OK, so who's made off with my comments? I lay the blame firmly at the feet of Blogger, who first of all printed a very respectable and interesting number of them at the end of my last Post, and then 'disappeared' them last night, just as I was sitting down to answer them. I know it will be no use whatsoever getting in touch with the "Customer Service" department, having heard the comments of various of my Blogging Friends regarding the lack of response they have experienced in the past. I suppose I just have to lump it - but what else is going wrong I wonder? Perhaps my precious comments will suddenly reappear (and they are precious to me), but if not, where oh where have they gone? Are they floating in cyberspace somewhere, with no home to go to? (I can feel a teardrop ready to fall.) It's experiences like this that make me realize just how hopeless I am in technological terms. I wouldn't know where to begin to look for the missing little blighters. Oh to be an anorak, or a geek at this moment. Come back all you unsuitable and (previously considered) boring boyfriends of yore, all is forgiven if you can just sort out my Blog for me and find my missing, and much missed, comments.
Yesterday I ventured up to the Big Smoke again for the day. It was long overdue. I had been promising myself a mooch around Peter Jones again in search of a couple of things. And I was also looking forward to seeing Son and to meeting up with Sister to return a few things she had left here on her last visit. I started with a cup of coffee in Peter Jones, just as it started to pickle down with rain, but sitting in their coffee shop in the sky is a delight, whatever the weather. Then I wandered down through the floors, finding something to love in each department, but sadly no Shower Radios. Years ago darling Daughter bought me a Sea Horse-shaped Shower Radio which fixed to the bathroom tiles by means of a suction cup, and allowed me to listen to either T. Wogan or Womans Hour while in the shower or the bath. Bliss. But it sadly gave up the ghost (or the horse) a while ago, so I really wanted to replace it. And I do love Sea Horses; many years ago, when I was swimming in the Mediterranean off Cannes, I looked down through the clear blue water to see a little Sea Horse swimming cheerfully along in front of me. It was the dearest little thing, and I fell in love on the spot. Since then, anything Sea Horsey just does it for me. (I have to say that that part of the Mediterranean probably isn't the place to see Sea Horses any more - too dirty and polluted.) Anyway, no luck there. And because I was meeting Son for lunch, I didn't have time to take a good look at the Microwave Ovens (mine is ancient and really needs replacing). By this time, it was sheeting down with rain, and my sparkly 5 Euro pumps were soaking wet and about to fall apart, so I jumped on a bus. Big mistake. Big traffic jam. So I jumped off again and caught the tube, which got me to Soho on time, if drowned rattish-looking. Son's new office is right in Soho, which brought back rafts of memories. When Sister and I worked in Advertising we were in Soho day and night, either working or playing, so it all looked very familiar. Nothing much seems to have changed. I met Son's new work colleagues, who were very nice indeed, and then we walked round to a Sushi restaurant for lunch. This was my first experience of Sushi, which Son found hard to credit, but I did enjoy it. I ate smoked salmon with chilli sauce, some divine spicy little dumplings, something called crystal rolls with unrecognizable stuff inside them, and some gorgeous prawns in tempura batter. I turned down the raw beef and the other raw fish, which Son hoovered up enthusiastically, and we finished up with Creme Brulee (not very Japanese, but very good). We had a great talk too - time spent with him is so precious as it's pretty rare now. He's working hard, but happily so. And he's comfortable in his new home. After lunch, and a hug goodbye, I whisked off to Patisserie Valerie to meet Sister for a cup of tea. Another blast from the past. It hasn't changed a whisker. Same pictures on the walls (and the same paint by the look of it - nicotine coloured) and the same array of wonderful pastries and chocolates on tempting display. I did resist them, as I'd just eaten, and afterwards we wandered back through Soho, recalling old friends and old times. My feet were killing me by the time I got to sit down on the train home. But it was worth it - all in all, it was a lovely day.