I enjoyed hanging out in London so much for a few days last week that I can't tell you why I ever moved away. I'm not sure which bit was best, catching up with friends, seeing some shows, or eating/drinking our fill at HIX (yep, their vegetarian menu is tasty too). If fellow diner, John Cooper Clarke, fancied being left alone, then —oops— he picked the wrong night.

Featuring the fractured bodies of cubist guitars, the latest exhibition from Ricky Swallow at Stuart Shave/Modern Art, struck a quiet, thoughtful tone. Resembling painted maquettes of cardboard and tape, each work is precision cast in bronze. The new space swaps the concrete-cool modernity of Eastcastle St for the ornate charm of the Old World... and carrying buggies up two flights of stairs.

Then, like a true tourist, I finally found time to visit the hushed rotunda of Notre Dame de France on the otherwise bustling Leicester Place. I'd always planned to see Jean Cocteau's 1959 frescoes, and they were great, but Robert de Chaunac's alter tapestry was a revelation proper.

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