Wednesday, November 16/2016

Wake up to summer. Well, Med bright sun. A whole new world with warm breeze. And begin with the boxes, a mildly embarrassing seven of them stored here for the last six months. As well as a clothes drying rack for the balcony. They're in a room on the mezzanine, which is slightly awkward as it's the one floor where the lift doesn't stop. Bit like Christmas opening them up. Some things we've been waiting for, like the mugs and the cd's and player. Others are a surprise. Forgot about the ceramic frying pan. Did we really store two litres of gin?

To Carrefour and Prinos greengrocer for the basics. We still have some whole grain spaghetti, so with onions, tomatoes (fresh and dried), long sweet red peppers a courgette and a few mushrooms there's a sauce. Except we do have seasoning but don't have olive oil - or any other fat. Cheese to grate on top, but....Slow braise of each vegetable in turn with a tiny bit of tahini in with the onions. Not at all bad. Start thinking of how a posh vegetarian restaurant would describe it on the menu. 

Tuesday, November 15/2016

On the move. Too little sleep countered by the slight spurt of adrenalin that always accompanies a travel day. Tube commuter packed to King's Cross St Pancras. Eight twenty train from St Pancras even more sardined, again with commuters. As J says, after conversation is once more possible, it's a bit embarrassing to take up space with even our small suitcases when not everyone on the platform makes it onto the train. Eight coaches this run instead of the usual 12, but thins down quite quickly as we leave central London and plenty of seats out to Gatwick. As usual we're ridiculously early, but see no other way to allow for the unexpected - such as the train out of St Pancras that was cancelled while we were on the platform. Having the fare refunded wouldn't begin to cover the catastrophe regardless of their polite regrets for inconvenience. 

Flight very full. J and I have booked aisle seats opposite each other, as we usually do when there are banks of three on each side. Substantial wait while the luggage for a no show passenger is unloaded. Bright side is that there is now an empty place between me and the young man who has the window seat in our row, which we share amicably between his laptop and my lunch. It's a no frills flight but he, like us, has brought sandwiches. Unlike us, he hasn't brought water, and pays a hefty £2.50 (€2.90, $4.50 CAD) for a cup of tea. Personal opinion is that if you're going to buy onboard it would be better to go for the whisky at £5, only double the tea. However any austerity more than compensated for by the free inflight wifi. Does make you wonder, though, how critical all those warnings were about setting your devices at "airplane", which we followed religiously, even with the bookreader, which I couldn't seriously imagine struggling to connect with electronic shops from the genuine clouds. 

Make up the time with help of a tail wind and only slight delays at immigration. Avoid the queue where a young woman is saying "But this is my ID," in answer to "So you have no passport?" Do get an immigration officer who spends an inordinately long time examining the old (and totally irrelevant) luggage collection stickers on the backs of our passports, none of which are from this flight. Memo to self, remove same during idle moments watching telly. But then we're met by Jane and Bill. So lovely to see their smiling faces at arrivals. Lift "home" and plan for dinner Thursday. Greeted with hugs by Kiki at the Sunflower and given the key to our usual. We're back!

Monday, November 14/2016

Last day. They're digging up the street next to where we're staying, and look like they have been forever. Replacing sewers but not on the every day plan. Loved the elderly lady who walked past the digger machine and said cheerfully "I've always wanted to drive one of those"! 

To the LSE again, this time to hear (Sir) Craig Oliver, former political and communications director to David Cameron, give the insider talk on Brexit, in line with his recent book, Unleashing Demons: the inside story of Brexit. Yes , does seem that some get knighted for failure, though BBC broadcaster and former Times editor Andrew Neil tweets an explanation: "Knighted for ensuring that Cameron+senior cabinet ministers were not interviewed by me in 6 years. Well earned, sir." Fast paced and lots of questions, not all of them tame. Interestingly, he doesn't regard Cameron as having had any option to calling a referendum, given the demands of a deeply divided caucus. He would never have won the leadership without. But, one wonders, aren't there things one ought not to do even at the price of not being leader? Calling a 50%+1 referendum, for example. Oliver's clear belief is that if Cameron had said no they would have chosen another leader who would have done it. He's more surprisingly tolerant of Boris Johnson, saying he was "only pursuing leadership." Indeed. Interesting evening and the theatre packed. The queue formed 40 minutes before it began.

