st james is a beautiful old underground station and i thought it would be great if i could get some nice photos of it. but they were no more than bite-sized. one of the things i’m doing at the moment is writing a market watch column in the village voice, where i potter around various farmers markets and chat to people about what’s fresh and good this week. she asked, taken completely off guard, her voice rising in fear at the mere mention of his name. i cannot think of a better gift to open on christmas morning. 