I happen to know it’s a Friday. Tbh this is of very little relevance. To anything. Had I said today is the ninth day after the Winter solstice that might have meant more. Heading in the right direction but hatches still battened.
We have no/very little say in our direction of travel. Some of us might crave for better days, sunnier climes but it is what it is. We are where we are.
Loudish background music, smooth jazz even, although I’m sure there is a more accurate description, streams through the kitchen door. This is fine. The source of the music leaves for London tomorrow. We are happy for the source to still be here enjoying our company and us his.
That will leave one remaining offspring, our daughter Hannah, and her boyf George with us until the New Year. That’s cool too.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Lots of people mark this occasion and actually in a society run by calendar it is a significant milestone. It would make more sense for it to coincide with the solstice but I guess it is too late to change now.
My only negative thought about NYE is the Auld Lang Syne nostalgia thing. I don’t do it. I’ve always subscribed to the notion that life moves on. If someone moves away and we don’t see them any more, if I enjoyed their acquaintance I’ll probs keep in touch via social media, occasional visits or Christmas card. If I bumped into them on the street I’d stop for a chat or maybe even go for a coffee or beer. It isn’t something to dwell on. Maybe I’m just a miserable bugger. Probs.
Moving away from a locale is far less of a final thing these days. When the pilgrims decided to head on an American adventure there was, unless the ship sprang a leak which one of them did, no going back. A letter home would have resulted in a reply the following year, if at all.
Two weeks today I am off to Miami. I’ll leave the house at around 7am to catch the 07.30 from Lincoln Central and by 19.30 local time will be saying hello to my pal @Joe Marion at Miami International Airport. The flight lands at 19.15 but a combination of turning left on the plane and Global Entry should see me through in very little time. Carry on only.
When we visited Plymouth MA and the Mayflower replica this year the notion that there was a perfectly good airport nobbut twenty miles away did go through my mind 🙂 I’ll probably have more room on the plane than was enjoyed by the passengers on board the Mayflower. Certainly the champagne will be better although I did observe that beer/ale was high on the list of pilgrim needs.
There is a backup plan for the UK bit of the journey in case the train staff are on strike, again. This involves a taxi. The backup may in fact become plan A as the train option looks to involve multiple changes over four hours versus a single three hour taxi hop. Only issue is the taxi is two hundred quid more expensive and I’d have to put up with the company of the driver for three hours. Gonnamullitover.
The flight is around 2 ish but I like to get there early especially if the Concorde lounge is involved. Pushed the boat out on this flight as I will be going out again with one of the kids the following week and need max comfort and min recovery time in between.
I’m quite excited about the prospects of 2023. Ok there is a lot of crap going on in the world but I’m focussed on my own little bit of it. The Little World of Trefor Davies by Giovanni Guareschi. Unfortunately Giovanni died in 1968 at the tender age of sixty. Brings it home a bit really. I’m sixty one. Doesn’t feel particularly tender 🙂 If you don’t know who Giovanni is you need to google him.
What is age anyway? It’s quite handy to have a senior railcard and nice to get free prescriptions. The latter will likely become a more valuable perk as I get older whilst the former will grow less relevant.
Hotel breakfasts are never quite the same as you can do for yourselves at home imho. Ok some at the very high end can come close and of course you are often presented with a much wider range of options than you would typically have at home.
Nevertheless I stand by my statement. This morning I have finished off the tinned grapefruit and had some toast and marmalade. The toast, made on granary bread, came out right first time with no need to put it through a machine a second time. Bonne Maman marmalade and Normandie butter. Yanow the form.
The other thing about hotel breakfasts is that I am compelled by a value for money gene to have the full English (when in England) even though I don’t typically have to pay for breakfast, at least at Hiltons. Usually the full English at your bog standard Hilton is not particularly appetising and is pretty much identical across many of their brands. Ah well.
Breakfast is complete and I am now slowly getting my brain around the day ahead. Nothing too onerous but I do want to put in some phone calls and my expenses are somewhat overdue. December was quite hectic innit.
For us today is the first day of relative normality after Christmas. There is more “holidaying” to come but not today. We don’t have to worry about keeping the kids from being bored and being stuck in the house.
When I used to hold down a fulltime job I often worked between Christmas and New Year. There was never anything going on in the business and it seemed a waste of holiday allowance to spend it at home moping. Now with no particular set holidays I work when it suits me regardless of the day of the week/season.
