Breakfast as usual at our bay-window table, but grey and wet outside and neither of us over-enthusiastic about a speedy exit to start our morning, so we sat around reading for a while.
By late morning it was obvious that the rain wasn't going to give us a break, so once again we donned our non-waterproof best and plodded off to Tower Hill station en route to Paddington. From there we took a grown-up train westwards to Langley, where Mike's uncle Eamon was waiting to drive us to his house. His eldest daughter Elaine -Mike's considerably younger cousin - was already there to meet us with her partner Ken. These are people we get together with each year.
A light lunch had been promised, but Eamon as usual had excelled by preparing an overflowing table of meats, cheeses, salads and several other accompaniments, and then produced a selection of deserts to follow. True to form, Eamon then refused to accept any help clearing up, shooed the rest of us into the sitting room to catch up on each other's lives, washed up and put everything back in place before coming to join us.
It took very little time until he jumped up, insisting we must be in need of more tea and pastries!
All too soon the conversation needed to come to a close, and Elaine drove through the rainy dark to deposit us for our return train to London where we made our soggy way home.
Soon after returning to our flat we saw lights flashing and sirens blaring. Watching out our window there were buses and cars backed up along the narrow street, a fire truck, an ambulance, police, and an unmarked official car. After nearly an hour everything had disappeared and traffic returned to normal. This morning we learned that suspected terrorists had their tires shot out and were arrested somewhere on the street that runs next to our building.
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