Last day in London

We go to a friends 70th birthday dinner. At the trendy Chelsea restaurant the young doorman looks us up and down and says ' You must be here for the oldies party '. We confirm that's the case and are escorted to the private room. All the women with the exception of one in a leopard skin cat suit are wearing cocktail dresses and sporting a solitary string of pearls. The men wear the international uniform of blue suits and open necked shirts. The exception ( there is always an exception )  is a duke wearing a dinner jacket, jeans, a tee shirt and Crocs . This is the sort of sartorial insouciance that comes from having a family that arrived with William the Conqueror. A simple Scot from the Isles can only marvel at the self confidence.  In the background this piece of music is playing :https://youtu.be/BfdkQGQ5xpA?list=RDBfdkQGQ5xpA&t=17 Those of a certain age will remember it as the sound of European beach clubs in the 1970's. I always thought the singer sounded as if he was drowning . Conversation is about down sizing, travel, grandchildren and ( among the men ) the number of pills that are taken to dissipate the aches from those decades old rugby injuries.  Krug and a delightful Condrieu soon have the laughter flowing.

Town remains quiet. This mornings news about the breakdown of talks, although expected, doesn't help the vibe. The next 48 hours provide space to course correct.   A friend in Rome is surprised that he was able to wander in and get a table at the roof top bar in the Hotel Raphael in Rome. This is unusual enough for him to call us.  'We watched the sunset in peace'. The quiet it seems  isn't just a London thing. 

The area around Chiltern Street has become the uber trendy part of town. It used to be rather wind swept and dowdy. It has also become home to an ever expanding expatriate community of Swedes who cluster outside the local watering holes. A man is employed to make sure they remain behind the swagger ropes and don't block the pavement. People do what they're told without complaining which is nothing short of miraculous.

We see an immigration enforcement van . The UK's version of ICE. Neither of us has ever seen a van like this before. We're also intrigued by the Waymo self driving Jaguars that are appearing everywhere. From our interest in such things it can be taken for granted that we have segued quietly into country bumpkins. Maybe New Yorkers who move to Connecticut also feel like this. 

Soon we shall be on the train for the five hour journey back to Fife.