Through taking my time walking in the local environs of the beautific Shepherds Bush, i have spotted two more greasy spoons to review. Life since I left work is such a bind – now I have to have two more hangovers in my remaining six days here. I need hangovers of sufficient magnitude that I can stomach the biggest breakfast each cafe has to offer. I need a furry tongue to gauge the slipperyness of the fried egg. I need an uncertain stomach to judge the settling effect of the chips. The thing is, there’s no sense of mischief in having hangovers on your own time. They were somehow far more satisfying when they were on someone else’s time…