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November 4, 2018
9.15 am: A separation and departure: love and pride were expressed. From Waterloo Station, I took the tube to St Paul’s. As I approached the cathedral, via the walkway by the churchyard, the bells were ringing. There’s a sweet spot, close to the entrance of Pater Noster Row, where the peel reflects off the wall opposite the bell tower. The…
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November 3, 2018
To Covent Garden, in search of a purveyor of diaries. ’You have arrived!’, the usually helpful lady on Google Maps announced. ‘But where’s the shop? I still can’t find the shop!’, I protested. (She was not open to interrogation.) It’s a lesson in life: you can be that close, but still lost. I asked a flesh and blood someone-in-the-know to…
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November 2, 2018
The London weekend: time with my son, a former student, artworks, and great music ahead. The cold sun cut across the frosted fields and pulsed through the branches like a strobe light. (I turned away.) A widower I know introduced himself; he was travelling far north to attend one of his children’s wedding anniversary. ‘Our son’. The ‘our’ signified both…
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November 1, 2018
The liturgy of the mornings: I rise early, and wait for my skin to register the cold air before placing my feet on the bedroom carpet). Then, down the corridor, passed the shapely lady of the lamp (She’s clearly French; an ‘Evette’, maybe), to the bathroom. There, ablutions to the sound of Radio 4’s news programs. (I can’t bear to…
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