The Geffrye museum has finally reopened (June 12), except now it’s called Museum of the Home and, as with any museum at the moment, you have to book ‘a slot’ to go in. Luckily for me, it’s close to home and also very close to my physiotherapist.
People have questioned me, Museum of the Home, what does that mean? Built in an area that once boasted many furniture makers, in almshouses from 1714, it originally showed ‘the middle class’ interiors through time. As well, there were always modern exhibits of how people lived in their own spaces. When the museum closed to renovate, there was an opportunity to put a bigger focus on the latter. The larger space can now house events and classrooms.
I have gone to the museum over many years and I’ve done the almshouse tour. But my favourite has always been Christmas time. And before Christmas I’ve gone to the wreath workshops, then afterwards to the Twelfth Night celebrations. I went soon after they closed for a hardhat tour and was really looking forward to seeing the finished renovation. The links are all to past blogs mentioning these visits.
On its very first day of reopening, the museum encountered opposition.
There has been a lot of controversy about the statue of Robert Geffrye which stands outside. Geffrye had connections with the forced labour and trading of enslaved Africans and it was money from his estate that allowed the building of the almshouses that now house the museum. There has been a demand for the statue to be taken down, indeed all statues and memorials to those involved with slave ownership. Despite the protests, the museum’s Board of Trustees decided in July 2020 to leave the statue where it is and contextualise it. The day of the reopening, there were protests by Hackney’s Stand Up To Racism group.
I wasn’t sure if our visit might be disrupted by the protests when we went the next day, but it was quiet.
There’s a new entrance now, at the back of the almshouses, by the Hoxton Overground station. We arrived by bus at the front of the almshouses so had to walk around the block to get in. I believe that there would normally be an entrance from that direction, but like many places the museum is operating a one-way system – so in at the back, out at the front.
HRNX art seen from Cremer StreetMolly’s Café, on the corner of Cremer and Geffrye Street, is now the museum’s café. It’s in a once-derelict Victorian pub, The Marquis. It’s named after Molly Harrison, a museum curator and educator in the 40s and 50sAs Victorian as Molly’s Café is at the front, the back is 21st century (notice the clear ghost sign beyond it)Gordon Fabrics ghost sign on Cremer StreetOn the right is Hoxton Overground Station, in the left foreground is Molly’s Café, and further along – opposite the station – the new museum entranceThe entrance to the museum is the lovely atrium where the café used to be. We were greeted by a young woman who checked us in and sent us on our way
We started on the lower floor, on the one-way system. This lower floor is what was made during the renovations. It features how people live and what home means to them, in terms of culture, religion, and comfort. During the hardhat tour I couldn’t imagine what would go in there but many old spaces had been uncovered and I really like this ‘new’ area. The chance to see how everyone creates their own space is really welcome.
Ethelburga Tower is an exhibit I had seen years ago at the museum. There’s a nod to it here. The exhibit showed how identical council flats in a tower block (apartment building) were used and furnished differently by each tenant. I find it fascinatingA collection of floor/vacuum cleaners throughout time
One of the most fascinating things in the museum is the John Evelyn Cabinet, purchased by its owner in 1644. Sounds like it was in the V&A before. I wouldn’t want it in my house but it’s an elaborate work of art, which would make any cabinetmaker cry with envy. Its description is as elaborate as the woodwork, but in brief it’s an ebony veneered oak cabinet made up of many drawers, fourteen of which were secret. It was probably bought in Florence during a European ‘grand tour.’ John Evelyn was an English writer, gardener and diarist. I’ll let you read more about the cabinet yourself. If you’re a cabinetmaker, you can read about the construction in detail here. For me, even without its astounding appearance and construction, it is of significant importance. In 1813 diaries were discovered in one of the secret drawers. They were published in 1817. Although Samuel Pepys’s diaries are more celebrated, Evelyn’s diaries came first and probably prompted the attention given to Pepys’s. I’ve read neither so there’s a challenge!
John Evelyn’s Cabinet. My photo won’t do it justice so check it out from this page.In this room you could play classic videogames on an old TV setMe being me, this is my favourite thing downstairs, a doll from the almshouse time. Maybe not an artifact but a new one, but I love it
This is the saga of going to Southend for our first overnight visit since September 2019. When I started writing it out, I thought it would be a short one. I was wrong.
