29November1995

London: 29th November 1995
My dear folks,

Just a brief note to say how much I’m thinking of you all over there. I’ve just had a word with Victor Jackson, Mum, to bring him up to date. I hadn’t realised that he and Margaret also knew the Lunds and it emerged from our conversation that he was not aware of Desmond’s death. He said Margaret had already sent cards to South Africa and sent his best regards to you. I didn’t enquire too closely about their circumstances. He said they were not getting around much but were managing. I couldn’t remember the name of the other Levers man you mentioned.

What to tell you about the day? It’s been a busy one. Aren’t they all? It was back to the flat first thing to hang the new curtains. They didn’t fit so I took them up to a local store to be altered. Jones finished her cleaning and we left the flat to a decorator who, at the instruction of the new tenant, is painting over some of the garish colours favoured by his predecessor.

Thence to the banks and on to the BBC in the car to fetch my punctured bicycle. The traffic was awful. There are only two or three roads that link my bit of London with the BBC’s bit as a result of the bottlenecks imposed by railway lines. And of course, everybody uses them. Still, the bike shop was able to mend the puncture while I waited. Jones concocted a salad lunch - I warn her of the dangers of putting too much grass inside herself - which together with the cheese sandwiches and wine I added, went down very well.

Most of the afternoon I slept ahead of overnight shifts Wednesday and Thursday. I bless my good fortune in being able to do so. Several of my colleagues lack the ability and it shows on their faces after 24 hours on the hoof. I anticipate that Mr Clinton and co are going to take up much of my night. We heard the clattering of heavy helicopters overhead at dawn this morning and guessed that the party had arrived. Still, if they are able to encourage reconciliation in Northern Ireland, I wish them well. It’s like trying to reconcile two poles of a magnet.

The first Christmas cards have started to roll in, together with a card from the post office giving us the dates by which we are advised to post our own if we want them to arrive by Christmas. I don’t send any but I do send my hardy annual letter, well aware that my prose is as likely to be used for warming the recipients’ feet as their hearts. You can’t please them all.

There’s a huge black cloud over Portugal. I spoke to friends who also have a place there and said they’d had three inches of rain in as many hours - a wee bit shattering however badly needed. Judging by the cloud, they might well get another three over the next few hours.

I said it was going to be brief and I’m straining my word already. Let me put on gloves and jacket and haul out newly mended bike for the ride to work.