Bit showery as we go to Westminster Cathedral and a couple of shops nearby to look at cards. As we emerge we pass four young men sitting on the damp pavement, two of them with the plastic of the rough sleeper protecting them from the cold concrete. They're not paying attention to us but break out into "We wish you a Merry Christmas." Current soliciting or practising for the festive season?
To St Pancras Station to pick up the train tickets to get us to Gatwick on Tuesday. As we pass the first electronic departure board J notices the bright pink cancelled signs are next to almost all the departing trains, not only the Thameslink ones or only the southbound. Not too encouraging for those about to buy train tickets, and in fact the girl at the sales wicket says she hopes that there will be better service on Tuesday. As do we, of course, but the signs apologising for technical problems say November that the delays may continue to 10, which is today, so fingers crossed. The station has three pianos in the main concourse, which can be played by anyone who wishes. Happily, they're usually used by people with some ability. As we pass one pianist is being filmed in action.
Last stop is meant to be Indian Veg restaurant at Chapel Market. We tried to go there on Sunday only to see a sign saying that they were closed for renovations and be told, cheerfully, that they're due to open the next day. This seems to have been optimistic, if not downright untruthful, as they're still shut, still declaring themselves under renovation. They have replaced the sign, raising the buffet price by 55p to a still very reasonable £7.50, but no indication now of opening date. So plan B becomes a last stop at Roses - not an unattractive proposition as Thursday's special is always lamb kleftiko.
Except that it isn't. When we get there the young (east European?) waitress tells us that it's finished - was gone by one o'clock. The owner elaborates. There are a finite number of rhe daily special prepared freshly, and when they're gone, they're gone. As, for example, Tuesday's chicken curry, which a group of workers consumed before noon. We tell him, truthfully, that it is the best kleftiko we've tasted, better than Greece or Cyprus. He's conciliatory: next time we can phone and ask to have two portions reserved. His business card has the number. So we settle for the cod and chips, which is, in all fairness, very good. As we leave, two women at the next table engage us in conversation. They're Irish and they're regulars, like so many of Roses' customers. In fact Kilburn itself, as the name suggests, was originally an Irish district, though it now looks more Caribbean and Middle Eastern. The owner here is Turkish and quite pleased about the Trump win - a country should look after itself first. But what about banning Moslems from the country? Oh that - he waves a hand airily - that's just talk. A reminder of the observation that journalists didn't take Trump seriously but did take him literally - as in how could he in practice deport all illegal Mexicans - whereas Trump's followers took him seriously but not literally.
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