Tuesday, April 17. Still getting used to English ways - footpath rule is that locals walk on thr right, tourists on the left. As there are lots of tourists this makes for maximum confusion. Went shopping at Tesco and almost fell foul of queuing rules - it seems that you form one queue for all the checkouts, rather than going to the nearest vacant one. At least I know which way the traffic is coming from, which I could never get used to in Italy, where in any case most streets were only one and a half lanes wide. Also, in this country zebra crossings mean you can cross, whereas Italian ones are likely to have inconspicuous pedestrian lights as well. At least in NY the lights are obvious (once you know they're there). A's apartment v comfortable for a couple and could hardly be more central. Next door is Greycoat Hospital, once a charitable foundation, now a girls' comprehensive. Every so often a twittering crowd of girls in maroon tracksuit tops goes past the window on the way to the grounds of Westminster School for sport. A tells us that private schools here are obliged to share their facilities with other neighbouring schools, on pain of losing their charitable status. From A's bookshelves read a few chapters of 'Five on a Treasure Island' in French. The whole narrative is transported to France, the children being called François, Mick, Annie and Claud(in)e, while Timmy the dog becomes Dagobert!
Out in the evening with Oscar and Jennifer Hill whom I hadn't seen for 33 years, though L, A and Gracie have had more recent contact. Oscar a now retired professor of psychiatry and looking very fit after having had more bypasses than the Hume highway. I had imam bayeldi, which when I tasted it made me feel that the imam's problem was probably an allergy to cumin. Back via Jubilee Line to Westminster, next to and 50 metres below the bed of the Thames. Amazing revetments as you travel the 3 long flights of escalators - L says just like new Grammar assembly hall. Home to sleep, though L has caught cold and coughing hard. Tomorrow I guess she'll be croaking at Woking.