One of my jobs today is to refill the recycling bins that were emptied early this morning. I was able to avoid that job on Boxing Day because both brown bins were rammed.
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Today is actually a nice day. Bit of a breeze making it quite refreshing and not cold. The fact that I am writing this however does indicate a certain reluctance on my part to sort my expenses. There is a big pile of receipts on the desk in front of me as well as some in my email inbox. Once I get going I will be fine. Sigh 🙂
Found this poem on philosopherontap last night. It’s called A Golfer’s Eulogy.
When his game is up,
And prompts no more debate,
And life’s unerring drive,
Ascends the green of fate,
It will I’m sure be said,
By crowds that filled the gallery,
That upright was his stance,
Whilst stood upon the final tee,
And when the last put drops,
Stewards will murmur from afar,
In marking of his card,
He played his round in level par.
I wrote it in 2009. At the time my dad was alive but I suspect that deep down it was intended for him. When my parents died I didn’t particularly go public although others did which is fine. It is at Christmas that you really think about your parents. On a day like today I’d have called dad for a chat. I used to call most days. We wouldn’t talk about anything in particular.
During covid lockdowns I’d just leave a video session running where we wouldn’t necessarily say much or anything. Dad got weaker over time and it was difficult to hear him. He was a victim of covid although the disease itself didn’t kill him. He wasn’t allowed visitors in the care home. A terrible thing at his time of life. We shouldn’t forget but let’s move on.
2023 is already looking action packed. Not sure we can squeeze that much more into it. That isn’t to say every day is accounted for but as many days as we want to plan ahead for are. You need downtime. Ordinary days.
Ordinary days mean days where you go to the shops/gym/do jobs round the house/gardening/watch TV/build that model aeroplane/do your knitting/cook a nice meal. That kind of thing.
I still haven’t got around to writing a hit West End stage musical though that remains on the list. To do that I need a lot of ordinary days, without travel and without work getting in the way. No sign of that as yet.
Travel starts again mid January with a fairly intensive month of it from that time. I guess if I didn’t enjoy it I wouldn’t do it. Ah well. Time to get on with my expenses…
My body comes gradually to its senses. It lies there for a while before realising it has changed state. An arm reaches out and brings life to the radio.
There is something all powerful about bringing life to a radio
Some time later the radio drives me out of bed. Dressing gowned stumble downstairs and stick the coffee.
I wander into the music room
Sitting at the piano my hands rest on the keys. A moment of inspiration awaits. Gradually notes appear and the piano picks the music.
Time dances
The day fades into reverie. Coffee miraculously changes to wine and into brandy. An empty plate lies on top of the piano, evidence of the day.
Bit of a result. Was in Public House 12 over the road from the Brussels office and got chatting to the landlord. About 3 years ago I was in there with Wayne one afternoon for a couple before heading to the Eurostar. When it came to paying the guy (name of Shen) said the credit card system was down across Brussels and it was cash only. I didn’t have any cash so he let me have the beers for nothing.
6 months later I was back and reminded him that I owed him for the beers. He remembered exactly what we had and where we were sitting. I settled my debt. So chatting with him today I recalled the occasion and he said he periodically told that story to customers.
Winding the clock on a minute or two I asked him where I could buy a branded bar sign for the shed. He said you couldn’t buy them but he had a stock of them in his cellar at home and I could have one of them. Wow. Not wow, fantastic. He is going to choose one for me. I just need to figure out how we get it home.
Public House 12 is my fave pub in Brussels. Not because of what I’ve just written. Just because it is a great pub, which is why we go there.
Bloke in the LNER lounge wearing shorts fair play. He is on the phone. ‘Got here at seven thirty but the effin lounge was shut. had to find a coffee shop. it was effin freezing’
he is off up north to his mam’s
train delayed!
Somewhat chaotic boarding. A couple of kids sat at my table in coach L when I arrived. Saving the table for their mum and dad who were putting the cases away (and blocking the doorway for ages whilst they did so). Turns out they were meant to be in coach J not coach L. Stressed parents”will sort cases out later”.
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A recovery day in prospect having been on the move for the best part of the last week. Woke at 7am and went down to make the tea. A simple breakfast of two slices of buttered sourdough toast with Denise’s homemade orange and lemon marmalade. Yum.
