London has a multitude of famous old markets. Our favourite is Borough Market, near London Bridge. It’s a great place to go at any time of year for a bite to eat. You may know it from movies such as Bridgit Jones Diary. Or, sadly, from a news report last year. We went recently, on a frosty weekday morning in the middle of winter. Hardly peak time. It was packed with people. The simple presence of every single one of whom is a two fingered salute to ideological idiots. On every side.
I had a large coffee and a lemon cheesecake. Mrs P had something tasty too, although I do not remember what. The three terrorists, all shot dead by police, ate and drank nothing. They were extinct. Physically and, hopefully, spiritually. They couldn’t even get family to attend their funerals. I was feasting on delicious treats. They are rotting in the ground. My coffee tasted all the better for that fact. My coffee tasted of victory.