4December1995

London: 4th December 1995
My dear folks,

I think I ought to tell you that I’m full of “meules” & salmon steaks & amazing salad & utterly delicious panettone. I am well aware - from personal experience - of the dangers of detailing menus in correspondence of this sort. Hearing about what somebody ate is as about as exciting as listening to Castro’s six-hour annual report to the Communist Party. Nevertheless, you should know that we have been out to supper with our neighbours &, by anybody’s standards, it was 5-star service. Herman, a gifted designer, is an exemplary cook, specialising in fish & salads of such tantalising fragrances as would drive a Muslim to pork. He sprinkles his creations with herbs from his own garden, filling the air with the scent of rosemary. Very satisfying indeed!

I took along a couple of bottles of South African white, a crisp blend of chardonnay and something else, that were up to the occasion. Since we had hardly seen each other in weeks, we had lots to discuss, particularly the matter of who will look after our cats over Christmas when we are both going to be away. I don’t know that the matter is resolved but at least it has been considered. At worst, we may put three days’ worth of biscuits down on the landing & see how much of the flat Mavis refrains from tearing apart in our absence. He dislikes being left alone almost as much as he dislikes travelling - in cars or cat-baskets or whatever.

Jones loves him again because he has stopped biting her, a habit he indulged for a full fortnight after her return from Portugal. It is difficult to know whether he was angry at her for going away or for coming back. Our neighbour said he (ie Mavis) had spent a couple of hours sprawled across his doorway today, growling & hissing each time somebody walked over him. Clearly he is not as relaxed downstairs as he is up here where he sprawls in dramatic poses on the carpet or couch, quite oblivious - or, at least pretending to be - of what is going on around him.

How are you over there in Canada? And how much longer do you stay there, Cathy? Your weather is arriving over here, an Arctic freeze that has whipped the feet out from beneath our comfortable 10 degree days. We had planned to walk a couple of kms up to Kilburn where I wanted to buy some computer software but we decided, after being zapped by an icy blast at the door, to take the car instead.

It seems I no sooner set out these days than I need to have a pee. I think it’s the weather. I’m too young for prostate problems....surely! Fortunately, Biddy’s bar was athrob in Kilburn & the happy patrons barely noticed the sylph figure that slunk in, peed & slunk out again. They were so engaged in their snooker & conversation that they’d have been oblivious of anything short of a catastrophe such as having the Guinness or Murphys run out!

We found the software & peered in a couple of other shops. It wasn’t weather to linger & we didn’t. I meant to clean the car but the car-wash was closed. The Rocket badly needs its annual overhaul. I noticed at the weekend that the reversing lights had given up the ghost, following the example of the fog-lamp. It’s just been such a busy time. Where else did the day go? I photostatted another bunch of Christmas letters & posted them off. Think I’m done now. Jones had to visit three post offices to get the series of Christmas stamps I wanted, the 41p for overseas & the 25s for the EU. They looked so much better on the envelopes! I was grateful for her efforts. I also found some labels in a stationery shop & was very pleased to get my computer to print them out. It’s quite tricky, you know! Stefania, the neighbour who was our hostess this evening, is getting a wopping big expensive Apple Mac tomorrow to do home publishing. I wish her well.

But my page is up. Excuse the rambling dissertation.