“I am your knight in shining armour.”

He mumbled sheepishly from behind a grizzly beard. Cigarette at hand. It wasn’t exactly the image I’d had in mind, but I was grateful nonetheless. He was to rescue me from the peril of my inconsistent Fiat Uno that had broken down outside his coffee shop.

“We’ll get there one day. The real love generation…it’s a journey man.”

For full effect, read with a rusta-accent. The heavily dread-locked man leant against the iron gate at Hope Street Market. His words well-suited for the street name – like an anthem of sorts. Hope Street Market

“…if he falls, kick his balls all the way to Santa Claus…”

The two little girls sat cross-legged on the window sill, wiping ice-cream from their faces as they sang. It was innocently beautiful.

Innocently beautiful. I wasn’t sure that was acceptable English…so I Googled it and came across this snippet from the Little Rascals. Bless.

Childhood is so wonderful.