. And, Forest, Great-Breathing-Spirit, Rooting to the very end For the #life of this planet. Grace Nichols