On my way to the library to hand back the two last books in the Roman series by Simon Scarrow; I couldn't help but laugh as I turned off Fulham Road. Through the large windows of the building I could see two middle aged men gazing at paintings of nude women which covered all four of the room's walls. Both men were carrying half full glases of dark red wine, casting superior glances around the room; one appeared to be the artist, the other a potential customer. The whole scene was so absurd though, as if from another planet, allthough I guess Chelsea is, in a sense, just that.To all you Americans out there: Today I had tea for breakfast, and crumpets for tea - soon I'll be the living personification of your British stereotype...