I suppose we all romanticise about how a holiday will be. This one had a pretty rocky start – let the fortune telling begin.
We hadn’t seen my aunt, who will be 94 this summer, since late 2019. We both knew that, once we were vaccinated and things weren’t so weird, it would be our first visit anywhere. Krish suggested that we spend overnight in a hotel and see her for a short time on both days. We were a bit back and forth, to make sure everything fit – we were going for two days, we were going for one day, he wasn’t going at all, he might come for a bit – and then there we were, on our way.
But first there was a railcard glitch. Railcards are a great thing. There are various kinds, but each will give you 30% off train travel. Ours was a Two Together card – as long as we travelled together we got the discount. I let this one lapse over the pandemic, so I couldn’t simply renew it and reuse the old photos. Many snaps later against a pale background and I created my digital card with our photos. I needed to get an app for my phone and then I could open it if I were asked. Only the app wouldn’t download. I tried many times over the next few hours. Krish tried it too and had no luck with his phone. The morning we were to travel, I tried again and gave up after a couple of hours. With any luck, no one would ask for our card.
Krish left for his appointment at Guys and half an hour later I left to wait for him at Liverpool Street Station.
Liverpool Street Station is busier these days. I sat near platform 12I love the roof at Liverpool Street Station
Then another setback. Krish’s appointments have been brief and he’d booked earlier than usual so that we could get away around 11am. It was unlikely we could get the 11:06 train but the 11:33 seemed promising. At 10:57 he texted ‘very busy here today, the wait is at least an hour.’ I let my aunt know that not only would we be late but that we might not be able to get the fish and chips she always asked for. They close from 2-4:30pm. Nothing to do but relax in the station with a drink.
And I tried the app again. It downloaded quickly the first time. So much for my internet provider at home. Time to switch!
Then at 11:18 another text ‘finished, just getting dressed’. we’d missed the 11:33 so took the 11:54. It was the hottest day of the year, at 30C but the train was a new, air conditioned one. We sat in first class, no one bothered us.
On his way to meet me, Krish ran into some sample people – there was iced coffee or gelato. This is what he chose, being a chocoholic. We shared it on the train – Hackney Gelato, of course. In this heat it turned liquid after a whileArriving at Southend Victoria Station. Wearing the mask the whole time wasn’t so bad. I switched to a lighter, disposable one
While Krish went for fish and chips, I walked on to my aunt’s. She lives on the top floor of a house. I think she owns the whole house, but I’m not quite sure. The bottom is rented out. This area is quite suburban and doesn’t feel like it’s only one mile from the shore.
It’s hard to see my aunt look smaller and thinner. It makes me realise that, although these journeys are hard, there won’t be many more of them, if at all. We spent the afternoon eating our fish and chips, sitting while she watched tennis at Queens, and chatting about times gone by. It felt like only yesterday that we’d done this before, and at the same time a very long time ago. The plan was to come back for a brief visit the next day, so off we went to our hotel saying we could play it by ear and call her in the morning to see what she wanted to do
At the bus stop where my aunt lives. This is a new build. We’ve seen it being built over the years. Even this old suburban area is changingOn my aunt’s street. It’s a pretty dayThe two-tone house is our destinationWe always order the same thing – two pieces of haddock, a large chips. It’s the nicest we’ve had anywhere and the pieces of fish are really large.
We took two buses to the hotel. the second one had a really grumpy driver who just grunted when I asked if he were headed the right way. We seemed to be going far out of our way but I got off when my bus app prompted me and there it was, right besides us, the Premier Inn.
I’d wanted to stay somewhere fancier really, but this was cheap and basic for one night. I took no photos of the room. Once in, it was nap time.
We were in a hotel right on the Eastern Esplanade. This was the view from the landing near the lift.And this was the gorgeous view from our roomPremier Inn, Eastern Esplanade, built in the old gasworks
We woke up around 8pm and started the process of finding some dinner. Definitely not burgers, maybe a milkshake, though. The hot day had turned a bit cooler, but a walk might be nice, to see what we could see.
One interesting sight when leaving the hotel were two big concrete blocks. We looked closer. They had been put here in 1940 during World War II.
The War Office had seen how flat the Southend foreshore was, the gentle slope to the beach leading up to a sloping seawall and then on to the footpath and onto the road, many roads coming off leading to the heart of Southend would have offered any invading force an easy way to encroach deep in land, setting up a beach head for further landing.
