City Ice

Romy and I went to an investment meeting at Canary Wharf. Though rather soulless, the place is quite impressive. We found masses of shops in underground caverns, and before our meeting, we saw the beginning of an ice sculpture competition and took some snaps. Unfortunately, technology has failed again and the snaps have refused to transfer from my camera to my laptop. I tell a lie. Dorothy has managed to fix things as usual.

Romy tells me Canary Wharf is best at the weekend without the workforce. I may venture forth in the summer on a boat trip. We shall see.

Ate rather a lot yesterday, though lunch was a healthy steak with tomato and mushrooms. In the morning I realised I had left all my keys locked inside the flat, so after Canary Wharf I fetched up at Dorothy and Julian's flat to collect a spare set. I arrived home very late and Kooky was rather displeased at the level of service, but perked up rather a lot after wolfing back his food.

It was Madeleine's birthday, but she did not wish to emerge and celebrate so left her alone. I suppose birthdays can become depressing in one's middle years, but the good thing is that later, each birthday feels like an achievement, having cheated the grim reaper for another year. I hope she will come out soon.