Saturday, April 26, 2003
posted 12:48 PM
IT'S A GOOD THING I'M NOT ALLERGIC TO BRANDING

Otherwise, I'd be rough shape, here in Seven Dials, smack in the middle of Covent Garden hyper-branded retail-fever. On the other hand, though, it wouldn't be Tommy Hilfiger I'd have to worry about; more Duffer of St. George and Offspring.

I hadn't realised that the end-point of Cayce's hypothetical process of sneaker-evolution, starting with observation of the hooves of the Camden Children's Crusade, would be these few blocks of Neal Street (around the corner, it turns out, from our heroine's Pilates studio).

And around another couple of corners from New Oxford Street and Forbidden Planet, where I did the very last PR signing-session today.

It's a wrap.

DUBLIN

was as perfect a place to wait out soul-delay as I'd expected it would be.

It even has its own branch of Waggamama, the world's coolest noodle restaurant.

Though even all that fine soba wasn't enough to keep me from winding up where I always eventually do if I'm jetlagged in Dublin: peering throughy the fence at the tiny, deeply strange Huguenot Cemetary on Merrion Row, c. 1693. Grave-markers like Shaker tables carved from stone. Bluebells growing up through boxwood. Litter-spillage from the Merrion Row bus-stop: tall tinnies of Guiness and Linden Village Strong Cider. Deja-vu of soul-delay.

Deja.

Vu.



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