Living behind Harrod's was nice and super convenient. In addition to the insane cafeteria on the ground floor of the department store, there was an awesome little Russian place tucked back there and a few decent pubs.
I was especially fond of the bright yellow Lamborghini that Fayed's other son (not the one who crashed with Diana) kept parked overnight on the street. Nothing like classing up the street a bit.
Of course my place was a hideously expensive corporate flat so my employer was nudging me to get a place to live. Thankfully, they would still be paying so I didn't mind too much.
After striking out in Marylebone (mostly several year leases), I followed a friends suggestion and went out to see a few places in Fulham. I saw a handful of places scattered across the neighborhood, none of which were very appealing. They were all fairly hard to find, and I was totally wiped out.
Having taken the afternoon off, I happened by a pub and stopped for a pint. Chatting up the bartender I learned that Madonna lived nearby, before taking my second outside to enjoy the spring sunshine.
I was the only one there for the most part, outside of a couple. From the looks of it they'd been shopping all day on The King's Road and were imbibing a few pints to cool down. Their conversation grew louder and angrier as they moved inside for another round. I don't remember what they were bickering about but all of the sudden as I turned my head the woman tossed the contents of her 20oz pint glass in the guy's face. Not skipping a beat, he grabbed the glass and proceeded to pound it into her forehead.
Glass shatters, woman bleeding, beer everywhere. She runs downstairs to the loo, he takes off outside, and the barkeep and I look at each other like ... did that really just happen?
Sticking around long enough to make sure the woman was OK (some bleeding but not too bad), I got the hell out of there.
Upon my arrival at the office the next morning, I was still a bit shaken up. I recounted the storing in graphic detail to my colleagues who were floored. "Tom saw someone get glassed yesterday ... in the middle of the afternoon ... in Fulham!" Lance exclaimed to some latecomers.
I was like ... "There is a word for that? A verb? So, this sort of thing is a regular enough occurrence that it has a name? Really?"
To which his reply was, "You've never heard of anyone getting glassed before? It happens all the time, in some of the grittier pubs almost nightly. Now not usually involving a woman and not in Fulham or in the middle of the afternoon, mind you, but ..."
I was shocked by what I saw, they were shocked by where and when I saw it.