Sunday, November 13/2016

Penultimate day. And so many things we said we'd do and haven't. Have visited all the friends, though, which is the most important, and some of the others are better done in spring when it's (usually) warmer. Bit of shopping and then last meal at Roses. Same sweet waitress who asked, kindly, om Thursday if we wanted "tartar sausage" with our fish. 

By bus to Oxford Street to see the Christmas lights - pretty if premature. We'd been looking forward to the lights on Regent Street - angels suspended across the street with swooping wings. Sadly, they're not turned on. Maybe it really is too early.

Saturday, November 12/2016

Umbrella day, but not cold. The man at the next table at Starbucks is our neighbour of yesterday and we find ourselves continuing our far-ranging discussion on world politics. Most unusually, we not only share an interest in the same themes but have much the same opinions. He's originally from Baghdad but has lived here for 38 years. It's a half hour chat later before we settle down to the electronic use. Later J comments on the large back packs and plastic bag he has carried both days and we find ourselves hoping he's not homeless. Though he did seem too sanguine for that - I hope.

Pick up lamb shawarmas at the little Middle East hole in the wall of a take away on Queensway. They're always busy and it's not bad, though J thinks on the tough side.

Friday, November 11/2016

Over to Thames Ditton to Jenny and Doug's. They're just back from visiting Jenny's father in Cyprus. It's a chance to see Elaine and Phil as well, as they're staying here on their way to reclaim their house in Yorkshire, after house sitting in Australia while there own home was rented out. Lots of chat and a lovely meal prepared by E&P. 

We're lucky too that Giles has brought the girls over, looking smart in their new winter school uniforms. Remembrance Day poppies accompanied, in Jasmine's case, by hair appropriate for "funky hair day" though Leila is more decorous. Laura stops by as well to collect her puppy, who is being dogsat for the day. 

Dinner after they leave - shrimp filled avocado halves, cassoulet, and apple crumble. Lovely.  

Thursday, November 10/2016

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. 

Wednesday, November 9/2016

Wake occasionally through the night to hear the election news. Waiting for Wisconsin. Florida obviously gone. Then it really is morning. And President Trump. So over to Starbucks for strong coffee and bitter analysis. We do indeed live in bizarrely interesting times. Only real advantage we can see is that Trump is not much of a hawk, but that's not a lot to go on with. 

Bit of intellectual diversion in the evening. We've been booked for a week at the London School of Economics for a talk on the future of Yemen. Places by reservation, but they warn that they reserve more places than there are seats, as there are often no shows, so we go early. What we're getting is a presentation prepared for Remote Control of the Oxford Research Group. The presenters are highly informed - Ginny Hill, visiting fellow at the LSE and formerly member of the UN Panel of Experts on Yemen, and Baraa Shiban, who has investigated drone strikes and served as a member of the Yemeni National Dialogue, reviewing Yemen's laws and drafting its new constitution. There is also commentary by Helen Lackner, who lived in Yemen for years and recently wrote a book called Yemen in Crisis: Autocracy, Neoliberalism, and the Disintegration of the State. They're interesting on the subject of military engagement, and place the roots of the conflict in Yemeni society. Not a proxy war - but all the same the Saudis are the largest single customer for US arms. Difficult to assess the effects of Trump's election - he may be less interested in regime change but hard to imagine the businessman wanting to distance himself from profits. We're underinformed on this bit of the Middle East, so it's especially nice that the presentation is accompanied by an impressively produced 20 page book, map and graphs included, a study of wars and arms use in Yemen.

