As an enormous fan of the charming Hugh Laurie/Stephen Fry television series, I've been meaning to read one of the beloved P.G. Wodehouse books that inspired it. Finally I decided on Code of the Woosters, which is not the beginning of the series, but considered by many fans to be the best.

It may take those unfamiliar with the characters and previous plot lines a little bit to settle into the book since it references madcap mishaps and humorous characters from previous adventures, but once you get yourself lost in the world of Bertie Wooster, truly hair-brained delights await.

Wooster is a cherished figure in British lit, a bumbling but unintentionally funny aristocrat constantly embroiled in silly plots like the principle story line in this book (pushy aunt Agatha pressures him steal a cow shaped milk creamer from her neighbors), Wooster turns to his far more dignified and intelligent valet, Jeeves, to bail him out of his many twisting, turning catastrophes.

The TV series is as good as the book, a rare feat as we all know, but there's a certain pleasure in the witty words on page. Don't let fear of the old fashioned phase you; as formulaic and neatly tied up as the plots get, and as quaint as the world depicted is, I was thoroughly amused and would laugh aloud at certain lines. I'm excited to delve into more of the duo's adventures.

A commenter on iTunes very accurately described Let It Rock (recorded by my personal favorite British Invasion band in 1963 at Newcastle's Club A-Go-Go) as a real life version of the toga party in Animal House. While other girls would have been hammering down doors to get at Mick Jagger's pillowy lips, I'd be seeking out the round faced man who, according to this bio “was known as 'Eggs' to his friends, from his fondness for breaking eggs over naked girls”.

It's a little raucous and a little rough, and it's exciting hearing Burdon and Sonny Boy Williamson bantering with the audience. At one point Williamson talks about a bad tooth that's got him sore exclaiming, “Hell yeah, I'm gonna carry on, cause I got nothing better to do”. Strangely though, the Sonny Boy tracks did not appear on the original release, but instead were released later as The Animals with Sonny Boy Williamson. The two are together compiled on this re-release, making the entire concert experience of that night complete.

A few of my favorite songs of the genre are performed here, like Brix Pick “Night Time is the Right Time”, “Bo Diddley”, and “Dimples”. While it's true that the kind of slow, ominous and sexy sound of songs like “Gin House Blues”, “What am I Living For” and “I put a Spell on You” are missing, making this performance perhaps not my very most favorite side of the awesome band, but it's still great fun for fans of classic, upbeat rock blues.

I have no idea if David Bailey was actually as coolly and aloofly hip and frisky as the character he inspired in Michelangelo Antonioni's Blow-Up, but let's assume so. After all, he was married to and/or sleeping with the era's great beauties including Catherine Deneuve and supermodel Marie Helvin. But, beyond his personal life, it's his seminal images that he's most famous for, though he did become as much of an icon of the swinging sixties as his celebrity subjects.

If I had about $6,000 burning a hole in my pocket, I'd be tempted to own one of his most famous works, David Bailey's Box of Pinups, a collection of stunning portrait photography of the famous (Mick Jagger), the beautiful (Bailey muse Jean Shrimpton), and the notorious (gangsters Ronnie and Reggie Kray).

I'll also be on the look out for back issues of the awesome and slightly more affordable magazine Ritz Newspaper that Bailey created in the seventies. The little known publication (at least little known today in the US) has been credited by The Times with inventing celebrity publishing. It may sound like a dubious honor, but celebrities were much cooler back then.

Bailey has said, “I've always tried to do pictures that don't date. I always go for simplicity”. He still works in the industry today and is known by admirers as the Godfather of Cool.

London defied the stereotypes when it came to food. Without a broiled piece of meat in sight, we ate well and affordably (for London). The first night, we walked the quiet streets of Chelsea, down the famous Kings Road to a bustling pub called The Builder's Arms. The crowd of Manchester United fans swilling beer took us a back after a long time changing flight, but we were quickly whisked to a quiet back table.

We both enjoyed veggies to start followed by a golden pot pie for Kara and a smoked trout on a bed of beets and spinach for myself. The beer was served room temperature, which I found adorably British and our friendly waitress kept the kitchen open so we could have some comforting toffee pudding.

The next day we traveled to what is reportedly one of the best fish and chips spots in Marylebone, The Golden Hind, but were saddened to find it closed on a Saturday afternoon (lots of places there hold odd hours) so we settled for some very good (but very un-British) Italian across the street at Caffe Caldesi. I recommend the beet ravioli filled with speck.

Not to be denied, we ordered fish and chips for dinner, though at the very popular Tom's Kitchen, a recommendation by our hotel that was lively, had pretty wallpaper, and served great food (along with the fish we went crazy for their side of parsnips) and served some excellent pear cider called Poire Granit that put my gross out sweet connotations that come from, say, a Mike's Hard Lemonade to bed.

