I spent the most part of the past weekend in Londres. I am merely exaggerating with the entry’s title, but it has been 4 years since our last big day out and the Sheepwoman felt it was time we did it again. Many things have changed since, three have stopped and only two remaining. And four got hitched last summer, two of whom are whizzing off to a bunch of islands north of Madagascar this coming weekend.

I arrived as early as I could as I wanted to enjoy a quiet breakfast of nasi lemak at my favourite spot on Queensborough Terrace (Sussex Gardens no more). Quiet it ain’t and it wasn’t till the Sheepwoman cometh that she told me to turn round, only to see our erstwhile Prime Minister having his brekkie (probably having what i was having), together with two arrays of hangers-on around him. Quiet or not, I had the chance of enjoying a SDARian breakfast of karipap cicah sambal together with my second glass of teh tarik, whilst the Sheepwoman enlightened me in the topic of Keynesian economics over her plate of nasi lemak.

After a sojourn to the location for Closer (and me yielding to Dostoyevsky, albeit in comic, i mean, graphic novel form), we met up with the two Zees. in true hobbit fashion, we had our elevenses at a kaitenzushi establishment manned not by Matsumoto and Kobayashi, but by Hussain and el-Barghouti. Try the どら焼き [dorayaki], and you’ll see Doraemon was spot on. O-ishii!

We rendezvous-ed with Mr and Mrs Seventudjoh outside a churros eaterie and we went to to Hampstead for dessert. La Crêperie de Hampstead is a well-known joint that possibly serves the best crêpes this side of Paris. The crêperie was a stall parked outside a pub on Hampstead High Street and was manned by a staff of two. Your order is made on the spot, which explains the long queue which was well worth the wait! As the weather was glorious, we unanimously decide that sitting in a blackened room watching a film was a waste of a great Saturday and checked out the little stores nearby.

Before dinner, we stopped at a newly built mall at White City which reminded me of home in many ways (read: The Curve and OU new wing). I really think London doesn’t need a mall, but hey, if we got to check out the hot female floor staff at Hollister (no wonder it felt like A&F, as it is A&F!), I suppose ok lah.

Number 1 Café at North Kensington is a gem of a place, highly recommended by the Seventudjohs. We were joined by the Lost Codgers (also retired) and it was great to hear him do the salesman’s pitch on all things electronic (my SDHC is on its way, dude!). The cuisine was of both Malaysian and Thai, and the whipping tiger (sizzling beef on spinach) and deep fried (?)garoupa with chilli was my favourite, washed down with Thai fragrant iced tea. All can eat one, as the owner’s a Malay chap. The only snag about this place is that you may need to walk a little if you are not driving (nearest tube is Ladbroke Grove).

The day was ended on a high on James Street, shisha-ing in the cold outside (damn you, Café Rouge!).

As i laid down on my bed in my cheap (patut lah, can hear Central line one!) hotel room, I did feel knackered and nodded off somewhat immediately. Clichéd as this sounds, I felt relieved that we are still the same people despite the changes, as I picked up the largest kicap Habhal bottle available on Gerrard Street before heading off home.