Monday, February 6
Newington Butts, 22:18
I spent much of the morning exploring Balham which seems mid-transformation: part gentrified and hand-crafted and part poor and shop-at-Poundland. I bridged the gap by eating a late breakfast cheese and onion pasty at Greggs which hovered ambiguously between unhealthily cheapskate and culinarily retro. I chose this in preference to the artisanal breakfast sandwiches available elsewhere.
I hunted down Cadbury’s Creme Eggs for Naa and found twenty in Sainsbury’s.
I spent the afternoon and evening with Jack, Denise and Casey. Casey acted shy for half an hour and then became more and more extrovert in a polite and jolly way. We bounced a balloon around for hours, or so it seemed.
Jack made a chicken curry and introduced me to Steve Austin’s Broken Skull Challenge, which all three of the adults loved. Casey liked it too in an interestingly imitative way.
I found their house much more easily than I (or they) had expected. Now I have left through driving rain to get the 155 bus back to the hotel. Do I have an umbrella with me? Yes I do! I wait fifteen minutes in a bus shelter, watching the rain bouncing off the road, marvelling at the fact that the 155 runs from Jack and Denise’s flat to the hotel and stops about five metres from both.
When I get back Irma will have commented on the photos I have sent via WhatsApp. She will claim Casey looks like a little Jack.
Indeed he does.