On Tuesday I met some school friends in Ye Old Bank of England in Fleet Street. Contrary to common belief I am not an abstainer, and am more than capable of a few jars with friends. Having never been to this hostelry before, I was impressed by its grandeur - maybe it used to be the Bank of England when we had less money?!
The most notable part of my journey there was on the Central Line, where a man insisted on waving a small wooden cross in front of each passenger in turn. It's hard to make out the cross in his right hand, but look at the faces of the other passengers, most of whom as always pretend it isn't happening.
I feel blessed.