Montrose Terrace

When you wake up on Sunday morning and decide that you'd rather wake up on Sunday afternoon, but nonetheless your flatmate has woken up, it's a good idea to perform the magic of suggestion. Try to transmit the thoughts `croissant aux amandes' and `pain au chocolat' without actually uttering the word `Barringer's', and then go back to bed for a bit. If you're lucky, or just very good at it, you will wake up a few hours' later to discover that the relevant items of patisserie have arrived. Possibly, the coffee will be ready.

Montrose Terrace is also the only place in the world where you can get Semi-Permanent Make-Up. Don't ask me how, but this stuff lasts five years. There's a gang of sixteen-year-old young ladies who wear white stilettos and very little else. They lurk in the shadows waiting for any foolish sixteen-year-old girl who eats croissants and wears boots and talks about things other than boyfriends and refuses to pretend to be utterly vapid to come walking by all by herself. Then they jump out and grab her and superglue white stilettos to her feet and handcuff her to a chair in the Face-it Beauty Salon. When she eventually emerges, she has no choice but to spend the next five years looking like a young lady. Eventually she starts acting like one. If you think this sounds uncannily like the plot to Flash McVeigh, then you're right, that's exactly what it is: uncanny.

Down to London Road.

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