16th February 2023. 70 years ago a good friend of ours was born. James Norman Hardy. The good doctor. Sadly not to see his 70th birthday. I spent a lot of time thinking about him today. I met him in October 1972 when we lived in Sheffield in the same hall of residence. He fell in love with and married a close friend of mine. He became an exemplary doctor. Had two children. Many, many friends. And then sadly, tragically, he was overcome by cancer. A lovely man.

And today, while celebrating my husband’s seventieth, I thought of Jim at every corner. We should have all been celebrating together.

Yesterday we came back to the hotel replete from out very posh lunch at the Michelin starred restaurant 11 ( fabulous food, wonderfully friendly service, No atmosphere whatsoever) we were regaled by a cake and bottle of champagne like wine

But today there was no cake for Jim. Just loads of memories. One of my favourite ones is going to the cinema with him in Sheffield to see The Sting. It was winter and cold and Jim had been instructed to entertain me and take care of me ( I had been through a traumatic experience not long before, having been mugged and robbed not far from where we are living at the time in Sheffield. )

We enjoyed the film and then it was time to walk me back through the red light area of town. It was quiet, very dark except for an intermittent moon. The film still had a powerful hold on us. the music was still resonating in our ears. Insistently. Scarily at times

Yet today, when walking through the rundown and partially rebuilt dockland area of Lisbon, that was all I could think of. Waste land expanses. Wanderers. Graffiti.

One way to get more light

We were actually going to go to the art deco museum. Disappointingly you have to book a guided tour and we were there at the wrong time. Still, it gives us a very good reason to go back to Lisbon.

Apart from the weather and food and friendly people. What a delightful few days it’s been.