Charlotte came to town on Friday to see an exhibition at the Scott Polar Institute. Over lunch in a cafe decorated with images of sinister clowns, we had a lovely discussion about publishing and life and whatnot and she asked how I’m settling in England (or something along those lines).
I replied, truthfully, that I am still drifting between surprise and confusion.
To illustrate I told her where I had been all morning: a Church of England harvest festival ceremony in the Trinity College Chapel, listening to one hundred small children sing hymns in what might be described as posh accents.
This seems so improbable.