Tuesday, November 8/2016

 

To Trullo, a nice little Italian restaurant a stone's throw from Highbury and Islington tube station. Or would be if one knew which direction to throw the stone. There's confusing and obstructive construction taking place where Holloway meets St Paul's Road in a kind of U bend accompanied by a little park. Eight roads, depending on how you squint at the map, join up by the park. 

But we do negotiate it eventually. We're meeting Alexander for lunch. He's in from his village just south of Cambridge for a number of piano tuning appointments so it's a good chance to meet up. Sadly, the first time we've seen him since Flora died in September. Talk about the past, but also about the present - the American election today and Brexit. Happily for the digestive juices, we're largely in agreement. Not that the meal needs any help. Because it's lunch time, we each choose a different pasta from the primi menu and they're all delicious. Also side salads and a carafe of Italian white. Very nice. 

By the time we get back to the tube station the trains have stopped running in both directions. No explanation. Signal failure? So we take the overground to Kilburn High Road to pick up cheese and biscuits and fruit. Then home.

Begin watching election results but due to time difference there's almost nothing by 1 AM, so take the little battery radio to bed with us.  Taken very seriously by BBC 4 - even displaces shipping forecast!

Monday, November 7/2016

Chilly enough that we're thinking of places to go that don't involve a long, windy walk. Haven't been to the Albert and Victoria in a very long time and it's directly accessible from the tunnel at South Kensington tube station. As are the Science Museum and the Museum of Natural History. 

We're recruited almost immediately by a tour guide and assume initially, and a bit underenthusiastically, that we're getting a general layout of the building for future use. But it's shorter and more fun than that. A look at about ten individual items with historical background, a little humour, and quirky bits of information. Starts with a painted death mask of Henry VII, one which was carried through the streets of London on his coffin. A modest looking man who apparently disliked pomp and ceremony and, according to our guide, a man who often seemed worried. Actually, we can think of more reason for him to worry than she can. He's the man who took the throne from Richard III, and there's good reason to think that the deaths of the princes in the tower were wrongly attributed to Richard by Tudor historians who had good reason to wish to please Henry. But that's another story and not one that we raise.

My favourite of the V&A artefacts is the great bed of Ware, a large bed that dates back to the late fourteen hundreds and was still well known at the time of Shakespeare, with a reference appearing in Twelfth Night. We'd seen the bed before, but the guide has information that is new to us. The bed was located in an inn and it was possible to reserve a place in it - the bed being shared with other travellers, often strangers. Normally, the guide says, the travellers would all be male, although there was one occasion, apparently, when it was booked by a group of eight butchers and their wives - pretty crowded even for such an enormous bed! But it's certainly true, as she says, that privacy is a modern (and possibly western) value. Historically even royalty dressed - and used the toilet for that matter - with others in the room. 

Some of the art in the museum, including enormous "cartoons" by Raphael, paintings made as a preliminary for the production of tapestries, were collected by Charles I, who was quite a collector of great art before his execution. The guide tells us that Oliver Cromwell, his successor, paid tradesmen with works of art - seventy percent of which Charles II managed to get back after the Restoration. 

Sunday, November 6/2016

Up at six because the London to Brighton car rally begins at dawn, shortly after seven. Luckily the starting point is Hyde Park and we're within easy walking distance. As we walk down Bayswater a number of the antique cars pass us on their way to the park. We can hear the rattle as they come up behind us, as they're pretty old. This year's cars have to be built before 1905 to enter. Brave of the drivers, as few of the vehicles have head lamps and it's not still before sunup. Only the owners staying nearby drive to the park. The others, and there are some four hundred of them, trailer their cars in. It's colder than other years - breath visible at times - but we're well layered. I'm wearing my black cashmere pashmina between my wool cardigan and jacket and have gloves as well, although they're impossible to combine with taking photographs. 

