Quartermile

Up town on that most genteel of omnibuses, the 23, to pay a visit to blip’s esteemed Lady Findhorn. I’d bumped into her before my Oz jaunt (did I mention I'd been to Australia?) and we decided a meet up for a coffee was long overdue. So meet we did, at a place of my choosing, Caffé Nero, up somewhere near where Simpson’s used to be. There to blether at length about everyone and everything and notably bicycles, as we find a shared love of the Brompton. Apart from its fiddly back wheel which is a nightmare if it needs changed. But I digress, as indeed we did: a most enjoyable couple of hours. And a Söderberg loaf to take home after a photo shoot as a memento.
The rest of Friday rushed past (not that my previous sojourn with LadyF in any way dragged, no no), and after a period of cat-sitting I found myself in the Dreadnought for a teatime pint with my beloved Guardian. And home for the finest of meals. My favourite!