Dining alone, sulla chiatta

Last night was a late one. Kathryn and I went to choir, where we sang some lovely songs, including a folk setting of Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem, "Crossing the Bar". Our version was very similar to this rendition by Willow Harmony. We also did an African song, which the choir knows as "Oh Lilizela". This is a wonderful version of that song.

Our walk home was more eventful than we anticipated. We saw a homeless person sleeping on a grate, and then discovered that the code for the gate to Kathryn's flat wasn't functioning. It took more time than we anticipated which meant I got a late start on my blog. I didn't get to bed last night until after 2, which meant I arose at 9:30. It was a short day for me since I had such a late start. Next week I will need to be up much earlier every day. I keep vowing to turn in earlier, and then I turn around and stay up way too late.

The walk in today wasn't very eventful, with one exception. What a fun vision this was.

The bumper reads, "Donate one pound. Text Dogs01 to 70070. Texts are free. Dogs Trust."

The number of charitable organizations here is quite extensive. One of the student activities today was to learn about job opportunities, as well as chances to volunteer. I know many would welcome working with animals.

I spent the afternoon reading and taking care of a few pieces of business, and then Helen and I walked back to our little corner of the world, Diglis Basin. It was a pleasant enough evening, with a lovely afternoon sun.

I've already written about the charming barge cafe in our neighborhood called Cafe Afloat. It's a quirky little place with very limited hours. They serve dinner only one night a week, and, as I discovered, one must book in advance. Having said that, I have violated the rules twice now and have been very well accommodated.

Tonight I showed up at 7:00, mindful that the dinner service was listed at 6:00 until dusk. Keep in mind, the days are getting shorter at an alarmingly fast pace. As I approached, I saw the person I think is the proprietor sitting outside having a glass of wine.

"Am I too late?" I asked with some anxiety.

At that point, Mr. Taylor (the proprietor) told me that the expectation is that people will book their dinners in advance, as they're not really a restaurant. He told me a couple had promised to come back at half six (6:30), but they hadn't yet returned, so he thought it would be okay for me to have dinner. He escorted me in to the boat and I sat down.

The staff did not present me a menu, but rather inquired as to whether or not I would accept a glass of wine "on the house". I graciously acceded and soon received my wine and a small dish of olives. Both were quite delicious. I had understood that the entree for the evening was a vegetarian, butternut squash lasagna, but the dish they served me was a meat lasagna. I have stayed away from red meat for over a year now, but I was very hungry and welcomed the dish. The salad which preceded the entree consisted of hearts of romaine, fennel root and green beans in a balsamic vinaigrette. The buttered toast was also very tasty. I've been a chartered member of the "clean your plate club," so I ate every bite. When I finished the meal, the proprietor asked if I would like some chocolate orange tart for pudding. I demurred, but requested a cafe americano. Before I knew it, there was the tart alongside my americano. The proprietor encouraged me to try a little bit, and I started with small bites. Before I knew it, the tart was no more.

Before I left, the proprietor and the female server (his wife, perhaps?), asked if I was living local. I confirmed that I was. They then asked if I had a torch on my mobile, to which I had to admit, "no". They expressed concern about my walking along the canals. I acknowledged that the canal was dark, but that I had walked it with confidence and wasn't worried. How sweet of them to ask after my welfare. They thanked me for my patronage and invited me to return. It was all very lovely.

It is a wee bit creepy to walk alone along the river. The Lights along the river are thick with cobwebs.