A very spectacular rainbow in Muswell Hill. I kept stopping to take photos, whereas my girlfriend was totally unimpressed.
Some big, fuck-off leaves. I am increasingly amazed by leaves, and increasingly annoyed by the novels of Michael Chabon.
The fireworks at Ally Pally, as captured by the unreliable camera on my phone. Apparently there were 50,000 people there, but I didn’t say hello to all of them.
A mighty big fry-up from my favourite caff in East Finchley. All that plus tea for about four quid. The chips were undercooked and we asked for them to be done properly. I’m English and not accustomed to complaining, so I looked at the floor throughout.
Todd Carty aka Tucker in Grange Hill, Mark Fowler in Eastenders, and the strange copper who slept with his mum in The Bill. He was minding his own business having a meal and I shouldn’t have snapped him, but I couldn’t resist.
My book, alongside Barack Obama. We go back a long way, me and Barry. Before he met me, he was going to call his book “Calypso Courtship”, but I suggested “Dreams from my Father”.