French flair and floods
Up to the smoke this afternoon to meet my lovely French client Jeanne. We met in the Royal Opera House restaurant. A lovely building to wander around. I was five minutes earlier than Jeanne and I stood out on the terrace looking down on the bustle of Covent Garden below.
Jeanne arrived with chic hair. How can hair be chic? Is the question I have since asked myself. But it undeniably was - and probably one of those sinister French things. We sat in the restaurant, squinting into the low bright sun above the square. Good to see her and chat briefly about projects we will work on next year, which will make a nice change from diseases.
Then off to Richmond, where I waited in one of my favourite pubs The White Cross, for Mex and Sarah. Waiting I got absorbed in a book of poems, and then looking up saw that the river had flooded and the pub was islanded. Trapped in a pub! The horror. I bought another beer to steady my nerves.
Took a while before the water abated and Mex was able to enter, although one guy rolled up his trousers and waded across, clearly the victim of a raging thirst. We had a nice drink, and were soon joined by Sarah, who was perky. Lots a gossip and a good catch up, before we went to a chrunch-busting GSK burger, as Mex had a voucher. Fraser's doing well in the agency he has established, while Mex has just got a new webby job with Current TV, a new TV channel founded by Al Gore. So all well.
As I had drank rather a lot, due to acts of God, I fell asleep on the train going home. Found myself awkwardly sitting near Lorraine's ex-husband and his partner. I looked in their direction for a bit, but appeared to be shrouded in invisibility, or maybe it was the beard.
Home to a delighted Calliope. I watched a couple of Frasier episodes, while the kitten, who'd been waiting for a fight all evening, nipped the tip of my nose and set about me with gusto and arched-back side springs.
Below two not terribly good photos: a ladder climber who shouted at me, as I took a photo, you look like a man from a web site! No idea what the skirt wearing wobbler meant, perhaps it was my nifty new hat, but clearly uncannily accurate. Love the face of the guy in the bottom right hand corner. The view from The White Cross window.
Up to the smoke this afternoon to meet my lovely French client Jeanne. We met in the Royal Opera House restaurant. A lovely building to wander around. I was five minutes earlier than Jeanne and I stood out on the terrace looking down on the bustle of Covent Garden below.
Jeanne arrived with chic hair. How can hair be chic? Is the question I have since asked myself. But it undeniably was - and probably one of those sinister French things. We sat in the restaurant, squinting into the low bright sun above the square. Good to see her and chat briefly about projects we will work on next year, which will make a nice change from diseases.
Then off to Richmond, where I waited in one of my favourite pubs The White Cross, for Mex and Sarah. Waiting I got absorbed in a book of poems, and then looking up saw that the river had flooded and the pub was islanded. Trapped in a pub! The horror. I bought another beer to steady my nerves.
Took a while before the water abated and Mex was able to enter, although one guy rolled up his trousers and waded across, clearly the victim of a raging thirst. We had a nice drink, and were soon joined by Sarah, who was perky. Lots a gossip and a good catch up, before we went to a chrunch-busting GSK burger, as Mex had a voucher. Fraser's doing well in the agency he has established, while Mex has just got a new webby job with Current TV, a new TV channel founded by Al Gore. So all well.
As I had drank rather a lot, due to acts of God, I fell asleep on the train going home. Found myself awkwardly sitting near Lorraine's ex-husband and his partner. I looked in their direction for a bit, but appeared to be shrouded in invisibility, or maybe it was the beard.
Home to a delighted Calliope. I watched a couple of Frasier episodes, while the kitten, who'd been waiting for a fight all evening, nipped the tip of my nose and set about me with gusto and arched-back side springs.
Below two not terribly good photos: a ladder climber who shouted at me, as I took a photo, you look like a man from a web site! No idea what the skirt wearing wobbler meant, perhaps it was my nifty new hat, but clearly uncannily accurate. Love the face of the guy in the bottom right hand corner. The view from The White Cross window.
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