It is minus two outside, an appropriate temperature for the season. The shed however is a toasty (geddit) twenty one degrees and a good place to be on such a morning. The view outside is a crispy white mingled with browns and greens.
Having been busy for the last week or more there is much to do in the house. Pete the decorator has been in and mirrors need replacing on walls, lampshades put back and so on. I also need to get the Christmas tree lights up. Twill be done. On earth. The output from Pete’s labours has of course been good despite my questioning the choice of battleship grey elephant’s breath as the colour.
We are less than a week away from the winter solstice. That feels good. We will no doubt be slaying a wild boar and roasting it on the campfire whilst we all huddle round to stay warm. The solstice also this year coincides with the annual carol singing sesh at the Morning Star. What’s not to like? 🙂
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Been a busy day and productive. Now it is dark and the mood lighting is on in the shed. Slipping into the evening…
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The choir of King’s College Cambridge entertains in the kitchen. Feels right. The singing has the correct balance of expression unlike some cardboard renditions that were featured in a Sunday news item earlier.
Onions are being chopped. Tea is brewing. Breakfast options decisions delayed. All is well. Our kitchen is the biggest room in the house which is as it should be. The shed has similar dimensions but that is not in the house and is different.
Going to do a booze run this morning. I ordered the Pol Roger from Majestic Wine Warehouse yesterday. Was quite a bit cheaper than in Waitrose. They were out of stock in Lincoln but had 96 bottles available in Grantham. Wossgoinon Grantham?
I say “booze” run but I have two items on my shopping list: vegetable oil and booze. The former is needed to fry the chips for tomorrow night’s meal. The latter covers a multitude of options. With seven adults in the house for the holidays we will get through significant quantities of sauvignon blanc, shandy, and sherry. Or similar.
On this occasion I am going to take the haute cuisine approach to chips as espoused by highly regarded chefs. This will involve parboiling the chipped potatoes and keeping them overnight in the refrigerator. Tomorrow morning they will receive their first fry and then finished off in the evening shortly prior to serving.
There have been occasions in the past where we’ve had to hang around waiting for the chips to cook. Not this time Raymond. The cognoscenti list beef dripping as the appropriate fat for cooking but that not only isn’t practical but probs quite expensive. You can buy it in small pots in Fosters. I’ll think about it. Trouble is we don’t have chips that often so it wouldn’t really get used after tomorrow. We do have some in for the roasties on Christmas day.
You are in theory supposed to cook the chips at two different temperatures. This feels like a bit of a faff but I have just ordered a cooking thermometer with next day delivery. See how it goes. Wasn’t expensive and it will come in handy for the bbq and to check the beef on Christmas Day.
The choir has moved on to “Joseph Was an Old Man” by Sir David Wilcox. Not heard it before nor of Sir Dave. Heard of Joseph obvs. Can’t say it has stuck in my mind. If I heard it again I probably wouldn’t recognise it. I assume his mates used to call him Dave. I certainly will henceforth. Already have.
Outside, the stark beauty of the frozen back garden has been replaced by the dull soggy brown that is more prevalent at this time of year. It is why people head for a bit of winter sun after Christmas. The UK is usually more miserable than not in the first three months of the year.
Anyway I trust your days will be merry and bright. Not so sure about the White Christmas.
Ma belly is full and I am warm. I feel a cup of tea would go down well. I have started a new book which I am optimistic will be an enjoyable read. We won the cricket in Pakistan with minutes to spare. Test cricket at its best. This morning we had a delivery of logs.
Two days at home this week before heading to London and party time.
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Through the infinity of night my mind hops from ice cream and espresso martinis in Soho to scuba diving amongst the coral reefs of the Bay of Pigs. Multitude destinations where the edge of the imagination meets reality. There is no boundary. I reach out and touch and reality disappears back into my dreams.
How can you see through the darkness? You know it is there.
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This morning’s frost and the change to colder weather has given me somewhat of a dilemma. Will be spending much of today in a pub and whilst the dress code is Christmas jumper I have packed a Christmassy Hawaiian shirt. I don’t possess a Christmas jumper because I haven’t come across one that I like. The freezing weather is going to make the Hawaiian shirt a difficult option. I’ll work it out.
Otherwise I’m all packed and ready to go.
It’s a strange feeling having trefbash come around again. This one is trefbash 13. Trefbash 11 was cancelled due to covid but since trefbash 3 it has been held at The Phoenix Arts Club. A fantastic venue. I don’t remember when I started numbering them. Maybe as early as trefbash 2. I don’t have any photos from that bash either. Someone will have some somewhere.
