We went out to a Turkish restaurant for dinner last night – Christine, Abbas and me.  They’ve loved each other for decades, and you can tell … they’re quiet together.

The first story is the flavours.  Oh … the moussaka!  And even more so, a dessert called antoic kunefe.  My mouth sang but my brain couldn’t figure it out.  So the Internet to the rescue …

The künefe’s thin, string-like strands of crunchy semolina dough called tel kadafıy combined with its unsalted stretchy Hatay cheese provided an ideal contrast of textures, while the sherbet (a syrup made of water, sugar and lemon juice) that was poured on top lingered in our mouths.

The second story is Abbas.  He’s from Iran.  When he speaks, Christine describes him as “poetic”.  I agree.  The lilt of his voice soothed me.

I have a marvelous Iranian friend called Hana so I’m not stuck in a stereotype about the country.  Still, Abbas opened my eyes when he said that over half of Iran’s post-secondary students are women, and there are a lot fewer hijabs worn than I would have guessed.

A fine time was had by us three and our smiling server gentleman

***

Now it’s lunch at Heathrow Airport Terminal Five – yummy soft tacos.  I had bought a return bus ticket “Heathrow/Paddington train station”.  When I got to Paddington, I reasoned wisely that buses would be parked outside of the station.  So I went out and started circling the block.  No buses.

Where do they hide the buses!?

I approached a fellow wearing an orange uniform.

Where can I find the Heathrow Express bus?

It’s a train, not a bus.  It’ll be on Track 6 or 7 in the terminal

Oh.  So much for my memory of arriving in London.  The good news is that I came upon a marvelous sculpture when I was on the street at Paddington:

It’s called The Wild Table of Love.  And there’s room for all of us to sit down and share a meal.

I was boarding just now and came across another fine image.  I won’t add to it.  Just take a look …

Goodbye London …  Hello Gent