Or Lucky Grapes

Happy new year. Or szczęśliwego nowego roku. I am sitting in the tube at the moment and opposite me are a young couple who are having a lovely time. He is teaching her how to say happy new year in Polish. She is having difficulties but is gamely practising. I am inwardly debating whether to wish them shczenshleevehgonovehgorokoo myself. Shades of my father, I think, who would definitely not have missed this opportunity! Well, I did. Miss the opportunity. We just smiled at each other as I left the train.

I regret it now, of course, but that’s the way things are.

Now I’m at the bus station going to Charing Cross Hospital to see a friend who has been laid up for a couple of weeks and is waiting for an op. She slipped on the ice. One of the terrible treacheries of winter.

And I’m…