Winding my way down Baker Street

This time, much to my delight, Delta managed to accompany me on my brief jaunt to London. It ended up being a flurried last minute plan - some time to catch up with a few friends, and some time to ourselves showing him my old haunts in the city.

There was Macklaine and crew at Nando's. The entire crew had pitched up, as they always did, and I was touched to tears. (This is the restaurant you keep raving about?! said Delta, when he realised it was just chicken and chips.) In my normal exuberance, I suppose I might have over-hyped the restaurant just a little bit. Still, he couldn't taste in the food the sentimentalism of years and friendships and shared confidences gone by. I guess to him, it really was just chicken and chips.

And then there was Brr at the Borough Market. Brr who I hadn't met in nigh on two years, probably the longest period I'd been apart from her since we'd first met when we were twelve. And after our respectively dramatic past years, there was so much to catch up on. So much that after our bout 0f unceasing chatter (during which Delta politely ceased trying to even get a word in edgewise and simply succumbed to the listening role), there was still an air of unfinishedness.

After which there was Kostka, down at Baker street (Winding My Way down Baker Street hummed Delta as we trudged down there. Perfectly chosen song, although the tune was somewhat dubious; and while he'll undoubtedly blame this on his sore throat, I'd might prefer to postulate otherwise.) And there was the Bart and Nish, and copious amounts of dimsum. Finally, after waiting all this time, I could burst forth with all my questions about Bart's wedding. And about how they were all doing. And their jobs. And their PhDs. And their boyfriends and girlfriends and fiances and husbands. It was a hand-rubbing, smile-winning, heart-warming true girly catch-up sesh, and made me realise how much I'd missed them!

But all too soon, as is always the case, it was time to leave. There's never enough time in London. Not to meet everyone I want to. Not to absorb the familiar sights, smells and sounds of the city. Not to sink in and revel in the comfort and security of the place I still sometimes think of as home.

But of course, inevitably, I'll be back soon. Perhaps this summer. There. Feeling better already.