It’s hard to decide now how to get back to normal travel-blogging, but I’m going to try.
Our taxi driver this afternoon assured me that Londoners are a bit used to “this sort of thing,” what with the IRA in the ‘80s and ‘90s. He said he was at the taxi rank in front of Harrod’s when a huge IRA bomb went off.
One forgets how lucky one is, living in the States. Here, in Europe, all the countries are piled one on top of the other. Any discontent, and there are no natural boundaries to keep the different sides apart. We have the Atlantic between us and everybody else besides Canada and Mexico.
At dinner tonight, our restaurant was full. Everyone seemed normal, as far as I could tell. After dinner, a walk to Buckingham Palace and back to the hotel.
Peter is probably watching cricket or some such on TV — he claims to understand cricket now, after watching. I wonder if he’ll explain it to me. I wonder if I’ll understand.
white pebble 