Southend is very flat and during war times the slope that the beach makes would have made it easy for invading forces to creep up on the town. To help prevent this happening, the War Office built 1,804 concrete anti-tank blocks long the entire length of the seafront on the edge of the esplanade. They strung barbed wire between them. This must have been an incredible sight. The beach itself was lined with scaffolding intertwined with more barbed wire.
When the war was over, the structures were removed, and the blocks were destroyed leaving only two, opposite the gas works, now the Premier Inn. However, on 31st January 1953 there was a huge storm, bringing large quantities of water from the Atlantic and the North Sea southwards. To make things worse, the storm was reaching its peak just as high tide was due. The storm surged 5.6 meters above normal sea levels. There was flooding at the Kursaal, Gasworks, Esplanades and roads along the seafront.It was worse nearby and 59 people were killed at Canvey. After this disaster, a raised seawall was built. We were walking beside it.
“On the threat of invasion by the German Forces in 1940, 1804 of these concrete blocks were constructed on this sea front as part of the coastal defences.”
The walk beside the sea wall started out quietly. Southend is one of those seaside towns that must once have been genteel. I imagine ladies in long skirts and hats strolling by the beach with their parasols. I imagine that more than I imagine rowdy kids, red-faced dads with their trousers rolled up and handkerchiefs knotted on their heads, exactly like the naughty postcards that were around when I was younger. Today I’d describe Southend as a tacky seaside resort. It has a dark yellow sand, and when the tide is out, it seems like it goes out for miles. Britain’s beaches can be like that. I have very fond memories of such beaches, waiting till dark and going out with our buckets and spades and digging for cockles, which made a lovely late dinner. There were people out there now, digging. There are arcades, ice cream shops, kiosks selling burgers, hot dogs, chips, candy floss in little plastic buckets, big round lollipops in lurid colours, sets of buckets and spades, cheap sunglasses, plastic fishing nets…but i didn’t see any sticks of rock.
I love being by the sea. As afraid as I am of water, I feel alive near bodies of water. Is it the London in me? I’m not sure. My father loved to swim, although rarely did as he grew older. I never learned how, much to dad’s exasperation and disappointment. My grandfather was a dedicated fisherman, and I often went with him on his fishing days, stopping to buy mealworms from the tackle shop – I remember they were packed in screw top tins and I’d peer at them crawling around together. And now I love the smell of the ocean. I could wake up to it every day and never tire of it, I think. When I said so, Krish surprised me by saying how much he hated it. Wow.
Southend has the longest pleasure pier in the world at 1.33 miles. You can walk along it, or you can take a little train the whole way. I haven’t done this for a very long time and I wasn’t doing to this time either. It will cost you £5.60 to take the train, £2 to walk! The link above will tell you more than you need to know – the fishing, the crazy golf, the fairground rides, the museum… and it will show you the photos that are more pristine than my own.
We’d taken a path beyond the road, closer to the beach. As we walked, it got louder and more crowded. There were loads of kids, small and larger crowds. The Essex accents filled the air loudly, the swearing, the arguing, the slightly drunken chats. We left the path and went back to the main street.
Over the raised sea wall, the tide was going out. You can see the dark yellow sand, the almost-muddy shell-strewn shelf, and the pier stretching out in the middle of the photoThe view as we walked west along the Eastern EsplanadeAcross one of the carparks, we could see a large gathering. We stayed well clear.
None of the diners or kiosks had anything we wanted. There was plenty of fish and chips, of course – the mainstay of any British seaside town. We settled on a takeout from a Chinese restaurant not too far from the hotel. It had a large dining room and smaller section for takeout. The food was terrible but not too terrible – the usual soupy mess that passes for good Chinese food here in the UK. We ate most of it and got ready for bed.
This passes for Chinese food everywhere in the UK, but it was edible and filled our empty bellies
The forecast had promised a hot day for Wednesday and thunderstorms all day Thursday. The rain fell overnight and we slept through the storm. When we woke, the sky was leaden and the tide was in.
The short version of trying to have breakfast in a seaside hotel during a pandemic follows. At 9am we went down for breakfast. bit of a story before anyone spoke to us, but they told us we couldn’t come in because we didn’t have a booking. I knew that most restaurants now need a booking to keep numbers down, but the room was very quiet and no one had told us about booking when we’d checked in. I somehow thought that being a hotel guest would make things different. I was wrong. We booked for 10am and went back to our room.
