Despite this being a blog that deals primarily with the miracle of 'vision' and things I 'see', even eyes must eat, so I feel compelled to write about what might possibly be the best sandwich shop ever.
Actually, forget that: it is the best sandwich shop.
Located just off the bottom of Wardour street in London's Soho is Il Panino, a little Italian sandwich shop run by REAL ITALIANS, (and everone knows those guys love their food). They sell a whole load of stuff like coffee and tiramisu, but it's the Ciabatta Panini which I'm buggin' out about. They are, quite simply, outstanding.
It never ceases to amaze me how people manage to stuff up the sublime invention that is the sandwich. Lets face it, it's a pretty simple equation: two slices of bread, loads of top stuff, er, that's it (and no, you can keep your 'club' sandwiches - I don't want to be part of any club that promotes bread as an extra filling) Indeed, most sandwiches taste more of the clock on the wall that the poor unfortunate who was making them happened to be staring at while transferring a pinch of waterey iceberg lettuce from a tupperware box than actual food.
But these guys have got it right. Simple, top ingredients, generously applied, and very reasonable too. £3.50 for almost more sandwich than you can physically eat. They're all (I presume) pretty good, but I might particularly recommend the special: salami, roasted peppers and some amazing cheese that actually makes your gums tingle.. so I suppose it's the cocaine of the cheese world.
Anyway, if anyone other than me and Gridrunner read this, I reccommend that you give it a try if you're ever in Soho and feeling hungry.. And tell 'em the Eye sent you.
It was as I was wandering toward the bus stop on Denmark Hill that I spotted this character.. one of the more 'unique' denizens of Camberwell- 'Rat Guy' . Rat Guy's thing is to wander round Camberwell with rodents slithering around his neck like a kind of living scarf. One has to admire an individual who can dodge the near unilateral contempt for people who wear fur clothing by actually sporting living things. "..The fuck you lookin' at?" the white one is saying. Either that or "Stop the world I wanna get off (this guy)".
Today for tea, the eye visited the local Chinese supermarket on Denmark Hill in Camberwell. I could spend hours (well, probably more like 20 minutes) trawling through the aisles, staring in open mouthed wonder at the wonders on display. Today I treated myself to a bevvy of instant noodles (just which is the best brand though?) some bargain chilli sardines, and a bundle of incense at the bargain price of £1.99 for 50 or so. A staple in the weekly grocery shop for any discerning flaneur.
I managed to resist the temptation of the 'Sliming' powder though; Ectoplasm being a very real fear of mine.
Today was an afternoon of coincidences. Whilst perusing the wares of Uniqlo on Oxford Street, The Eye encountered an acquaintance from the past.. A girl I had studied with at university. Initially I couldn't quite work out if it was indeed her, and I had left and walked for a good five minutes before finally deciding to return and see if it was indeed she (her name's Lucy by the way, though I can't for the life of me remember her second name).
It was. (But it took further surveillance on my part to pick up the courage to ask, and she was initially I fear completely at a loss to whom I was) Anyway. We 'shot the breeze' for a while, discussing old acquaintances and it turns out she's headed for China and then um, Tibet I think; which accounted for the bag o' jumpers she'd just purchased. Ah well. Swopped numbers and arranged to meet up for a drink.
Scarce had I turned off Oxford Street after this, when whom should I run into but.. er, my mum and dad? what are you guys doing in Soho? Actually, I knew they were in town, but still. Anyway, seeing them again tommorrow.
Well, I need work.. soon. Freelancing in London is a competitive affair, and I dwell under few illusions that there are far more people out there than there are jobs.
Often it's a case of proving yourself, and if you can get a foot in the door and demonstrate yourself capable of getting the job done then there's a very chance you'll get invited back. But it can also be pretty unforgiving at times. Ah well. Up and at 'em.