To London yesterday for periodic rendezvous with former colleagues. Bump into lady from village who is off to meet family in local town; family now includes, she thinks, about 22 great-grandchildren, with two more due in February, along with a great-great-grandchild. Feel, unusually, rather lost for words.
Am as always delighted to be in London, despite wet and windy November weather and noticeably increased Police Presence at station; am somehow reassured by sight of one elderly lady’s determined efforts to get views of particularly burly officer on best Underground route to her destination. Meet friends near site of office building where we first worked together some twenty years ago; try not to see recent demolition of building as in any way metaphorical.
Head to Sir John Soane’s Museum which none of us ever quite managed to visit in many years of working almost next door. Find it interesting but strangely depressing, and am not sure that even promise of catacombs’refurbishment in 2016 will tempt us back; are all relieved to settle down for an afternoon’s talking about everything in nearby café, and while, sadly, we cannot actually Put The World To Rights, feel, as usual, much better afterwards.