We spent the first Saturday of April last year in much the way an English family might have. At the market in Notting Hill in the morning and at a football match in the afternoon.
I wish you could smell what this guy was cooking for the crowds at Notting Hill.
Got my coffee and a mural of Samuel Beckitt (or so I'm told).
The crowd started out chanting an expectant "Come on Fulham" and by the second half of a 3-1 drumming to Sunderland it was more of a whining "Come on Fulham." It was cold and rainy, and we were loving it.
Didn't want to leave.
We spent that Saturday night popping up out of tube-stops and walking around London. By now we felt like locals. But then again, they probably don't take pictures in the underground. We loved how the exit signs said "Way Out" and the voice over when the doors opened said "Mind the Gap." We were tempted to buy tourist-trap underwear with that printed on the butt, but didn't.
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