Tigger was working in Harrow-on-the Hill today, knocking off at 1:30 pm. As there were no builders, plumbers, inspectors or managers queuing to get into the flat (an unusual occurrence these days), I betook myself to said destination to meet her from work. I timed the journey well, emerging from the tube station at 1:09, leaving enough time to have a quick look around the shops and admire the Golden Lady on the facade opposite the bus station. I like the Golden Lady: on a sunny day she sparkles most becomingly though today, grey and dull as it was, she looked a little sad.
The plan was to go to Pinner for lunch. We visit Pinner from time to time as it is a rather charming place. Now suffering under the weight of suburbitis, it must once have been a quaint and agreeable little town comfortably far away from London and even today it bears traces of this halcyon past. It’s best to visit it on a warm sunny day in spring, say, rather than a dull December afternoon but even so it is a nice place to go for lunch. If you have time, walk up the road and take a look at the stained glass windows in the church.
As I say, it was lunch rather than devotional glass that was on our minds so we began by looking at the menu of the first restaurant we came to but then Tigger spotted Café Rouge and that was it: decision made.
We like Café Rouge. Its menu is pretty simple and there’s not a lot of choice if you are a vegetarian so we don’t go there often but it is enjoyable when we do. I like the faux français decor (spot the spelling mistakes on the windows) and the quirky paintings on the wall. Half-closing my eyes and ignoring the East European accents of the waiters, I can almost imagine I am in a café in France. I am afraid I once made a terrible faux pas: I addressed the waiter in French. I don’t know which of us was the more embarrassed.
The food is quite good, I think. I won’t bore you with our menu except to say that Tigger ate her French onion soup as if it were purest nectar of the gods and afterwards we had dessert. Tigger chose vanilla cheesecake and I had the chocolate tart with raspberry coulis. Naughty, naughty.
We bussed it back to Harrow on the Hill and then waited for the 223. The bus station was crowded because by now it was chucking-out time for the schools and building up to rush-hour. We waited for the 223 and then we waited some more. Buses pass through that station at an amazing rate. It’s quite breath-taking. Unfortunately, none of them was the 223. We began to suspect that this was a mythical or virtual bus rather than an actual bus with real rubber tyres and a diesel engine. So we diverted to the tube. Tigger woke me up at Baker Street for -yes (blush) – I nodded off. It must have been the raspberry coulis. At Baker Street we boarded a number 30 bus and fought for seats on the upper deck. Being quick and unscrupulous helps.
When we arrived home, we found that one of the drips had shifted slightly and was therefore missing the receptacle. Both were running at reduced frequency (like the 223 bus) and, in fact, the new drip had ceased altogether. This is rather worrying as it makes you wonder where the water is going now.
There was a heap of mail on the doormat (or, rather, where the doormat would be if there were a doormat), so I scooped it all up and and sorted it into piles for the respective addressees. One item in particular took my attention as it was addressed to Silas and was machine-franked. I guessed this was the famous letter warning him of the impending visit of the avenging hosts aka the council’s representatives tomorrow. So he is as yet unaware of the wrath to come.
Tomorrow should be fun.