A view to kill

Iemand het die volgende uittreksel uit Rupert Everett se outobiografie vir een van my kollegas gestuur. As ek 180 grade op my kantoorstoel spin, kyk ek vas in die pub waarna hy verwys (gevolglik probeer ek eerder 360 grade spin):

"There is a grim area of London called Swiss Cottage. In the late seventies it was a kind of dividing line between the centre of the city and its surrounding suburbs. Now it is more or less part of the West End . Its high street is the Finchley Road , which at some point became the main exit from the city to the north, and so Swiss Cottage was cut in half by two dangerous torrents of traffic that left a marooned island in the middle, which was occupied by the Swiss Cottage pub, a rambling mock chalet complete with window boxes, gingham curtains, oak beams and fake chimneys, a gloomy landmark for Londoners returning from the weekend. Its twinkly lamps of fake cheer rise above the flow of tail lights on a Sunday night, and remind one of empty flats, lonely old ladies and imminent death."