At 10 we went back down. we got seated in a dark place behind a column. we ordered some food. ‘all you can eat’ but we started slowly, not knowing what it would be like. We had some pancakes. Krish had a (small) sausage and one poached egg and some toast. I ordered one sausage, black pudding and a grilled tomato. We both ordered tea. When they brought the tea Krish asked for more tea. Once they delivered it, we didn’t see them again. There was a loud episode where a man let the wait staff know he’d been sitting with no service for some time. Then a man and his daughter showed up and were turned away. They told him he had no booking and breakfast ended at 10:30. Krish decided he wanted more food – we really hadn’t had much at this point. but no one showed up and we’d been asked to remain at our table. Eventually someone walked by and Krish told them he wanted to order. They told him breakfast was finished. I paid the bill while a disgruntled Krish stood by, promising to let them know what he thought of their ‘all you can eat’ breakfast. I’d say I ate enough, but I agree that it wasn’t very much for my money and shouldn’t be called ‘unlimited.’
The mostly empty dining roomAs advertised – Unlimited. Krish wants to complainMy breakfast – slice of toast, a small sausage, a slice of black pudding, and half a grilled tomatoTwo pancakes with some fruit and Nutella. Small and not so fluffy but who can resist?
There was an hour till check out and, while waiting, my aunt called to say that she felt very rude but could we not come back today? I’ll confess to feeling a little annoyed and sad, but I’d been prepared for this. It was dark and raining now, not the best day for wandering around, so should we just head home? We decided we would walk slowly back to the station and leave, seeing what we could along the way.
We checked out and walked in the spitting rain all along the esplanade, past loads of sleazy diners, takeaway kiosks, amusement arcades and rides towards the elevator that took us up to the town level. Krish remarked that Southend was interesting in all its ugliness. He’s right and I think there’s more to explore here, as long as you have a clue what you’re looking out. Many of the buildings dated from the early 1800s, some the 1700s.
One interesting building is the Kursaal. (The link is worth reading.) It was built in 1901 and was the world’s first purpose-built amusement park. The iconic building was on acres of land, used as gardens and fairgrounds. Inside there was a ballroom, a circus, an arcade, and dining room. In more recent years, there was a casino and a bowling alley. Like many such buildings, it’s had a turbulent history and is the victim of disuse and extortionate rents. Its future is shaky.
The Kursaal, opened in 1901 as the world’s first purpose-built amusement park attracting both locals and tourists. No one knows its future.
Along the way to town there are lots of colourful seaside attractions.
Fish and chips fish and chips fish and…more chippies than pubs
And before we left Southend, I had to walk along the beach and gather some seashells. It was quiet, it was very cool and a bit rainy, and the wooden piers and jetties are in bad shape, but they’re all part of the seaside experience here.
Southend beach is down what must have once been a cliff. There are stairs to climb to get down there. At the pier, there is an area with an elevator that takes you to up the town level.
From the elevator platform, across the fairground to the pierFrom the elevator platform towards the town centreThe Royal Hotel, a listed property was built in 1791 as a former haunt of Royalty and Aristocracy. It’s been restored and modernised and now has a ground floor cocktail bar and lounge, and a Ballroom on the first floor. I’d love to have afternoon tea here
We walked along the pedestrian high street towards the train station. Some other time I will take photos of all of the crazy buildings but today was not that day. In better weather we would have also done something else – we still want to go to Old Leigh for example. We’d planned to after seeing her Aunt Ruth that day, but not with our suitcase and in the rain.
It was an uneventful journey home. We arrived around 3pm and spent a nap-filled afternoon, having some soup for dinner.
Not the romantic interlude I’d hoped for but it’s done. And the thing is, will we ever go again? Aunt Ruth looks like she’s fading. Krish’s surgery is in July – will we ever hear when – and it’s an expensive journey for a short visit. No bargain fares can be had, even with our discount. It remains to be seen, but Krish swears that the next trip we take will be a nicer hotel and perhaps we’ll make it so.