For the last few bashes we have used a professional photographer. It’s the only way I can remember who came. Also a great resource for sharing. Most people like to see photos of themselves. I do anyway. 🙂
I still have some work to do before the bash. Budgeting stuff for next year. I don’t know how I managed to get into this sitch as trefbash normally represents the end of work for the year after which I down tools. I’m off to Brussels next week!!! A one day meeting stretched into three thanks to rail strikes. My body says no thanks. I’ll have to push through the pain barrier 🙂
Today’s cold weather is very reminiscent of this time last year. London was not particularly pleasant to walk around, even with the right gear on. The cold weather also makes finding a late night taxi nigh on impossible.
I recall the night before the first trefbash, Ajax and I were staying in Waterloo and we rolled out of Ronnie Scotts at closing time. It was around minus six. I was wearing an insulated suede jacket and himalayan woolly hat but Ajax was out in party gear – posh shirt and thin jacket. Took us an hour to walk to Waterloo as we had to stop at MacDonalds for a coffee for him to warm up. He nearly died of hypothermia. Bless…Memories… 😀
The snow hit London the next day cancelling lots of trains. In consequence quite a number of attendees failed to make it. In order to get through the kitty we had to drink the place dry of Pol Roger champagne which happened to be the most expensive on the menu and which is now the standard offering at trefbash 🙂
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The dust has settled on another successful trefbash. We polished off the last of the Pol Roger at around 01.30am seeing as by then it was my birthday. Nat Morris hit the floor for one last solitary dance whilst Will, Stefan and I chewed the cud with Nat’s old school chum talking about something very memorable that I totes can’t remember anything about. Snormal.
This morning son Tom joined us for a birthday breakfast. He has taken the day off. V sensible. I like to think that trefbash is the point after which I down tools for Christmas but on this occasion I had the temerity to accept a conference call invite for 10am. On my birthday!! I made it a short call.
It gets worse. I am in Brussels for meetings Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday. Because there is a train strike on Tuesday I have to go to London on Monday and stay in a hotel. The Eurostar back on the Wednesday has been rescheduled to an hour earlier because of the train strike which is a bit of a nuisance.
When I get to London I’m having to stay another night because of the bloomin train strike. Ok it works wonders for my Hilton Honors points and with rollover nights means I’ll already be well on the way to qualifying for Diamond for 2024. I already have 24 rollover nights in the bank for next year before the trefbash stay and next week in London and Brussels.
One of the things I like about trefbash is getting together with like minded folks from the internet industry where you can rely on there being a conversation about BA Tier Point runs and double Hilton points offers 🙂It was really great to see everyone.
On the way back to the hotel one thing stuck in my mind. At 2am after a night on the pop what you really want is a kebab or a burger or simlar. Will and the boys have a place en route to their hotel that sells fried chichen. The only place in and around Trafalgar Square open at that time of night is the McDonalds on the Strand. There was a big very slow moving queue outside that I joined briefly and then gave up because it didn’t look to me as if anyone was coming out having successfully purchased some food. What the place needs is a couple of burger vans.
In other news I note that there are 9,979 unread emails in my trefor.net inbox. None of them is from you obvs.
There are always some statistics that come out of a trefbash that I quite like. The 50 bottles of Pol Roger consumed is one but the 127 espresso martinis that far outsold last year’s performance whereas the 103 pornstar martinis fell short are others. Must have been a slightly different mix of attendees. Also the espresso martinis were being delivered on trays with the ice creams which might have accounted for the trend.
As usual a massive thanks goes to the sponsors without which trefbash could not be the bash that it is. These are Lonap, Fuse2, Magrathea, Fractional Teams, Gamma and Netaxis. It was very pleasing to hear the loud cheering that accompanied each sponsor’s name when I read them out on the night.
Jeff Brown’s band was as usual fantastic. Top professionals, they get everybody dancing. Dancing is an essential part of the mix for a good party. I’m a proud parent on these occasions when one or two offspring get up on stage and join in @John Davies. The food this year was curry. The fact that many people went back for seconds tells it all.
