Friday 12 October 2007

flying north from Stansted - I must use the train more often, there's no excuse
This morning I sat in Ossie's barber shop in Camden, being expertly and soothingly separated from most of my hair, watched by photos of shorn Jonathan Miller, Alan Bennett and (Sir) Trevor McDoughnut, and also by Sara M-P (the real one, not a photo) eating baklava and drinking tea provided thoughtfully by Ossie himself. There was then time to enjoy the sculptures in Regent's Park before meeting Fiona Fraser at Tate Modern to look at the crack in the floor, and feast from wonderful bento boxes on the Stansted express. This seemed like a very good way to spend a morning off, which I'd built into my diary quite deliberately to stop me from working for a few hours.

Fiona and I were in London last night for reasons too bizarre to recount here, but it was a great excuse to meet John and Bar Purser (who'd flown in from Pisa) for an excellent dinner, with Matt Parkin and John's sister Geraldine. Duck gizzards passed my lips for what I think was the first time.