Oh sacred memory. The Knights Templar in Chancery Lane. One of the Legal London pubs. And a Wetherspoons, but a better sort, don't you know.
After a day of training lawyers at the venerable institution with which I was happy to be connected in my second career, there would always be a few down at the KT Monday-Thursday from 4.30pm for a couple, to digest and deconstruct the day, Not the same folk every day, of course, because that would be the type of alcoholism that would be hard to explain away.
Sunday 3rd April 2022, 12.34pm. Finished the London Landmarks Half Marathon (LLHM) in 2 hours 37 minutes. 9,262nd out of 17,177 runners (if I had been a year older then there would only have been 18 of us doing it). And a decent chunk of money raised for the lovely Make-A-Wish Foundation, a charity that provides experiences that make dreams come true for children suffering from critical illnesses.
"Something for the weekend, sir?". As an eight-year old lad I am seated on a plank placed over the barber's chair. My father went first, while I amused myself with tales of Dan Dare from The Eagle magazine. Now my turn, for a brusquely delivered short back and sides. Customer care has not been invented yet for kids. As I sit rigidly in my place a middle-aged chap from another chair goes up to pay. The question is delivered, and as a result some further commerce is transacted, although what comes out from under the counter and disappears into a brown paper bag, I cannot tell.
"Now Christopher and Patrick, show me the drawings you've done during carpet time.......thank you".
"Christopher, yours has some squiggly lines going up and down over the page...........................I see, it's spiders having a race......well, that is very good imagination".
Glasses. Mask. Rain. Mask. Glasses. Fogging up. Going from outside to an inside public space I feel that I am at more risk of personal injury than of Covid 19.
