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It was Christmas shopping day today although there are a few technicalities to highlight:

1)    I obviously don’t celebrate Xmas
2)    I wasn’t actually going to buy anything
3)    I hate shopping
4)    I really hate shopping

So in truth I really just went to check out the shops and buzz in and around London at this time of year. It isn’t something I would normally do given my phobia of shops and tourists but as I stepped out into Oxford Street, and as if it was a script of my own writing, it started snowing! And it continued throughout the day, small flakes falling throughout the day, amongst the huge traditional decorations that are up every year.

I’m beginning to sound like some kid getting high off what has become a commercial holiday but it was nice being out there in the snow amongst bustling crowds which on a normal day I would detest.

You couldn’t be out and about in Central London at this time without visiting a toy shop and what better place than one of the biggest in the world, Hamley’s.

There, I met the King:

I then met the three bears, who were making dinner for me:

Then I had a run in with the law, which was 'bearly' surprising (groan):

So there I was taking pictures of teddy bears, as you do, and was on my way out down the escalator when I felt a hand on shoulder. I was looking down and saw some very big shoes next to me. They were also bright red.

I look up to see who it was and there's a clown staring at me. Now I know a lot of people have phobias about clowns, probably something to do with a childhood incident or whatever. Now I've always been indifferent to them, not really finding them funny or scary. So this clown is there next to me and he says, 'Salaam brother!'

Yeah, a real life Muslim clown. Who woulda thought it. I saw him earlier screaming and shouting and being crazy, as clowns normally are. Now here he was greeting me. I was shocked and could only come out with, 'Nice shoes.'

Alas, we were soon at the bottom of the escalators and had to go our separate ways. I then realised it would be cool to get a picture of him and tell everyone how I met a Muslim clown. So I went back upstairs and he was right there and saw me and walked over and said, 'Want a picture?' It was amazing, like he read my mind. I normally hate taking pictures, especially in public; the tourist gig just isn't my thing. But I was like yeah, thinking I was about to take a pic of him. But nope, he actually calls another woman over to take a picture of the two of us!

So after 20-something years of my life, I have a picture with a dressed-up person. I present to you, the clown and I (I'm the one on the left before someone tries to be smart and ask which one is the clown!):

It seems someone stuck a gingerbread man on my face, oops. Man, I look big, must be the irons I haven't been pumping. He was Algerian, by the way. He asked me to guess where he was from and I got it in one! He was impressed; I was like 'Yeah, I know my clowns.'