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Awake to a wonderful deep frost blanketing the estate of Davies. Real winter has arrived. Two rings have been fired up on the stovetop to accelerate the kitchen warming. I feel in no rush to prepare breakfast. It is the sabbath after all, somewhere in the world. Cup of tea. A low sun climbs slowly over the allotment fence. My thick woollen hat and scarf adorn the pine table.
The monotone wireless drones bad news. I switch to the cricket in Pakistan, a more acceptable audio backdrop. Parmesan parsnips are prepared for the freezer in advance of an upcoming feast. A jar of spiced pickled shallots stands on the butcher’s bench ready for packaging as a birthday gift.
The sun has set on another successful Christmas Market party. The first batch of weekend visitors dispatched to the train station. Sue has set off for home in her car. The last four have gone for a stroll into town before heading back to London themselves.
The tidying up has largely been done although I still have to put the glasses away and sort out the remaining booze. A cup of tea has appeared.
A steady stream, nay flood, of people moves surely uphill from the town centre. One way traffic until later in the day at which time a switch will be flicked reversing the direction. Still plenty of time to bag that present for auntie Flo.
Does anyone have an auntie Flo? Let me know. Go with the Flo.
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Four graduates, one mortarboardless, smile down at their proud parents. Good word mortarboardless. Google offered to add it to the dictionary but I declined. If anyone is going to be adding it to a dictionary it needs to be the person at the OED responsible for such acts. Needs that level of credibility.
I shall grow not old as those that frequent the Waitrose caff are old.
Did a bit of a food run this morning. Just some breakfast essentials from Fosters butcher in advance of a busy weekend plus three Portabella mushrooms and one tin of peeled Puglian plum tomatoes from Waitrose. Very specific I know.
I arrived at the Waitrose car park in good spirits and glad to be alive. I must have been smiling because a woman, unknown, going in the opposite direction bid me good morning and suggested that having a nice day would be appropriate. My smile broadened.
My shopping list was short and unusually I stuck to it. Repairing to the cafe and looking around made me realise that this is where people go when they are waiting to die. I didn’t sit there long. Finished my drink and am now home.
I am constantly amazed by life. Everything about it. It isn’t all good but it is all amazing. We are all works of art. The confluence of science and art.
It is my custom and practice to spend train journeys putting words to a page. Today I have alternatives should my creative muse run dry or the lead in my pencil wear out. Before leaving the house I downloaded the first series of the Young Ones on BBC iPlayer. Not watched it since I was of that age, forty years ago, but I remember it as a classic comedy. Let’s hope that it is a timeless classic. I want the memory to remain fond.
This morning as we leave Lincoln there is a pale red glow in the sky and frost on the fields. The first of the season.
It being early I am hungry, a state exacerbated by the smell of bacon wafting from the train galley. Tis only a matter of time.
There are three of us in the carriage. Two bacon rolls and a porridge. Later, the porridge has still not arrived despite the fact that the bacon rolls have already been devoured. Right decision.
Not much moves in the fields around Newark. One solitary blackbird. The train slows as it approaches Northgate station, waiting for a favourable signal.
‘Welcome aboard this LNER Azuma bound for London Kings Cross.’ Two chatty people get on, disturbing the peace. I exhibited an early morning induced mental dullness when leaving Lincoln. A trance like state I was happy to embrace but which has now disappeared. Fortunately having settled into their seats, one behind the other, the noise has abated and they are now buried in their own distractions.
We leave Newark sliding behind, an almost empty station car park fading to the rear of the train. Large pale green fields are surrounded by water filled drainage ditches. Agricultural machinery stands. Pylons tower. Bungalows squat.
There is beauty in nature irrespective of season. In some respects there is more colour in autumn and winter than in spring and summer. Different hues. It is true that spring is more uplifting. A natural requirement of the body after winterlight.
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Just made the Eurostar and now in France. Accepted a glass of white wine with lunch at 10.45 natch. Will probs regret it. Nivver mind. Life is short. Drink wine at 10.45am. Was 11.45 really. Just depends on your zonal perspective.
The temps est miserable. I’m glad I stuck a fleece on as a last minute thought before leaving maison Davies.
Mentally sluggish again after that glass of wine. I knew it would happen innit 🙂 It’s all about attitude.
Bloke sat in front of me is a musician. There seems to be a band all on the train but mostly sitting separately. Two of them were in our seats when we got on the train and had to move. Our guy has a Pret a Manger bag containing some sort of cream cheese sandwich and something else i can’t quite see. Maybe he doesn’t like French food. Snails and frogs legs in garlic and all that sort of foreign muck. Probs doesn’t want to go down with the Delhi belly before the gig ce soir. Makes a lorra sense to me although we are not in India.
