Ernest was perfectly lovely of course, meeting Mum and Granddad on Monday. He was absolutely charming to Mum, telling her she looked like she could be my sister and saying "oooh, Mrs Cardew, what a lovely home you have" and what not. He spent simply ages talking to Granddad, talking about Yorkshire and the things Granddad likes to talk about. I suppose Ernest simply sat there and listened, but he was so sweet about it, so incredibly patient.
But I cannot handle the city. I think it's perfectly horrid. So many people, as many as there are flowers in the country. Ernest took me out for a walk around the city - we went to see a show at the O2, 'The Love Punch' (Ernest's choice, not mine), after having spent the afternoon in Greenwich, at the observatory and the Royal Naval College. I took pictures.
I do quite love Greenwich, also because after Hyde Park it's one of the few green areas in London easily reached. Ernest had brought some crème eggs and other Easter-y things and we sat on the grass in the park and simply ate and talked, but even a day out couldn't shake my feeling of claustrophobia.
The city makes me perfectly unhappy, I find it utterly dreadful.
I mean, there is hardly any green space - you'd actually have to go to an actual park, or Greenwich, to see any real trees - and there are people everywhere. Everywhere is cramped, everyone's unfriendly and if you try to make small talk on the Tube they look at you with this vile look as though you've actually stepped in dog droppings.
I was shopping in Oxford Street the other day and I got stepped on by others not once or twice, but thrice.
I really can't wait to go back to Hertfordshire. I'm going on Monday.
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