This sushi and prosecco, devoured sitting on a cold pavement in one of the side streets by the Old Street station. That too is us.

Vik - a son of David's godparents from Belgium is in town, playing with a band as a part of this little artist-showcase-night in Hoxton Square tonight. He hasn't seen him in years, and whilst he definitely did not gain any weight, there's a new facial hair situation going on here, which is perfect, cause there's not enough skinny bearded musicians in Shoreditch!

Vik played with Tamino - seriously look him up, it's like the late nineties Sting made baby with Muse (whilst Kosheen's been looking through the window) and hired David Lynch as their tour manager. I suspect many of you might fall in love.

It's Wednesday night, both of us rushing to meet here straight from work and since we've been put on the guest list (yeah baby) for Tamino's concert later, we stuff our faces with some M&S sushi and bubbly goodness, as we hysterically discuss everything that happened in those eons since we last saw each other *(this morning).

We're a constantly situated at a confusing crossroad of deluxe and destitute. Plush and indulgent, with modest and reasonable.

Hedonism and austerity. But you know what, for us this works.

I even think it might be our significant brand and I'd never change it for anything else (even back when I had that chance on a bit of ritz and was bore to death as a result).

Imagine you're unlucky enough to win a jackpot of few millions. In that one exhilarating moment your life completely implodes as it gets stripped of all the challenges and catapults you far away from your friends, who still dread opening every letter from HMRC in case their due some forking miscalculated taxes.

Pretty soon you have interior designers and decorators coming in to build a purple en-suit playroom with a walk-in wardrobe full of miniature Moschino dresses for your ugly chihuahua called RUBY ALEXANDRA PEBBLES.

Maybe despite the majority (hence why the ticket sales will not plummet any time soon), I think life that's too comfortable will eventually suffocate you. You see, challenges (even if they're as stupid as buying that thing you 'desperately' need and not end up on 1bag of rice/per week) and uncomfortable demands force you to grow - so you can reach them and whizz past them, stronger and hungrier and ready to slay (like any good old loser-turned superhero dude, with an exception of Spiderman, who only seems to be getting younger with every next unnecessary reboot).

But how do we reconcile two seemingly opposing statements? If you're anything like us, by wearing a second hand Burberry, but still decorating it (unknowingly to my defense) with a 1st class tooth paste stain, or spending the last bits of change (WAY before the pay day) on an avocado bagel, or like passing an almost empty flask of Hugo Boss perfume (that I kid you not I've found still half full on the street) before we leave for our Wednesday concert date, so we don't smell of smoke and frizzante.

That too is us, as we were in autumn 2017. Warts and all.