There's a huge variety of cars - a few with names still familiar, like Renault, Daimler and Oldsmobile, but many long since buried in automotive archives. Many have been beautifully restored and brightly painted, polished until they gleam, but there are also purists, and an award for the best unrestored car. Some period costumes in evidence, despite the chill air, often contrasting oddly with the mobile phones their passengers are using to record the trip. It will be cold on the road, particularly for those with no windshield, although they are not permitted to go more than 20 mph (and some would have trouble reaching that speed). A few are steam powered, leaving their own trail of white breath in the air, and none have modern emission standards of course - we're definitely breathing intoxicating pollution!

There are some quite sophisticated cars and others so basic that they appear to consist of little more than a wooden base with a seat and a steering stick. And one or two cars raise the question of the basic definition of automobile - when does a motorcycle become a car? Above all the rally is fun. Every one of the watchers has turned up in a cold pre-dawn to watch the world's largest and oldest antique car rally - most years since 1896. And every car is a unique personality, highly individual and preserved with love.

Saturday,nNovember 5/2016

Down to Regent Street for the annual Regent Street automotive show, in conjunction with the London to Brighton car rally. The rally is for cars over a hundred years old, and quite a few of them are represented here. But there are also sparkly new concept cars, racing cars, and electric cars with 250 mile range. 

It"s Guy Fawkes night but cold enough we're not keen on going out to watch fireworkd. Some folks must be,nthough - we can hear them non- stop till midnight or later.

Friday, November 4/2016

Queensway as a barometer of London life. Are times tougher? Whitelys - once a posh department store with history and now a shopping centre - has seven empty shops that we count on the ground floor. Plus a card shop that has signs saying it's closing, sale prices, everything must go. Though that's a bit iffier. The overpriced cards haven't been marked down, though the tackier of the overpriced gifts have. Anything I might be at all interested in remains with original sticker. 

There are occasional beggars on the street, though maybe no more than there used to be. Last year I walked past a tall middle aged man looking for donations and was appalled when he shouted angrily "I know you hate Jews!" Don't know whether I was more horrified at being accused, totally unfairly, of anti-Semitism or, equally unfairly, of selecting recipients of charity by ethnicity or religion. In any case, it certainly hadn't occurred to me that he was Jewish, Jewish beggars being, in my experience, rare to the point of non-existence. Or maybe, as this experience illustrates, I just wouldn't know.

 There are buskers, saxophonists and sometimes a double bass player, but they are considerably more cheerful and can reasonably be classed as self-employed. The kids who used to hang round the tube at night looking for day passes with a little life left in them are gone, probably down to the use of chip cards and oysters (loadable transit cards).

 J points out that each time a shop on the street closes it seems to be replaced with a restaurant or food shop - some ethnic and others mini versions of supermarkets, Tesco and Sainsbury's. Mostly pubs or chains appealing to tourists, of which there are quite a lot more than there used to be. This is not an asset, as tourists raise local prices without improving the quality or distinctiveness of offerings. Our memories of this street go back more than 27 years, and in fact our first meal together was here - in a fish and chip shop long since disappeared.

Thursday, November 3/2016

Christmas songs and cheery red menu at Starbucks. To say nothing of disgustingly sweet candy flavoured coffees. Well, guess it's a matter of taste. They did wait until after Hallowe'en, though not Remembrance Day. Advent, of course, a forgotten concept.

Foray down Goldhawk Road in Shepherd's Bush. There's a stretch of the road that's home to a dozen or two fabric shops, most of which seem to be run by Sikhs. Plenty of attractive, sometimes exotic, material. But as usual I'm looking for black corduroy. Thin on the ground,and most of it with baby fine wale. One of the shop owners explains: heavy weight corduroy is bulky to ship and store - and then people buy teo, maybe three yards. Things are tough. The Chinese are charging more, more than Hong Kong. And Brexit? Of course - the pound is down 20%.

Side trip along Shepherd's Bush Market. It's pretty quiet, though maybe not for a week day. Feels a bit down on its luck, with as many vendors as purchasers. Most of it not high quality, and not underpriced either.  Souvenir mugs for £2 that sell for half that on Queensway. But back on Goldhawk Road we do find some corduroy that may serve the purpose.

