“Excuse me Sir, you have a very lucky face”, said the Indian man to me.

“Your face is very lucky, you will have very good fortune for the next few months, you will have to work hard but you will get a lot of money”.

I wasn’t sure why he had chosen me as I was feeling far from lucky. We had come into London to see a photography exhibition but I’d picked a combination of the wrong day and the wrong venue to visit on so that hadn’t worked.

I’d picked somewhere to eat which didn’t live up to it’s promise so we abandoned that idea in favour of one K had visited recently. That turned out to be closed for lunch.

The one around the corner where we did eat was pretentious and rather like eating in an hotel lobby. “Did you see the painting of the woman behind the bar ?”, K asked. I had. It looked rather like a soft porn photography from the 1970s painted in acrylic paint.

Apparently the most notable feature of it wasn’t the silk draped over her eyes but the lack of care and attention to a certain part of her anatomy.

The food was nice but not amazing. Asparagus salad with quail’s eggs and crab salad followed by chicken tortellini and pan fried red mullet on black eyed beans and broad beans. The service was attentive. The problem was there just was no ambiance.

As we left, in a flurry of goodbyes from the staff I had to look. The only problem was the woman serving behind the bar. What if the picture was of her ?

I decided in the end to defer to chivalry and not stop and stare just in case she was the one who was not being attentive there.

After such an eventful day I was surprised to be the only person in Bond Street to have a lucky face. I thanked him before the conversation turned to me sharing some of my current wealth with him to secure the secret of how I could unlock future wealth and we headed home.

The Tube in summer isn’t the best place to be. Not on the Piccadilly line crushed into a carriage with a small woman with a wheely case trying to get onto the remaining few square inches of space on the train while a large Russian man is lifting his case above your head as he pushes himself and the wheely case lady onto the train to the sound of the driver shouting, “STAND CLEAR OF THE DOORS NOW”.

So, I’m taking my lucky face outside this evening to sit and watch some stars, burn some logs and enjoy not being in London for a while.