every once in a while...

since i got here i've been cruising the markets and high streets looking around for a new jacket. my beloved Safety Trench (think Linus' Safety Blanket in Peanuts) sits packed into a suitcase under my old bed in Canberra - a last-minute executive decision leaving it behind as too old, ratty, threadbare and more importantly; thin to cope with the cold here - and so i've been trying to find something nice to take its place.

we've shopped high, we've shopped low, from Brixton to Beckenham, Camden to Croydon, the haute couture of Knightsbridge to the bright lights and crowds of Mayfair. yesterday i was in a shit of a mood and went for another wander up Regent St in the evening. evening here, now, starts at about 4PM - it's well and truly night by 5 and i can see this getting even more extreme. walking outside at midday will see the sun low, low in the sky to the south, not to rise higher until deep into the new year. i had a nice time walking the streets on my own, ducking and darting trough the throngs of friday-evening shoppers. today i dragged Lou back in because, godsdammit i'm getting cold! singlet, long-sleaved tshirt, hoodie, leather jacket and i'm still feeling it.

the candidates i picked out last night were met with disinterest from my fashion consultant. eventually we wound up back at the store i'd lingered in a few weeks ago. 20% off everything in store, you say? the nicest jacket i've seen since i got here, you say? and it's gorgeous - the sort of style that i like. it's showy, but conservative, a magenta-purple lining flashing out as you move. mached up with a violet/silver/black shirt (with cuff links) and my credit card took a £244 hit today.

still, walking off towards the bus (my regular buses go up Regent Street, past Trafalgar square, then straight on towards my house) i was looking a million dollars, and i was warm.

i needed this. it's stupid - i can handle deprivation if i've got something to distract me from it all. greasy food, staying in a backpackers, in an exotic location? no worries? sitting on my hands for weeks on end while the pimps whinge to me about the job market and how hard it is and how great my CV is but right now they specifically need a Server Engineer with experience in a Bank, cleaning out the bonobo cage at the zoo and jizz-mopping at ClubX who'll take £100/day to do a demeaning job headfirst in a bucket of shit? you know, not so much

fuckit. at least i'm going to be wandering the streets in a beautiful jacket i could never have found back home, in the land of the surfies, "pre-stressed" denim and the "doesn't come in black" fucking blandness. fuck it and fuck them all - for a while i'm going to feel like i look good.

i'll get dressed up in it all and get some photos taken soon, i swear. right after i have a shave...