Then back to Kilburn for supper. Thursday is kleftiko night at Roses, J's favourite. Roses is often home to elderly single men, but the one sitting next to us is a little beyond eccentric. He's not only talking to himself, he's as convincing as any actor in a one man play. Tonal variation, gestures and all - it's clear he can see a companion on the other side of the table. At times he seems, with a question, to want to draw us into the conversation, and we daren't make eye contact. As I whisper to J, it's not that I mind, but I wouldn't know what to say to "the other guy." There are other reasons for not looking, besides ingrained injunctions going back to childhood regarding the rudeness of staring. A quick glance reveals that his jaw seems to incorporate a defective spring: it drops farther than seems possible and looks like it will be unable to close again - though slowly and improbably it does. 

Wednesday, November 2/2016

Head for the Imperial War Museum. Train inexplicably (well, inexplicably or we haven't been paying attention) doesn't stop at Lambeth North Station, so we get off at Elephant and Castle, which lets us poke around the shopping centre and market - and also discover that the Polish restaurant, Mamuska, which we first assume must have closed, has expanded into premises across the road. So on the list for a future meal.

Short walk over to the museum. There's a World War I exhibit on, which proves to be lmore comprehensive and better than we'd expected. Starts with a bit of a profile of pre-war Britain. The average wage was £1.40 a week, with a pint costing 2p. Well, inflation hits everything, but that means a pint costing 1/70 of a weekly income, so you can calculate from there. Some of the other stats require no conversion. Legal school leaving age was 12, and by 16 only 6% of students were still attending. In the west end of London the average age at death was 55 - in the poorer east end it was 30. So going back to the England that used to be looks a little less attractive than Brexiteers would have it. Some things don't change for the better though - one percent of the population controlled 70% of the wealth. Which in those pre-war days left one person in 20 emigrating in search of a better life. When war broke out, the minimum height for men joining up was 5'3, raised to 5'6 by October as overwhelming numbers volunteered but dropped to 5'2" by July 2015 as the war took its toll.

The display includes weapons, uniforms, battle information, home front social changes. And it stresses the tragic pointlessness as much as the courage and dedication. Over a million killed at the Somme, nearly 20,000 of them on the first day. A battle that was eventually, after about five months, abandoned as hopeless on both sides. Pretty thorough, although, as J points out, one would scarcely have thought Canada was there. Then, after we leave, we see what appears at first to be a modern abstract sculpture. Turns out to be the remains of a car, a vehicle that had not survived an explosion in 2007 Iraq that killed 32 people. Not much progress.

Tuesday, November 1/2016

Tube to West Harrow to visit Jean. J collecting leaves from the plane trees (or sycamores - both have leaves shaped like giant maple leaves). The leaves have turned a golden brown, though, and not red. Temp has dropped to about 11, but guess it is November. Quiet visit with catch up, reminiscing, and curry. Wish it were more than twice a year.

Monday, October 31/2016

  Still a little misty, as befits Hallowe'en, but warm, and the sun's out. Afternoon temperatures hit 18. Down to Charing Cross to activate the renewed UK debit card. Errand accomplished, the warm sun is too much a gift to waste, so we walk over the busy footbridge to the South Bank. Plenty of others enjoying the last of the lovely weather, a few of them in costume, including a small girl dressed in shiny purple as a miniature witch, with father taking photographs. Pick up the brochure at the National Theatre. We'll have to see what we can fit in. Extensive stalls with second hand books, and, my favourite, old photographs and prints. Manage not to buy any - maybe next time. Tube to Kilburn for a bit of shopping at Aldi's and home.🎃

Sunday, October 30/2016

Foggy and overcast. Changed to winter time during the night - two AM to be precise - so actually lighter earlier than it would have been yesterday. London is pretty far north as well (51.5074 degrees), which leads to short winter days, so the time change will mean sunset at 4:35 pm. Do end up wondering what hope there is for world peace when we can't even agree on a universal date for moving the clocks (or indeed whether to do so). 

