Saturday, January 17, 2015
A lengthy kiss.
Finally back to London. Bright spells interrupted by bracing wintry showers.
The Frenchwoman in the flat has complained to the letting agent about a leak. Angus goes to see what the problem is. It's condensation on the underside of the hot water boiler. The Frenchwoman has set the thermostat at orchid growing levels. I tell her it's condensation. She asks me what I intend to do about it. For the briefest of moments Angus is lost for words.
In the Square they've pulled down a row of Georgian houses and replaced them with a new mock-Georgian corporate headquarters. There's something about it that's out of proportion with the buildings around. Heritage on steroids. This is presumably 'sensitive' redevelopment.
The flower seller outside the church provides an unseasonal burst of colour. At the bookseller there's a paperback about testing your dogs intelligence. By page eight it's clear where the angelic duo stand. Neither can be classed as an undiscovered genius - unless you count their ability to recognize the word 'sausage' in eight five languages.
Home. Sophie, who usually greets me with a '' Oh ! It's you " look, is intent on giving me a long kiss. Seeing her muzzle and paws I do my best to refuse.