One of the things that I miss about England is the way we hide behind words. That’s not to say that I don’t like the American way of being direct, of having no social fear about asking how much? with who? or why?, but that there can be a beauty in euphemism.
I passed this sign on a pub on London’s Shoreditch High Street, on the way to the epic six hour lunch on the Shoreditch House roof deck that I, Belgian Waffling, Mrs Trefusis, MTFF and India Knight indulged in back at the beginning of May.