I just had the most wonderful day with my friend Alisa, but as I’m too exhausted to rewrite the events in fastidious detail, you’ll have to make do with the bare necessities.

1. Today, I gave Camden a second chance. Many months ago, at the beginning of my stay in London, I wrote about my visit to the Camden Markets one frigid afternoon. I found the whole place creepy then, but now I see that it was only the god-awful winter that gave the place its sinister air. In gentle June, the area comes alive and appeals to everyone’s inner tourist. We’ve all got one: that camera-snapping, junk-buying little lad or lady within us, who secretly revels in human spectacle and enjoys the activity as much as a honeybee enjoys the hive.

2. At one point, I was approached by a wispy Asian woman, who asked me in a small whisper if she could take my picture for a Japanese fashion magazine. Someday, on some glossy foreign pages, you just might find me wearing teal sunglasses, high-waisted shorts, and peach braided sandals, smiling for an audience I’ll never know.

3. We took a stroll down the canal, all the way from Camden Town to Warwick Avenue, home of London’s very own Little Venice. As we walked, we listened to Yann Tiersen and Feist and Ella Fitzgerald on honky-tonk ipod speakers, and bit into cold nectarines freshly bought from the market.

4. As if stumbling upon a trapdoor in a palace wall, we found the Puppet Theatre inside a red barge and were invited to watch a show put on by authentic Victorian marionettes. Unfortunately, we weren’t in the position to pay the required entrance fee, but I hope to make it back there next weekend. What could possibly be more enchanting than puppets telling stories in the dark space of a houseboat?

5. Last night, Ligeti. Tonight, Schumann. At the National Gallery, in a stunning room painted red and gold, we listened to a free concert put on by two students from the Royal Music Academy. Both young women were incredibly gifted and commandeered the great vessels of their instruments with all of Captain Ahad’s zeal (and none of his lunacy). I left the Gallery with two posters from the gift shop and yet another reminder of why music is the bread, the sustenance, of my existence.

At the end of the day, I am again left with that resounding bee-sting of a question: How am I ever going to leave this city?