Second sign of winter: drinking red wine at lunch time. A long time since I’ve done this, and I forgot how much it can make the ears and cheeks burn in the afternoon. Feel like I need a few buckets of water over my head. And it’s 4 hours since I finished drinking.
(this entry follows on from the last one, as so many do. Which makes it kinda irritating that Blogger will place them the other way around, but at the same time I’d hate to have it any other way)
Sitting on the train, a family come to occupy the 3 seats nearby. They ask the fellow already occupying the 4th seat whether he minds if they don’t smoke, and he says of course not, as long as they don’t mind if he does. Or (once they produce snacks), if they don’t mind his passive eating.
Continue reading Cool dad on the train
Time is the greatest luxury. But it’s pretty fucking hard to buy. No, that wasn’t quite it. Well, my thoughts were something like that, while I was dining away in a very pleasant brasserie, but sadly I didn’t take them down at the time (of course, I coulda wapped them, but it seemed a bit rude in the circumstances, and a bit silly given that my mobile battery would most likely have expired halfway through)
So how did I discover this? I missed the train. No, hang on, that wasn’t it…
Continue reading Time is the greatest luxury.
Walking through the alleys around Leicester Square, I was reminded of lunch with Chris some 2 years ago. Things were still good then, expense accounts were still easily abused, and although I got the impression that although Chris was very fond of his expense account (he took me for lunch to discuss his company’s specialised offering, having already met my colleagues on a day when I was detained elsewhere) he was not the type to spend it profligately. Instead he would make a virtue of tracking down hearty value-for-money bistros around town, balancing minimum expense against maximum quality. He was also a connoisseur of wine. Not in the respect that he would intimidate you with his vast knowledge, or make a sideshow out of choosing a bottle, but in that delightful paternalistic manner that takes great pleasure in spreading knowledge to others. He was one of those old-school public-school not-quite-Oxbridge arts/humanities type that knows how to live life enjoyably, but sadly will find it increasingly hard to get by in today’s economic climate.