Last morning in London. Am sitting in an ostensibly Italian restaurant called 'La Barca' around the corner from J-'s apartment but I had trouble finding anything Italian on the menu besides my cafe latte. The place, like many in the neighbourhood, is run by Turks which is fine by me because I have an intense and long-standing desire to visit Turkey. I also noticed, after I sat down, that aside from the waitress, I am the only woman in the restaurant but in a very non threatening way. Across the street is a Western Union office called Cedi House. The discussion towards the back of the cafe is becoming heated - hand gestures chopping through the air and a random elderly gentleman feels compelled to add his voice to the debate.
The trip up north was fantastic. I kept saying that, day after day, "this is fantastic!" It is so rare to be truly happy and to be aware of it at the same time. Here, therefore, are the ingredients for happiness as defined by myself: 1) a bicycle 2) changing landscape, sometimes shrouded by fog and cloud and sometimes dramatically exposed 3) sheep 4) good company 5) financial security such that fancy B&Bs don't leave a tightening in the chest, so that supper can be appreciated and not choked down 6) cheap and varied drink 7) physical exertion (see 1) 8) good health. There it is , the recipe for pure undiluted joy. Northumberland and Cumbria crossed coast to coast on Hadrian's cycle path. And today, Paris.
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