yesterday was not a good day for the progress of science, she says, radiating glee.i was later asked, by censorious types, whether julian has ever calculated how many years his new discoveries are delayed as a result of a single extended lunch break with me. this seemed to me an excellent idea. j shall henceforth be encouraged to keep a logbook, recording all disruptions and scientific setbacks, which he will be invited to read out at my funeral instead of a eulogy.
however, it rained a good deal, and cafe-sitting (i like the word sittende, as in hamsittende) is a fidgety and clammy affair when shoes are wet, so julian goes back to work after a desultory cupcake at plain vanilla bakery (one cannot deny it is a charming (read: very instagrammable) space but cupcakes, however highly-praised, occupy a low rung on my list of preferential desserts, and places that can make coffee never seem to know how to make tea — they think by sloshing a little too-hot water in a cardboard cup they have discharged their duty.) and i escape to shihong and yen’s (they’ve moved into a 27th storey kim tian flat) for more tea and salted cashews.
friends with kim tian flats encourage the visiting of tiong bahru.
my other corrupting influence for the week: our von has now been induced to read sarah caudwell. he, i say, is a ragwort, of course.
Best of the Transparent Hummingbird