More strange goings on in and around Battersea with an early walk for coffee with Kaz or Kasim or Kazim. The Turkish script is not Latin anyway so take your pick. First, two Poles arrived for food, then four young men, while chaos ensued with only two staff and more consumers. Kaz has stress. Two more staff arrive later, but before that Emre and Kaz multi-task at speed and customers are patient since they love the staff and come regularly to eat, chat then go on to their work. Later customers sit with their drink as long as they want, and Kasim sits down with them to socialise and listen to them.
Time for a quick walk over the bridge to Chelsea, along the Embankment and back across the other bridge into Battersea Park and Buddha shining in the Sun. After meditation a wander through the Park finds Alex awaiting a client for meditation of a physical kind, with two wooden rings suspended from the large branch of an old tree in a glade, and music playing. A very deep conversation ensues as we discuss current issues, notably the depth of the plot to reset the world for the benefit of the plutocrats, with petty prefects everywhere issuing orders. The two petty prefects arrive on cue, lanyards swinging, clipboards poised and instructions issued about danger of branches breaking and killing people. Though she seemed more concerned about the tree. She listened impatiently while Alex observed that uniformed police officers had already passed by without and concern. The prefects moved on to find other folks to bother and Alex and I finished our chat and left the rings dangling where they were.
Back to La Patisserie, and Denise is eating breakfast outside as the traffic passes by. Keen to talk we converse about this and that ... she rescued a pigeon some years ago and the pigeon moved in and stayed. Which is interesting. Inside a young man is awaiting his breakfast and his friend. They are off to the horse racing at Brighton for the day, and both insist they are fully aware of the plot and never wear masks or accept jabs. Resistance everywhere! Including a retired civil servant eating beans on toast but no eggs.
A swift walk back to Larkhall Rise finds elder daughter eating her brunch of four scrambled eggs. She likes eggs. After both meals we wander off in search of a battery and watch strap on Clapham High Street. The kind man chats as he works and discloses his own scepticism and she returns in the light rain while I wend my way round to Lavender Hill, via a bookshop where to suave intellectual bibliophile enquires not which book I seek but why I appear to have no mask. Probably a Guardian reader and since I don't want a book anyway and no time to argue with such people I make up an author he may have heard of but does not stock, simply to infect his books with the deadly virus he fears.
Back at Kasim's another sceptic awaits for conversation as thunder and lightning plus rain goes on outside. After which, as Kasim prepares to close at 5, I wander along for Tapas at a Spanish restaurant staffed by a Brazilian and two Italians. All keen to only comply with rules as little as possible to keep the business open, whilst engaging in radical conversation. Let's just say youngish men from Sicily are not keen on fascism and leave it at that. The last copy of The Light is left with him and fond farewells with the young female chef and older Brazilian woman include handshakes of course.
Quite a day and an early night before more fun in the morning. Though not for the elder daughter since that's surgery day. 5 hours in the chair ...
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