The last twenty four hours or so have really served to remind me how much of a home London now is for me. First of all, sitting at home on my computer last night, I heard my doorbell ring. I had just got in from my daily trundle, and was answering emails and preparing for a quiet evening. I got up to answer the door, only to see my two old friends Mitchel and John. They were apparently in the area and had thought that would call in on me to see how I was. Because of the pandemic, it must have been over two years since I had last seen them. Well, the rest of the evening was spent taking, eating and drinking. It really was wonderful to see them. Mitch and I were both amazed at the fact that it has now been eight years since we went to see Monty Python Live; and John was just as bemused to note that it’s now three years since we returned from India. Time really does fly in the metropolis.
Then today, I was out on my trundle, heading across blackheath towards Greenwich . I had stopped to read an information board when a lady suddenly ran up to me. It turned out she was the very same person I had met and got chatting to on a bus about two weeks ago. A sculptor called Margaret Higginson, she had recognised me and had decided to say Hi. It made me feel suddenly very at home in the city, as if the metropolis isn’t so vast after all. Yet such things seem to be happening more and more these days: people recognising me in the street, or inviting me to have a coffee with them in a park. London really is a very welcoming, friendly place, once you get to know it.