B. and I spent the weekend in London, care of the father-in-law's sixtieth birthday celebration and an entirely separate party thrown by a couple of Oxford-derived friends.
It was a bit of a surreal day altogether, starting off (after we'd driven to Richmond and collected B.'s frail granny) at the RAF Club on Picadilly for lunch, proceeding to the London Eye, then via tea and scones at a hotel and champagne at the Criterion wine bar to the 100 Club, before ending up at a goth-infested house in Bermondsey. (We'd ditched B.'s granny by that point, obviously.) Particularly nice seeing many people we hadn't seen for ages, at both the parties.
Very pleasant day however, if rather packed and tiring. I rediscovered that I like London a lot when I've had enough coffee. When I haven't, it's bewildering and difficult and makes me whimper. It's a good thing I don't live there, or I'd be constantly resorting to chemical stimulants (something I'm quite sure isn't true of most of the rest of the population).
Today has been my last day of term, and I'm knackered. Tomorrow I will be mostly prostrating myself before getting down to writing in a big way, for the rest of the holiday. More bloggery to follow in the next couple of days, I shouldn't wonder.
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