We fucked Pussy Riot over for a good breakfast. But at least we sported our Weekday Pussy Riot t-shirts proudly whilst doing it. If it’s any consolation (more to myself than to you, Reader), it was a nice breakfast. I’d have done many things for that macchiato, which was probably one of the best coffees to have ever wandered down my throat.
That morning there was an international demonstration – the one in London taking place outside the Russian Consulate – to show support for Pussy Riot and lack thereof for their sentence, indeed, an unfair decision. And mine and E’s intentions were good and pure; we would eat breakfast and then wonder on down to Riot Town. Are you a real riot grrrl if you can’t go crazy without a bit of food in your belly?
Anyway, the time came and it went and we were still eating scrambled eggs and croissants outside of Rustique, The Literary Café in Tufnell Park, just enjoying the moment. We acknowledged our poor ability to plan appropriately and we said no more about it.
We went shopping instead.