Snog after dinner.

Last night, I met with my friend S. for some Chinese food at Noodle Oodle near Tottenham Court Road. We hadn’t seen each other for aaaages and it was good to exchange some gossip. She’s one of my old friends from boarding school, and being an expat, it’s nice to have these people that I’ve known since I was a teenager, because it makes my existence here feel a little less fleeting. To shake off the calories afterwards, we decided to go for a little walk around Soho. It was Friday night, the neon lights were on, everyone was out and there was this great energy around. We had a great laugh talking about the one time when S. and her friends went to a nearby gay bar to watch a very fit Asian guy doing table dancing. Then we walked past all the XXX video places, the £2 peep show, Trashy Lingerie … and S. told me she’s craving Snog. “You mean frozen yoghurt or a real snog?” I asked her. But she’s Chinese and didn’t know what the word meant! Oooopsie wooooo, thank God I was there to explain to her why it might not be the best idea to ask random drunken strangers, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Snog.” We found the shop in the end, and it was a very nice sensory experience indeed. (I had strawberries with mine.)

I’ll have to come back soon for more Snogs and more photos with my real camera; although I’m quite pleased with how this phone photo turned out.