Camden High Street crowded as usual on a Sunday, when its small tube station is exit only. We emerge to see a street entertainer doing the limbo. He's all performance, shaking dramatically as he passes under the bar, which at this point is high enough that I could do it, but we don't stay for the finale. With Hallowe'en looming we've been encountering grim reapers, clowns and the walking dead on the underground. Here there are, as always on a weekend, throngs of young people overspilling the sidewalk, though there may be more Goths, and are certainly more vampires, than usual. Queues at Lidl stretch all the way to the back of the store - not worth stopping for one jar of sun dried tomatoes despite the attractive 85p (€0.94, $1.37 CAD) price. Back just in time to catch the beginning of Mexican Grand Prix coverage at six.

 

Saturday, October 29/2016

Still mild, though a bit misty. Tube and Dockland Light Railway to Greenwich, a bit slower and more crowded because, as usual on a weekend, service is suspended on several lines and the remaining ones are overburdened. The market is buzzing - ethnic foods and some pretty imaginative crafts - like glass liquor bottles, flattened heaven only knows how to serve as plates or bases for clocks. Also jewellery, cartoons, old photographs, scarves, carvings, etc. We're only a short block from Goddard's, the pie shop that has been family run in Greenwich for over a hundred years. It used to be a classic, cheap and delicious pies with mash and peas, fruit crumbles, gravy or custard (depending) overflowing. Not health food exactly, but superb comfort food served at long scrubbed wood tables with large mugs of tea or bottled beer. After a bit of family upheaval it closed briefly and then moved from its original premises a couple of blocks away. It's never quite recovered, though. Prices have, understandably, risen - they do over time - but the food is not quite what it was. Pies are definitely smaller, with a higher ratio of crusts to content. Servings of everything are diminished. Some of the original basics, like peas, have become extra. It's crowded as of old, the queue reaches the door, so it's hard to argue with the economics, but the assumption is that the patrons are not old locals. Last time we were here the server had no knowledge of the previous location. It's just another Greenwich eating spot. We may not be back.

On the packed train coming home an Asian woman offers me her seat, and I accept gratefully as I'm carrying bags with two bottles of wine. A stop or two later she gets a seat but promptly offers it to J, who is carrying four bottles of wine, but much more discreetly than I. Naturally he declines. She does succeed a little later in giving the seat to a woman with a small child. Confirmation of my entirely unscientific observation that seats are most frequently offered by young Asian men, followed closely by young Asian women.

Friday, October 28/2016

Cyclamen from the corner flower sellers (small pot for £1) brightening our room. Lovely moving back into a room that we've stayed in so often that we know where things go as we unpack. Delighted to find that the pay as you go mobile is still working. It's supposed to be good for six months non-use without dying, but it's been six months plus a day, so had low expectations. Think there was about £9 ($14.58 CAD) on it, so that should more than cover more than the three weeks we're here for this time and take us well into next spring's stay.

Super weather. Temp midday about 16 or 17. Light jackets. Up Kilburn High Road. No major signs of financial disaster and prices don't seem to have risen much - though some packages may have shrunk a little in order to remain the same price. As usual, fruit and veg bought on the street corners a much better deal than those in supermarkets. £1 for half a kilo of red grapes - one of the easier fruits to keep for snacking with no kitchen facilities. Earlyish supper at Roses. Cod and chips, excellent as always. High proportion of Roses' [yes, the apostrophe is in the right place] patrons are elderly singles, clearly regulars. Women usually in pairs or part of a couple. The men engaging in what I think of as pub style socialising. They concentrate on the meal or read a paper while they eat - there's a few newspapers near the till for the purpose - but there are sporadic bits of chat about sport or events, and it seems the blokes know each other. The singles are known to the East European waitresses too, and leave to a cheery "see you tomorrow".