Nigh on five years ago (gracious) Blackbridge’s life began on a London street which offered much in the way of breakfast/lunchtime/snacktime culinary options. In fact, the only regret I have about the move onwards and upwards to our current home on Great Sutton Street was that we chose an area which is in comparative terms, a culinary wasteland.

That said, as anybody who has visited us recently will know, for the last year we’ve been blessed by our proximity to one of the contenders for London’s best café, the J & A. That’s a whole different post which I’ll really have to get around to one day, but right now, I’m here to talk about the other shining light in our lunchtimes - Whitecross Street Market.

Back in the proverbial, Whitecross Street was notable to me because of a rather chaotic second-hand record shop (now gone the way of every other rather chaotic second-hand record shop I used to visit), a great sushi place and the rather alarming occasion when while walking to work one morning ages ago, some local toughs threw an egg at me. They missed. Luckily for them. Ahem. Anyway, anyway, now, this has all been eclipsed by it having become one of this part of London’s finest features - you really should witness the food stalls which now populate Whitecross Street, especially on Thursday and Friday. Such choice! You can queue up for a burrito, buy a flatwhite made by the world’s best barrista, have a fine Chicken sandwich (which happens to often be the choice of my esteemed colleague Finn) or enjoy at least a dozen other exciting options. There are still blokes selling sweets, dodgy CDs and batteries too. It is great, my friends. And fortunately for us all, just slightly far enough away to avoid a daily visit, which is a darn good thing for our waistlines. Happy us. Happy us!

And talking of burritos…

Pimp my 850 grand Enzo ride.

I know it’s September now but the weather today couldn’t be more autumnal if it started hailing chestnuts, brown leaves and pumpkins while mist swirled around my office and the smell of a bonfire wafted past. I’m actually wearing a scarf. And a hat. But that’s purely an affectation - it’s lovely and warm here at Blackbridge.

My summer at least ended with a bit of bang as where I live I could enjoy the Notting Hill Carnival with the benefit of still being at home. While I sadly didn’t see any jolly ladies wearing a policeman’s helmet, I did spend some time at the Aba Shanti Sound System which caused considerable internal vibrations then passed five minutes at Good Times while Norman Jay played ‘Can You Feel It’ by the Jacksons with what can only be described as quite simply sub-human bass levels. I also saw a bloke dancing with no shirt on while wearing a horse’s head at Sancho Panza. At 1.30pm. Which was weird. My girlfriend and I decided that the two days were far better spent sitting at home listening to the passing sound systems (as can be seen below) and being gracious hosts to a variety of footsore visitors.

On Sunday night I played a ‘yacht rock’ set at a party of the boat two down from mine: Hall and Oates. POW! The Doobie Brothers. SMACK! Robert Palmer. KAZAM! ‘Crockett’s Theme’ by Jan Hammer. KABOOM! Very amusing indeed.

And I’m off to Barcelona tomorrow. Maybe there’s still some fun to be wrung out of the season yet?

Apologies for the tardiness of this post; Michael Giovanni Stephen Potter was born July 16th, at 10.55pm, a full 10 days’ late in the end. Weighing in at a frankly unnecessary 9lbs at birth, and at a whopping 56cm in length, he is officially a Giant Child. He is already past 2ft tall and onto his second crib. I’m sourcing miniature basketballs as we speak.

The little fella is brilliant, has already made his presence felt in our lives like some sort of tiny dictator, shouting orders and pressing us into service at unholy hours of the day and night, but of course we wouldn’t have it any other way. The concept of An Unbroken Night’s Sleep looms like a shining promised land in the hazy mist of nostalgia… meanwhile reality is facing down a full nappy and squalling infant at 3.35am. Strange how little you mind.

Wish I could say this summer’s excessive heat is responsible for the somnolence that has hit Blogbridge this last month but alas, our staycations have been largely washed-out. But we’ll be back.

Or maybe the month…

Priceless.

* This post is dedicated to my Australian colleague Wesley Brandli.