I really am getting out more. I’m more relaxed about how much my knee hurts while I’m out there and how much it will hurt later! That doesn’t mean I’m actually relaxed, but compared to a month ago, yes. As well, the rain and very dreary weather has pretty much eased up. We even have a sort of intermittent heatwave (which is actually a paradox). Standard moan – yeah, the flipping mask, the crutch, the bag or two, the camera, the phone, the juggling of the whole damned thing makes walking a challenge, and taking photos even more so. I take my photos in a hurry, I see things I just know stopping for to do my juggling act won’t cut it…I think to myself, if only I could just take these photos with my eyes, with my voice…and, you know what, there probably is an easier way and perhaps I need to explore that – or at least figure out why my Huawei phone doesn’t allow me to voice-activate with ‘Smile’ or ‘Cheese’ like my LG phone did. And that’s that! Krish bought me a Gimble, look it up. I know there are great opportunities with it, but I fret about how to use it and how to hold it and how to carry it around. Hmm.
I’d love to get out of my comfort zone a bit with these journeys, see somewhere or something new. At the same time, this is what I can manage, so accept the same old territory. I really do see new things, or old things with new eyes. It helps. For now, at least, I’m treading the same ground.
Anyway, I finally saw the Afghan dresses – fewer of them were displayed than I expected, but I saw them last Wednesday on the hottest day of 2021, at 27C. I went with my friend, Christine.
Above Honest Burgers at 12 – 13 Widegate Street, there are four glazed sculpted panels showing the various stages of baking bread – installed in 1926. They mark the location of the Nordheim Model Bakery, which rustled up beigels and other Jewish delights for those who lived in the surrounding alleyways and beyondKings Stores pub, 14 Widegate Street, is named because it was the site of a huge munitions store under Henry VIII. In this area is Artillery Street and Passage, as well as Gun Street
Inside Townhouse at last, we asked to see the dresses and went through to the small gallery building at the back – it’s the size of a small living room. The exhibition was smaller than expected, but the dresses were lovely. You can read what inspired the exhibit and the dresses’ owner here. I enjoyed seeing the ideas the dresses’ creators had. The mirrors, embroidery, extra braiding and stitching. I mentioned to Chris, it reminded me of the shirts I’d made Jimmy (my first real boyfriend) when I had no idea how to make clothes, but pieced them together in shapes, creating curves with my stitches and not my scissors. You could buy these pieces. They ranged around £250-350.
Townhouse is a lovely store with antiques and crafts, Fournier Street
No, it’s not really that bad. It’s not actually bad at all. I was somewhat inspired by a blog post, whose site I’ve now forgotten but I should find it, filled with all the wonderful silver linings of these past fifteen (?) months. I could seriously relate to almost all of them, and those I couldn’t relate to I’m quite sure I could substitute something of my own. Fair game!
Guilt still haunts me when I don’t blog, even though hardly anyone reads it anyway. What’s that about? Asserting my existence, emptying my mind, creating memories with words and photos, increasingly photo-derived words these days.
There’s drama outside my window, as always. Constructions big and small, the sly drug-related (?) encounters, doggie adventures, a brave daytime fox, budgies on the tree, crow attacks, the daily Ming Hai routine – we call her Ming – of opening the shutters at noon and closing them again at 10pm (Krish promises the empty air that he will go help her, even clean her little takeaway domain), and the traffic…with the advent of LTNs (low traffic neighbourhoods) schools reopening, road closures, and construction, both roads in either direction can be crammed with vehicles while we pedestrians pray for a break so that we can cross. This week I think we are back to pre-pandemic sights and sounds, just add the masks and that’s it.
And I’ve loved watching the tree slowly bud, unfurl its leaves and today it’s harder to see the shops and road opposite. Under threat of eviction, I cherish the whole thing. This is surely my last year here in this spot.
The tree from early April till late May
We’ve had a miserable week or two in terms of weather. Darkness, high wind, rain, hail…with only the occasional bright spell. This morning I woke up to a lovely blue sky and luminous day. I’ll take it.
Walking is still a problem for me. Friday I’m going to a physio appointment. In the past these have been useless, but I’m an optimist. I hope they have some answers, even for a temporary fix. I do walk but it’s painful, and that’s a whole other blog. I miss enjoying walking.
Meanwhile I’ve made a list of places to visit nearby with my camera. I can set aside my physical difficulties to gain some emotional perspective. It’s not just the weather that will be brighter.
