Pomp and Circumstance

The world's great cities are more than just a clump of skyscrapers or a tangle of highways; they are more than just a renown art gallery or a spacious park. The true World Cities tower above their peers, not in the height of their buildings or the breadth of their suburbs, but in that intangible energy that pulsates around every street corner and through every alley. Only a few can rise to such lofty heights. The granite canyons of Manhattan, the glittering skyline of Hong Kong Island, the timeless charm of London City.

And with that, let's stow the contrived eloquence and get back to the gutter journalism for which this publication is famed. In case you missed it in the elaborate opening statement, this blog is about London.

Camden Lock was once an important park of London's canal system; now it's an important part of the standard tourist circuit. But hey, some things are popular for a reason. With it's buzzing market and picturesque waterways, Camden Town is the perfect spot for a Sunday afternoon stroll.

Time for an Argentinian steak sandwich. The best thing to come out of Argentina since... uhm... the Argentinian steak sandwich ordered by the dude in front of me in the queue.

Here they sell brownies by the Pound. Which, for those of us used a banana currency like the greenback is a bit steep.

This dude must haved missed the last food truck convoy to Austin. Which is a good thing, because even two thousand years of history doesn't protect you from the grande scourge of the Green Mermaid.

Despite the encroaching luxury condos, the waterway still maintains its charm. No doubt the charm would be even more charming if one was enjoying it from the balcony of said condo, with your friendly family butler just around the corner with your favorite malt.

The walk from Camden Lock to Little Venice is a pleasant one, especially on a rare sunny London day.

Now there's an estate fit for royalty. Judging by the lack of paparazzi one assumes it must have fallen into the hands of commoners. Or more likely, into the hands of the new royalty - a hedge fund manager.

Probably not the best place to lie low whilst waiting for the bonus tax to blow over.

Remarkable, there's actually a spring in England. A bit hard to tell when the four seasons are delineated by shades of overcast grey.

Signs of a working past. You know, back when you had to build prosperity one bolt at a time, instead of one exotic credit derivative per trading session.

Financial crisis? Property bubble? My dear chap, I've been here since the Tulip Bubble.

Little Venice has an advantage over its more famous namesake - it's not sinking.

Property prices may have crashed hard in London, but somehow I doubt these babies are in the bargin bin.

The downside to owning a house that's five centuries old is you either need to upgrade to a horse and carriage or you park on the street.

Do you really need a caption for this one?

Nothing beats wandering the quiet streets of Olde London Towne. Except reading the JoosterJournale.

Somehow this one looks a bit more aerodynamic than the one they are selling in all the gift shops.

Forget it, they're out of your league unless you're a Russian oligarch who buys Premier League teams in your spare time. Just to clarify, we're talking about these fine townhouses, not the Russian beauties who seem to make up half the population in this neighborhood.

Land of Hope and Glory. Post GFC it's more hope and less glory. Just like their cricket team.

Once this esteemed establishment trained scientists who went on to change the world. Its recent grads also changed the world; after selling out to the glitzy world of finance they brought down not just banks, but whole countries. Guess that paper on black hole theory came in handy after all.

The neighborhood around Prince Albert Hall is quintessentially London. Which in less pretentious terms means the buildings are old and look kind of cool.

Here is a good place to go study if you are tired of having regular meals and a roof over your head.

The Barclay's corporate garage just isn't what it used to be. Public outcry has seen the Jetstream replaced with forms of transportation more amenable to the hurling of rotten projectiles by the Angry Masses (tm).

Is it just me, or are these photos of old buildings getting old real fast? Hur hur hur.

Another place to go to practice your Russian. Or Mandarin.

Here's a novel idea. Take a generic chocolate and slap a Harrods logo on it and ka-ching, instant profits. I think there's a job for you out at Canary Wharf.

Speaking of Canary Wharf, that's the next stop. Which is why this blog ends - the desolation of a wind swept artificial island of bankers just doesn't make good copy. Unless they're raking in a juicy bonuses, in which case the News of the World is all over it already.