Time change throughout Europe, though not North America, and my usual lament that if the time is going to change seasonally it would be much more convenient if the world could agree on a date. World peace may be unachievable but surely the end of summer time could be negotiated. Wake up, look at my tablet and think, complacently, that it must actually be an hour earlier until it occurs that the ipad has quietly made all necessary adjustments and only my watch needs human attention.
Out earlyish - well nine - as we’re on our way to Thames Ditton to have Sunday lunch with Jenny and Doug. Had thought that there was no market Sundays on our road but see as we open the door that on the contrary it is much more extensive than on weekdays, extending down past our flat, seemingly mostly farmers’ market at our end. They’re still setting up, but not particularly happily as it’s raining. Not only makes the work less pleasant but will discourage Sunday shoppers.
Tube to Waterloo station, where we’re fairly early for the train as they’re only once an hour on Sundays. Wait not without diversion though. Some young dancers are setting up entertainment and, much more unusual, there is a man of unknown motives carrying a sign with a swastika and another with a picture of Mickey Mouse.
Lovely meal. Could say traditional Sunday lunch except it goes well beyond any we’ve experienced, all the way from roast chicken to crème caramel and a cheese plate. Good company too. Jenny’s cousin Elaine and her husband Hugh have joined us. Conversation as much a pleasure as the food. And Emma stops by afterward with her girls and Cody, the grandchildren all seeming much older, unsurprisingly as it’s been more than two and a half years.
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