Not really. But I am in Notting Hill and I have to say, if I could afford to live here, or if I thought I was cool enough, I'd definitely live in Notting Hill.
You see, if you walk down Portobello road, you'll see some of the coolest people wearing the trendiest clothes and giving the least shits about anyone. It really is rather funky and not like bits of London where people are trying very hard to be noticed.
Anyway, so I'm here staying with Suzy and Reece, friends from Wellington. I used to go to uni with Suzy and met Reece in Sydney when they lived there. They're staying in Reece's boss's apartment who must be something of a very wealthy man, seeing as he owns his own construction/property business. His wife is an art dealer, judging by the Damien Hirst painting just lying there on the floor.
That's right, a Damien Hirst painting. Probably the modern day equivalent of Andy Warhol. Incredibly pretensious and rather famous. He's also the weirdo artist who put a tiger shark in a formaldehyde tank and called it "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living". Make up your own minds, I guess.
So yeah, had a stroll around this unbearably cool part of town with it's funky markets and stalls. Checked out a store to see what was inside and nearly walked away with a new leather jacket. The guy in there kept going to his calculator and punching in some numbers and then giving me a reduced total (his English wasn't great). I suspect he was a genius level mathematician and not actually giving me discounts but punching in unrelated numbers to give me a new, lower total.
I barely walked out of there with my wallet intact. Lucky for me, I am a creature of impressive willpower and I went to subway and ordered a steak and cheese foot long sub instead. Phew.