The next day while in the Brick Lane market, I tried a bite of my friends “3 very posh bangers in a bap” sold by a gregarious man in the middle of the market. It was incredible, the sausage was amazingly flavorful, the bread, hearty and soft. But our best meal was to come around the corner at the lovely and very crowded Story Deli. Decorated by the impeccably elegant Ann Shore who also runs the Story shop down the way (see minutes section), the bright space is filled with communal tables, pockets of airy dreamy inspiration and incredible crunchy pizzas. I ordered an irresistible chorizo and pumpkin (!) version piled with arugula.

Exhausted, that night we stumbled through Chelsea again upon a dim lit Mediterranean/Italian restaurant called Daphne's where a fashion model (unfamiliar) made for amazing eavesdropping while I ate grilled octopus.

Even if there weren't all the other things to love about London (the friendliness, the quaint architecture, my friend Dana and her beautiful baby Bea, to name just a few) I'd adore it for the simple pleasure of daily tea. Sure, I enjoy a cup myself back in the states pretty regularly, but it's great to be surrounded by believers who offer up full pots of the stuff constantly. It's how we began our mornings at the hotel in their posh black and white dining room.

Not a complete teatotalling spot though, No. 11 Cadogan Gardens also boasts several plush, over the top areas to enjoy cocktails surrounded by leather-bound books, massive mirrors, and amazingly huge candelabras dripping amounts of hot wax not found outside Hammer horror films.

In a whirlwind of shopping there were two concept stores in London that stood out the most and deserved my special recongnition: The Story and Cassie Mercantile. At opposite ends of town, (Cassie is in Notting Hill, The Story – the east end) they also evoke totally different vibes but are similar in that they represent the creative vision of their owners.

Cassie Mercantile is an adorable appointment only gem of a shop that is hidden down a small alley beyond a little garden perfect for sitting and feeling wonderful. “Cassie” is actually Graham Cassie, an affable man whose taste for nomadic treasures brightens every corner of the tiny two story shop. Among my favorite treasures layered were this cloth necklace and an original Yoko and John “War is Over!” poster. My friend picked up some woven bracelets and a tiny orange skateboard from the late 60's.

While lots of the wares are price prohibitive for the average consumer, it's worth a stop by for inspiration. It's a favorite among fashion designers who can justify the prices as pieces to inspire collections and I assume it's a paradise of creative magic for anyone that works for Ralph Lauren as some of the walls seem set up to exactly reproduce the company's adventurous yet classic character.

Story's a very different experience, more like a Victorian dream splashed across driftwood and ivories than a store at all. The owner, Anne Shore, is a spectacularly elegant woman wearing (I think) Demeulemeester with flowing salt and pepper hair, who despite seeming initially intimidating with her flawless composure perfect life (not only does she run this amazing store that must be a blast to set up each month, but she's responsible for the most amazing pizza shop around the corner AND is a stylist for Italian Vogue!!), is actually as friendly as all the other great people we met in our short trip.

Here too, many of the pieces are extremely expensive. Even for my birthday I could not come to terms with purchasing a $700 necklace made up of several old Victorian crocheted and lace neck pieces sewn together with jet beads. Trust me it was tempting, but instead I went home with a hair piece bundle of lovely old Japanese rice paper roses and a thick lemon, pansy and marigold hand cream Shore makes herself.

There's very little information online about Story except for this stagnant page, and its hours can fluctuate daily, but it's located at 4 Wilkes St – stop by if you're ever in the neighborhood (just don't bring a dog like a family of four tried to – everything's too delicate for that business).

When we visited Cassie Mercantile (see my raving in the minutes category) we ran smack into the writers of Disney Roller Girl, the very blog that sent me to the secret spot in the first place. I was too shy to interrupt the very serious and hip looking duo to mention this?- plus I got my London based fashion blogs mixed up and assumed the tip came from Style Bubble. But anyways, it was cool and very small world-y.

Their blog is a fairly new to my list of daily fashion browsing and has already, just today, introduced me to the blog of London based fashion photographer Matt Irwin, vintage pop up shops that I just missed being able to see in London, and this uplifting quote from Texan amazon Jerry Hall:

“Youthful beauty is a wonder to be admired, but should not be grotesquely held onto past its time. The greatest advantages of aging are being allowed to be eccentric and commanding respect.”

Well, it cost Bill Grundy a two week ban, but the now infamous interview with the Sex Pistols squarely put the charming host in the annals of pop culture history. Johnny Rottens' provoked use of obscenities shocked the world, but my favorite part is when Bill half mockingly tries to hit on Siouxsie Sioux.