The Foodie

“How is it I know more about this place than you do, and I’m the one who’s been in Bangaluru…

You’d never really know it until you’re up there, high above everything, but London sprawls in a way that shocks you, there is a shapeless morbidity to our capital.

Squally showers and insistent rain beat down a tattoo on the pavement beneath our feet. The glistening slabs, uniform in their grey municipality, are punctuated only by a discarded fried chicken wing here, a sad single shoe there.

Squally showers and insistent rain beat down a tattoo on the pavement beneath our feet. The glistening slabs, uniform in their grey municipality, are punctuated only by a discarded fried chicken wing here, a sad single shoe there.

With Carnevale in full swing the Arb’s domestic doyenne, Angela Clutton, prepares for the arrival of Shrove Tuesday with a…