16January1996

My dear folks,

It’s been quite a nice day. Not for the Chechens or their hostages in that pulverised Dagestan village with the unpronounceable name. And probably not for lots of other people. But it was quite nice for us. It would have been nicer if I’d been able to sleep beyond 0400. But my internal alarm clock remains set for that wretched hour, willy nilly, & ignores my attempts to silence it. So I listened to the World Service for an hour & then came down to the study where I busied myself at my usual pursuits.

We had hoped to visit Waterperry Gardens for a walk & tea - they do the best teas in the world. But the weatherman’s pessimistic outlook was confirmed at dawn when the houses around us emerged shrouded in gloom. I felt it would be lunatic to go crawling up the M40 under the conditions which pervaded much of the country. Jones was very disappointed & asked - nobody in particular - why all her attempts to visit Waterperry were frustrated. You may recall that it was closed the last time we drove up there. And indeed the fates do seem bent on denying her her special treat.

We walked to Hyde Park instead, to take tea in the Orangery, a great white, glass-lined dolls’ house of a tea-room, flanking Kensington Palace. Its extensive span of windows creates a greenhouse - quite literally - its interior lined with twin rows of orange trees in tubs. It was built, one gathered, for the pleasure of Queen Anne. But these days, like everything else in the country, it’s expected to pay its way. With the assistance of a French-accented waiter, it serves superior refreshments for superior prices. It was all but empty. We spent an hour musing over The Independent, tea & scones. The sun gradually broke through the mist and came streaming through the window to warm us up. By the time we emerged, the skies were blue - a stark contrast to the spectral trees and ghostly people who’d lined the avenue on our arrival. Even then, the sun was glowing through the fog in what seemed like a Resurrection scene - quite surreal.

We circled much of the park but even so Jones felt the need to continue her walk as long as she could absorb the sunshine. I’d done my duty & came home - with just one stop at the music shop to look at their cut price classical CDs. Tonight the fog is back, with warnings that it’s going to draw a curtain over much of the country. I am glad to be snug and warm at home. We had thought about going to the film, Babe, but we put it off. It’s a must but it will wait.

An item on the news...Basil D’Oliveira meeting Nelson Mandela and reminiscing over the 68 England cricket tour to South Africa that never was! Do you remember it & the uproar caused when England had the temerity to field a coloured man - & a SA coloured man at that - against the pure white Springboks? I can hear the outrage yet. Funny old world. Let me get this off - plus a copy of the birthday fax I sent to Bren.

Blessings ever,
T