Somebody said you can visit a city for a night and write a novel, after a month maybe a chapter, but after a year you'll be lucky to write a sentence. No wonder there is so much travel writing.
With Scott finally destroying the kitchen we have moved to St Albans for the duration. I quiver at the length of time this might be.
The first thing you notice about living in St Albans is the reality of HD TV. It's like living in the adverts. All the family's TV's have grown substantially in size over the last two years, and like growing children, they now take over whole rooms. Some are even 3D, and you have to wear funny glasses. The effect is to make you realize what you are missing, that in some sense, giant size pleas for your attention are the reality of our times.
Meanwhile, if you go out, it will be to VIP night at the Slug and Lettuce, where diamonds accompany the cocktails, but only one of them is real. Meanwhile I did actually pick up the phone to hear somebody had died, and the response was 'Do you think we should phone Samantha, we'll interrupt her crazy golf'. This is middle England alright.
We are going to book for dinner in D'Arcy's which we were told, long ago during a rather pleasant evening in the Riviera Las Vegas by a disappointed visiter from these shores, was far better than anything there. We have been waiting a long time for the pleasure. The last time I went out for dinner in St Albans to such a fine establishment, I paid £100 and enjoyed little more than a carrot.
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