Hot Danish chose the restaurant for our Friday evening. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘A place which only serves meat,’ he teased. He wasn’t far off. He’d chosen a bar and grill. The service, food and cocktails were all bad. The next day he admitted that the new owner had said he didn’t care about the restaurant because it attracts tourists who only visit once. The comment reminded me of a Notting Hill-based friend’s complaints about a few pubs on Portobello Road. I have since signed up to Zagat.

After dinner we went to HD’s old haunt with his friends – a club called Players. ‘We always have the best table,’ one of HD’s friends let me know. Across the room a guy danced on another table. ‘Friday isn’t the best night,’ his friend continued. ‘You get more of the out-of-towners at the weekends.’
‘Similar to London,’ I shouted to be heard above the house music. ‘We call them the “tunnels and bridges”.’

During a canal boat trip later that weekend one of HD’s friends asked where I was from. ‘Isn’t Brighton trashy?’ he asked.
‘It’s a gay magnet rather like Amsterdam,’ I responded.

HD had previously said that living abroad is good for broadening your perspective. Even though I still feel like I’m on holiday I’ve realised how patriotic I’m becoming. We all make judgements about people depending on where they come from and where they’re going, but even if you don’t call your birth town home (I call west London home) it’s like a relative – you can say something bad about it but no one else is allowed to.