Navigating the cobbles of Villiers St, her desperately trying to avoid getting her heels completely stuck and silently cursing her choice of shoe while he chivalrously lent an arm for her to lean on, they arrived at what looked at first glance like any other bar along the river. Flushed pink from the walk, she realised she’d been so completely caught up in the moment that she’d forgotten there was a destination to reach. What was so special about this place? ‘You’ve never been here before?’ he said amused looking at her expression, ‘let’s go inside and you can find out why it’s worth the wait.’ Walking inside and down a narrow wooden staircase, it felt like they were entering a cave. The ceiling was curved and seemingly hewn from rock. Lit by the warm glow of candles in old chianti bottles with wax dripping dramatically down the side, small groups clustered round tiny tables talking in low animated voices. Faded newspaper clippings in frames adorned the walls and dusty wine bottles, magnums and jeroboams filled every available surface. It felt warm, inviting and completely magical.
|Bust||84 - 88||89 - 93||94 - 98||99 - 103|
|64 - 68||69 - 73||74 - 78||79 - 83|
|Hip||92 - 96||97 - 101||102 - 106||107 - 111|