Meanhwile the train races past cars on the adjacent road kicking sand up into their windscreens as we go by.
England about to start playing football and Anne has complained that her connection to the internet has vanished. I said she should have downloaded the game onto her phone before we set off :)) Not interested myself. Rewind got time zone wrong.
The pylons are different in France. As is the electricite. It is unlikely that the difference in electricite has influenced the design of the pylons, n’est pas? What would Volt aire have said. Geddit?
Our restaurant tonight, Procope, is where Voltaire used to hang out, apaz. Published his pamphlets on the top floor. As good a place as any je guess. I have pre-ordered smoked Scottish saumon, fillet of boeuf and profiteroles. Makes a lorrasense to me. Nice drop of wine to go with it. Presumably the boef is French. Somewhere like Limoges or simlar. Hopefully they won’t overcook the boef thinking that because I live in England I don’t like it rare! Huh (contemptuous shrug and nostril twitch).
25 mins to our destination. I half caught an announcement but I happen to have Edith Piaf crooning in my phones at the same time so didn’t really listen or hear properly. Hopefully there will be a fast track for EU passport holders 🙂 Doubt it.
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Blurry start to the day after yesterday’s long lunch that lasted until 10pm. Slow boat to Lincoln leaves Gare Du Nord at 10.13am. Makes no Seines that sentence. It is all a state of mind. Reality is racing.
There’s an Irish bar next to the Moulin Rouge. O’Sullivans by the Mill. They will be open now. Last night a quickly faded memory.
The food at Au Boin Coin was a lukewarm disappointment. The wine was fine. All things come to pass. We move on. I’m glad I have memories of good times there.
We ended up at a local bar near the hotel. The French were playing the Aussies at Association Football. The home supporters were very animated. Emotional you know, the French.
It is Thanksgiving in the USA tomorrow. I feel as if I can identify with this having recently stayed opposite the beach in Cape Cod where the Mayflower pilgrims first landed and then subsequently visiting Plymouth across the water.
The age of Steven has been left inconspicuously behind us. The borough of Pete lies ahead.
Down the tracks. Wrong side of the tracks. Track twenty nine.
Your left hand doesn’t look right.
Take it easy. Easy on Wednesday afternoon. As the song goes.
Running 15 minutes late into Nuarque due to a near miss at Biggleswade level crossing. The wade of Biggles. Big Les.
Trefbash is two weeks tomorrow. Make sure you bring your dancing shoes.
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Enjoyed hiding under the cosiness of the duvet this morning. Made me think of others less fortunate.
Just two weeks to go until trefbash and registrations have been flooding in. If you plan to come and haven’t yet signed up I wouldn’t leave it too late if I were you.
Orf to the smoke again this afternoon. One of the kids is having a party tomorrow night but of course there is a train strike so we are going down today. Not back until Monday as the trains are pretty non existent at the best of times at weekends at this time of year due to engineering works. At this rate we would be better off buying a flat in London.
I do like little trips to London. The plan this weekend is to use my new Tate membership to visit Tate Britain on Saturday and Tate Modern on Sunday. If anyone wants to tag along I can take guests. Maybs a spot of luncheon. Lemme know.
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Not sure whether any of you knew this but in Middlesborough there is a proud supplier of tuna subs to the London and North Eastern Railway company.
I think everyone should consider only watching weather on the TV. Ok it isn’t always good news but it’s quite pleasant compared with a lot of the crap that gets shoved our way. A bit of rain here and there. Wind etc. It is just as likely to tell you that it will be a nice sunny day, perfect for taking the dog for a walk. Or strolling to the shops.
Mind you shopping doesn’t really do it for me. At least not down yer average chain dominated high street.
The train attendant/food and drink dispensing person didn’t get her stuff together and missed getting off at Grantham. Dashed back as she forgot her bag and the train doors closed and we moved out of the station. Oops. Felt a bit sorry for her tbh.
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Sunday was a typically wet and miserable late autumn day in London. John and I were walking between Borough Market and the Tate Modern when I saw a homeless person sitting on the floor with his hand out begging. A woman walked up to him and gave him a five pound note. As she walked away the homeless man put his head in his hands and sobbed. It was heart wrenching.