Wilf took me out to Wanstead yesterday to 'show me his manor' (his words.) Since he was asked to leave by the Gants Hill Gang Show he's felt rather reticent about 'going east', but he forced himself anyway. He allowed me to peruse a selection of amber jewellery in a shop window then we went for a meal in a rather smart brasserie and it was lovely. If Wilf's conversation was 56% more interesting then he'd be a great catch for any discerning lady. After eating we went for a long walk over Wanstead Flats - he'd looked up a selection of facts in The Illustrated History of Redbridge and proceeded to regale me with them in a monotone voice. Hmm.
Unfortunately (for him, not for me) he had to travel east to visit his mother; for my part, I headed west and changed at Stratford. The top deck of the bus home after the DLR stank of body odour, but that's modern living for you. I was very pleased to have the flat to myself for the evening and watched another of BBC4's excellent music documentaries. I seem to recall that the late Mr A used to enjoy those too. Sigh. Mind you, the culinary perfection of a Vesta Chow Mein meal and half a frozen Black Forest Gateau made me feel happier. I'll aim to walk off the excess calories tomorrow.
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