Saffron Hill

Oh darn tootin' amma blame the weather. It's to do with Europe being off the English coast or something like that, I blame the bureaucrats in Brussels. Or the CCP. Or The Russians. Or the Democratic Party. Or maybe all of them, since they all meet secretly in Mae's Cafe, Brighton, every other month on the third Saturday for a full English and to hatch a new round of conspiracies. They speak in Really Bad International English, which Mae speaks fluently, and she passes on what she can make out of their chatter to me and the editor of the Financial Times, who ignores it and then wonders why he has the feeling he's already heard about whatever it is when it happens. She used to tell the editor of The Economist, but they wrote about what the leaders should be doing. Because The Economist can run the world so much better than anyone else except the BBC. Mae never tells the BBC because she knows the BBC is the propaganda branch of the Security Services when it isn't being the media wing of Right-Thinking-People, or perhaps Left-Thinking-People, or maybe People-With-Their-Heads-Up-Their....

Moving along...

This is looking down Saffron Hill, near Farringdon, and it took me a while to see that it's actually a good picture.