Where do you go to, my lovely readers? You frequent Mount Street when you put up at The Connaught, you saunter along Jermyn Street on the way to the London Library; perhaps you venture down the King’s Road en route to the Chelsea Physic Garden?
In ten years I will have forgotten that TV licences for 75 year-olds were once buckshee but anytime now I will mourn, selfishly, the revocation of the Cranford Protocol.
Earlier this year I posited that the expanded London Ultra Low Emissions Zone, effective in 2021, will stop me owning a car. Well, I can change my mind, can’t I?
I took Bali along the towpath to Richmond yesterday morning while Robert kept an eye on Bertie. It was high tide so not much avian activity on the foreshore.
A few days ago I mentioned watching A Clockwork Orange and Full Metal Jacket. My interest was kindled by a visit to the Kubrick exhibition at the Design Museum.
The weather on Wednesday morning was inclement, nevertheless sixteen Friends of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens gathered under the bandstand in Hyde Park. There was a high attrition level in my party.
Nearly twenty years ago I went to Quintin Hogg’s memorial service in Westminster Abbey. At the time I was working in the City but Ian arrived in good time to get front row seats, that is as front row as permitted for nobodies. We were placed behind the section reserved for the House of Lords.
An ornithological highlight in Ukraine was seeing cranes nesting beside the road. My Polish and German election observer partners weren’t impressed as they see plenty at home. I said I’d only seen one pair nesting in England and they are made of stainless steel.
I met Bali yesterday morning and we clicked. His owner has a problem with her Achilles‘ tendon and cannot take him for walks. As she lives only a few doors away I stepped into the breach.