Friday 22nd February
I am sitting in a Starbucks at St. Pancras. I who abandoned Starbucks and before the tax scandal too; I abandoned them during the Olympics because they were incapable of serving fresh croissants. And even today, here at what must be one of their busiest outlets the croissant is a bit stale. Irony of ironies, the coffee palace I abandoned them for was Pret, and as I sit here disconsolately munching a tasteless almond croissant I can see a new Pret just across the station forecourt.
I am waiting for my daughter Laura and my granddaughter Imogen. They are on a train which I have to join, going to Gatwick. We are flying to France today. She has arranged it all, and we are flying into Bordeaux, which will be a change from the tiny Bergerac, then we are hiring a car and driving to Eymet.
At last a return to my spiritual home. Julia and the dogs are already there, having driven down nearly a week ago. How wonderful to be a teacher and have all those holidays. Almost worth putting up with the brats for. The weather there is similar to here, but maybe a touch warmer. But I just cannot wait to see the little town again. The boulangerie, the Café de Paris and Kismet, and le Pub Gambetta.
London is changing so fast, despite the recession cranes are still building high-rise flats all over. Strange that in the seventies and eighties everyone wanted to get out of high-rise flats, and now that they are all private and cost a fortune people cannot snap them up quick enough.
So, off to France, and a word of warning. Internet access is flaky so your daily blog may be late in appearing some days. Which may of course come as a relief to many.