Well on the Eve of All Saints Day I went to All Saints Margaret Street. The service was spectacular, although my view was not good. I had got there late as there had been a tube malfunction and traffic hold up on the buses and panic attacks ensued. But just in time to hear the psalms wonderfully sung- the altar party seemed to number hundreds, the sermon good, the setting sublime. As usual as I confidently predicted to a friend my old mantra proved spot in:The posher the church, the meaner the food. But I wanted to get home to cook for John.
Coming home I met the usual ghouls and ghosts- and snapped a couple in Spitalfields Market and they snapped me back
Coming home I met the usual ghouls and ghosts- and snapped a couple in Spitalfields Market and they snapped me back
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