London

There I was, in London last weekend with Ulco when all of a sudden we were swept over by a tsunami of Santa’s. It was a storm of red and white fur, black boots and more ho-ho-ho’s than should be legal and I was at once terrified, stunned and amazed. Obviously, like television and marriage, Santa has just stepped right into the new millennium. He has a new attitude, at times a new gender and an apparent new interest in leather and other assorted fetishes. There were tall Santas, short Santas, young, old, fat and skinny Santas, he Santas, she Santas and I would even put myself out there on that limb far enough to say there were some confused Santas. Santas in furry red and white cowboy hats. Santas in black leather harnesses and red rubber shorts. Bald and boobified Santas. Santas in assorted races and far away places all converging on the Strand, just a few pigeon steps away from Trafalgar Square.

London is a magical place at Christmas… The lights, the carolers, the massive crowds that make it impossible to get inside any decent store and everything worth buying is already sold-out. A few minutes on Oxford street on Saturday afternoon and my body was screaming for total sensory deprivation. It was just at that moment that Ulco and I happened upon a tiny little store with a café and immediately ducked in for some culture, education and coffee and cake. Coffee, Cake and Kink is a great little place for sitting back, relaxing and getting tips on the latest bondage and tickling techniques known to man, woman or Santa. The main floor is a little bookshop with a tiny little gallery called the “loo-vre”, which you will find in the, you guessed it, loo. It was a bit odd leaning over a toilet and scrub brush to take in the works of the featured artist, but I believe that one must experience everything at least once and so there I was, checking yet another “to-do” topic off my long and distinguished list. Once one is finished browsing the newest titles, checking out the hand-cuffs and admiring the art, it is time to head downstairs where one can have all sorts of yummy coffees and cakes with a fine view of the glass toys… Maybe it is just me… I know glass toys are all the rage today but they scare me. There are just some things that should not be made of glass. Call me old fashioned, call me a bore, call me a prude, but it just doesn’t feel right to me…