Cheese and chats with Bob

 Off to see Bob in London today. We met under Nelson's column as usual. While waiting I noticed that   Whitehall was jammed with a hundred tractors jamming the road as the farmer's protested inheritance tax changes. Met Bob and it was a fine thing to see him. We spent the day mooching about between cafes, and had some food in Wagamama's and popped into Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese and Ye Olde Mitre, historic old pubs to suit us venerable old chaps. But we were extremely restrained with the drinking. Mainly we spent the day talking and catching up. Bob lost his mother fairly recently and is obviously still processing this. His daughter is doing very well at university, and was producing and directing a student pantomime. Lovely to see how proud he is of Milly. We ended up in a noisy bar, full of people fresh from work and barking loudly at each other, and music playing really loudly. It actually made me feel stressed, straining to hear what Bob was saying and so on. Times have changed. Fond farewells with Bob, and I had a fairly smooth journey home to Seaford, boofing gratefully onto the gold sofa at about nine thirty. I'd not really been very energetic today. Poor Bob it transpired didn't get back home in Salisbury till 2:30 -- due to some abomination with the trains.

Below inside Ye Olde Cheshire cheese. The fire wasn't lit. The surly barman said it was because it was knackered when a shiny faced American tourist asked him about it. We only stayed there for the one drink, but it was great. Never noticed the legend about gentlemen only over the door of the bar we habitually frequent.

Below unhappiness from the shires... And inside the bar at the Cheese.