Krish is still visiting Guy’s Hospital, but the schedule is now lighter and longer. Lighter is almost a play on words, since he is now having light treatment – a long journey for two very short sessions. The last time I went I had a nice little walk and rest while waiting for Krish to get his second vaccination. Longish story and includes my trip to Eataly, so how about a short blog on that? Stay tuned
Christine, who is a new friend – the one who came to Brat with me – came to Spitalfields with me. I wanted to see an exhibit of Afghan wedding dresses at The Townhouse, but we found it closed. I texted the owner, who apologised for her site being outdated, and she gave me the correct hours, so we’ll try again soon. Meanwhile, we had lunch and I took a few photos. I’m not going to lie – juggling a camera (phone or digital) and a crutch, a mask, a coat, and a shoulder purse is pretty much an Olympic event. This means either fewer steps or fewer photos, and often both.
Fournier Street with the Ten Bells at the corner. On the side I’m standing is Christ Church. I love the old shop signs over the new shop frontagesWe had snacks at Spitalfields Market. I had eggplant – too generous for a side, and soup dumplings which had heavy-crusted bottoms. Too much for lunch so I ate half of each box and brought the rest homeAfter swiftly passing one of Dan Kitchener’s geishas on Commercial Street by bus many times, I managed to get a photo while waiting for my bus home
After the first foiled plan for Krish’s second vaccination, when his text confirmation didn’t arrive, he was given another time and not at St Thomas but Guys. Off we went. At the vaccination centre inside Guys, they couldn’t find his name, but sent him across to where they were vaccinating.
Walking through the new London Bridge Station. We didn’t have time to pause to take photographs but I must do that some time soon
While I was waiting, I looked at the photos along the corridor, which Krish said was the London Bridge Museum. One shows an eye operation in 1900. and another Evelina Children’s Hospital 1895. The original Evelina Hospital for Sick Children opened in 1869 on Southwark Bridge Road, London. Funded by Austrian Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild, it was built in memory of his wife, Evelina. Evelina had died three years earlier along with their son who was premature. It is now administratively a part of Guy’s and St Thomas’ NHS Foundation Trust.Waiting at Vaccination Centre 1 Guys Hospital
After a bit of a wait, he was turned away, since they had only Pfizer. They also discovered that his vaccination appointment was at St Thomas after all. In a rare blip, Krish hadn’t thoroughly read the text that arrived over the weekend – in that text St Thomas was named. However, if we went to their second centre – a short walk away, he’d find a tent where they could do the job.
Queuing at Vaccination Centre 2
Vaccination Centre 2 was in the quadrangle of Kings College, so we walked over and I wandered around the area while he queued – 13 minute wait, he texted me.
I liked this quiet courtyard. There was one modern building and some older ones, as well as the lovely old part. This is where Keats trained as a surgeon. I’ll confess to not being clear on which building is which around here. It’s the usual old London hospital style – a collection of separate buildings and houses with clinics and classrooms, and cafés and what-have-you. With my crutch, bags and cameras, I don’t have the patience or energy to look at plaques and details – but I will.
Not finding a café, I strolled through the arches leading to the inner courtyard of the oldest building. Very calm in here, but no bench. There was one spot for sitting but someone had already found it. There was a statue of Ludwig Wittgenstein, a seated statue of Keats, an old drinking fountain and a couple of plaques. As far as I can tell, this is the original surgeon’s school. I had the usual sense of the centuries-ago students walking through the corridors and inner hallways, unaware of the changes that were to come for the area. I found a place opposite the seated statue where I could download a soundtrack of ‘John Keats’ speaking about why he abandoned surgery for poetry. I wonder if I can embed it here. I went back to where I could sit among the buildings and trees.
Krish came out with another man and motioned me to stay where I was. When he did come over, he told me he hadn’t had the vaccination, that they had him in the seat, syringe loaded and ready to go, when a helper told the vaccinator to stop – his card read AstraZeneca and the syringe held Pfizer. Ooops. He had almost become a guinea pig for mixed doses.
Not a very inspiring view inside the lobby where I waited in Guys Hospital
Back to the main hospital we went, where they said they could try to get permission to give him the AZ dose. While he was doing this, I sat in the lobby, drinking a chai latte – hungry! (We’d planned lunch but it was now getting late.) He came out once to deliver that message, then finally again to say, Let’s go. I didn’t have it. Maybe he could have but he decided that he’d rather just leave and wait for them to sort things out. It had been a long morning. Continue reading “Foiled plans for a vaccination”
