In the tradition of mardi gras, the English eat pancakes on Shrove Tuesday and Ben found us a place in west London. We went to the Riding House Bistro on the Great Titchfield Street (everything, absolutely everything here, seems to have one of those tweedy names)
Ben's new orange sweater matched the decor (a case of taking advantage of the natural cover)
Really big lampshades
I love these old toilets (though this one is, I suspect, new designer), and every time I see one I think of that incredible restaurant scene in the Godfather when Al Pacino excuses himself from the table and gets the gun hidden behind the tank.
This may be the best picture I took last night (the sharpest anyway), probably because it was the only place with alot of light. I stopped here on my way to the bistro to look at my map. Any sense of cardinal direction is hopeless in London, streets wind this way and that, and they change names all the time.
Depanneurs are alike the world over.
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