I lost a tube train today. It wasn’t at Finchley when it was supposed to be. It may have been early. It certainly wasn’t late. And it left me sitting about for half an hour until the next one arrived. This is the only problem with having parents living at the tail end of the tube line. Infrequent (but regular, except when they go awol) trains. Along with the potential that, out of sheer desperation and need to get moving, you get on the Wrong Train. I must not get on the next train to arrive at this platform. But the one after.
Mum’s having an open garden this afternoon. It’s supposed to rain. I may regret not having wellies. I may get cake (her garden is the fourth garden, and where the tea tent is. I am on crockery shunting duty). I do have my waterproof, which is something. And I am wearing sensible clothes, unlike yesterday, when I shivered round the zoo and wished for my waterproof. To be fair, so did everyone other than my goddaughter. She didn’t care about the rain other than that it meant she couldn’t go on the bouncy castle. She did have a go on the carousel. We saw lemurs, otters, penguins, monkeys, bats, rats, meerkats, hippopotami and giraffes.
Yes. It is an affectation to call them hippopotami rather than hippopotamuses. Both look equally weird as spellings go.
Oh yes. I made a lemon on Friday.