Last night, in the South Ken tube station, I saw a man dressed head to toe in salmon. No, not dressed as a salmon -- which could be explained by the science museums nearby -- but in salmon colours. Not just one single shade, like a pantsuit, but in various pieces of clothing different shades of salmon. He wasn't eccentric looking. He looked quite normal. Young. Handsome. Affluent. Not unlike any man you'd expect to see running about in a Barbour jacket or bulking knit sweater in South Kensington. Except that it was head to toe salmon. It might have been a uniform of some sort. He may have been rushing off to a job in a beauty salon. It's just that they appeared to be normal, well-made clothes. In salmon.
I don't know why it's stuck in my brain. And I think it may have been the reason I craved a bagel with smoked salmon this morning.
Off to Barcelona this weekend with Helen and Craig. I've never been. Not even to Spain. I meant to go years ago, but was always waiting for Greg or someone to come along, but the opportunity arose to stay in a 5-star hotel for cheap and I jumped on it. I'm looking forward to a weekend of tapas, and Gaudi, and room service.
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