So I was trying to score some new Birkenstocks at lunchtime today and ended up eating a small Ceasar salad at the bar of the Covent Garden Hotel which seemed like the best way to avoid eating Another Bloody Sandwich.
Decided to wash the salad down with a rather tasty and very refreshing martini (gin, three olives).
And to complete the impromptu drift into another life, had a natter with none other than John Stoddart who was having a mineral water while waiting to meet a picture agency chap up the other end of the bar...
