DDD Depart Dalston Day - 23/9/11

To complete the Dalston Circle, Mr GW Bush did his duty after helping us move in 4 years earlier he trotted over at breakfast time and held the vanguard.

Two Bruised Turtles Depart Finsbury Park

Two turtles set off from finsbury park, bandaged and rib bruised from crack fiend assault in Stoke Newington which rudely disturbed the final leaving do. The Viking sprang into action as the dastardly instigator swiped Yann's phone. But we gave chase, following him down a dark alley. I tripped and comedy phlittered across the road scraping my poor belly and ribs. Yann bravely persisted in his chase sprinting after the fiend on his bicycle, unluckily (or perhaps luckily) he didn't catch up with him. Having half an hour earlier surrendered the other Iphone to Higgers we became abruptly Iphone-less, freed from the final shackles of modern London Life and the Great I need an Apple Conspiracy.

So after finally depositing our three thousand vacuum packs & boxed books in attics and British barns and thoroughly heart warmed from a great send off from dear friends and family and a few special days with Miss Edie Ibbotson we went West to Heathrow.

 Each with his ten kilo turtle shell not before treating ourselves to a hangover McDonalds lunch in lovely Wood Green. And what a glorious sunset awaited us basking the glorious Heathrow Airport.  

Farewell Dalston

A flurry of leaving dos in my dirty beloved Dalston. It's time to leave and make space for the gangs of fickle Generation Yers who are swarming the streets and bars, cheekily flashing their ankles and head wraps.

Farewell to nights drifting around Kingsland exploring illicit basement bars which exist fleetingly, falling up stairs, dancing with wild lesbians of the night, crawling around the volcanic environs with Bjork, Kate Bush and green tambourines. Enough chicken sheesh and falafel for now boss but I'm already salivating for Mama Vic's secret sauce and a dish of ackee and salt fish.

Bye Bye to the BMX Boys, Superstore Bimbos and her royal highness The Queen of Dalston who will no longer cry out to me savagely as I recline in my hammock respite from the playground around me. This great city facilitates extremes of sweet and sour and it's time for an Asian exploration and kitkat break....