Well, that was a largely forgettable week. Cold, wet and miserable. Particularly on Wednesday. What was otherwise a good trip over to Blighty (flights on time, survived encounter with the law) was completely spoiled by the cauchemardesque ending to the norf london derby. One of the great premiership games, they're calling it. Great if you're not of the red & white persuasion.
A warning not to loiter with intent around airports. Was waiting for my chauffeur at Stansted on Wednesday evening, at a place not officially designated for picking up, when a car with yellow & blue livery pulls up. Polite policeman rolls down the window, asks what I'm doing, and asks to see ID. Radioing my name through evidently produces the information that I'm not on the most wanted list, and he kindly tells me he hopes I don't have to wait in the cold for my lift much longer. I'd thought I was out of view of any of the sundry CCTV cameras as well...
And so on to this weekend. Hopefully I'll have finished sulking by this evening, when guests JeB and Dr S arrive for the weekend winefest. The annual Salon des Vignerons Indépendants takes place over the next few days. Perfect for sorrows, the drowning of...
