On an assignment on Rosslyn Hill this afternoon amongst mostly familiar faces, one of whom could not contain his excitement at having breakfasted earlier with Barry Humphries, off Barry's own plates, at Barry's actual table, in Barry's house where he lives. I asked him what they'd eaten, and although he told me I am sworn to secrecy.
Later on I had to go to Lisson Green where, between downpours, they were holding a community football tournament. 5 a side, 7 watching... but only one actually levitating. Lost patience with the football, due to sudden terrible craving for scrambled eggs and toast.
London based photojournalist, interested in pretty much everything.