Observation on public transportation: young white men are theleast likely people to give up their seats to the elderly - or to me, not that I require it. I do have seats offered tome more than in previous years though, for whatever reason. The most likely to give up seats are Asian men of almost any age, followed by young Middle Eastern men and young Asian women, followed (at some distance) by young white women. Observations unscientific but accurate, I think.
Tube to Camden Town and then bus to Hampstead Heath, as we've noted that our one year tickets to Keats House expire on Sunday. the house is the one Keats lived in with a friend just before his final illness sent him to Italy in search of a warm climate and a cure. His fiancée, Fanny, lived in the other half of the house, since made into one. Even though we've been before, it's a moving experience, and interesting too for things like the 18th century kitchen and the sole water supply from a cistern on the roof to a lead sink. Add this to a diet which seemed to consist mostly of meat and white bread (vegetables having only recently been declared not dangerous) and it's hardly surprising that so many people succumbed to disease, quite apart from the lack of modern medicine.
Supper at an Asian buffet by the Kilburn High Road tube station. Not exciting, but not at all bad. Chicken satay very nice. Spring rolls and samosas pretty useless.
Last bit home is the tube from Notting Hill Gate to Bayswater. A man gets into our carriage and grabs three abandoned Evening Standards. He's not quite quick enough to jump off before the doors close, so, having been obliged to come to Bayswater, he alights and rummages through two litter bins, retrieving several more copies of the Evening Standard to add to at lest ten in his bag. J suggests that he may want extra copies of a particular article, and it's plausible, but the paper is distributed free and theman looks obsessed.
Tube to Camden Town and then bus to Hampstead Heath, as we've noted that our one year tickets to Keats House expire on Sunday. the house is the one Keats lived in with a friend just before his final illness sent him to Italy in search of a warm climate and a cure. His fiancée, Fanny, lived in the other half of the house, since made into one. Even though we've been before, it's a moving experience, and interesting too for things like the 18th century kitchen and the sole water supply from a cistern on the roof to a lead sink. Add this to a diet which seemed to consist mostly of meat and white bread (vegetables having only recently been declared not dangerous) and it's hardly surprising that so many people succumbed to disease, quite apart from the lack of modern medicine.
Supper at an Asian buffet by the Kilburn High Road tube station. Not exciting, but not at all bad. Chicken satay very nice. Spring rolls and samosas pretty useless.
Last bit home is the tube from Notting Hill Gate to Bayswater. A man gets into our carriage and grabs three abandoned Evening Standards. He's not quite quick enough to jump off before the doors close, so, having been obliged to come to Bayswater, he alights and rummages through two litter bins, retrieving several more copies of the Evening Standard to add to at lest ten in his bag. J suggests that he may want extra copies of a particular article, and it's plausible, but the paper is distributed free and theman looks obsessed.
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