World Cup Weekend

Yesterday, Art Gurfunkel was playing at the Kenwood concert in the Hampstead heath. Although I had an option of going for picnic to the Heath behind the concert from where you can enjoy yourself, while Mr. Garfunkel serenaded you from nigh, the lure of watching Argentina play Mexico was in the end, too strong.

Started in a tiny bar on Flask lane, where the pubs have recently been prevented from allowing al fresco dining and then down at the George in Belsize Park, past Downshire Hill Road, where the unfortunate Alan Chappelow, photographer, write and recluse, who took the last pictures of George Bernard Shaw, was found murdered. Close to the Bombay Bicycle Club where we dined with Steph and down the road from the Freemason's Arms where Joe stared at the "Niche" behind the door, while Jasmine and I stared at the scantily clad women, and Bijoya looked on bemusedly.

Watching England at home will be my modus 0perandi, as jostling for a square inch of space hasn't, so far, been my favourite way of taking in a football match. Besides, as a relative neutral I might clap an Ecuador goal or two, which they say can be harmful to your health in these parts. Still think the Brazillians have enough up their sleeves to win this cup.

The images of the world cup so far...

The Nike Ad with Rooney
Less Violence, but it's there...
Its about the fans, stupid
Best of Brazil 1 and 2