Changing Places

I'm back from one of the best breaks I've had in yonks. Nothing was planned, but everything was perfect: sometimes it just works out like that, you get lucky. We checked into the plush St Pancras Renaissance Hotel on a well-earned freebie that included luxury suite and dinner for two, and arrived just in time for a late breakfast in the private club. Eyes popping like greedy children, we piled our plates and settled down to scoff the lot, served by solicitous staff who were never very far away. Properly refreshed, we took the tube to London Bridge, and walked along the Embankment past Southwark Cathedral, and the scents of Borough Market. On to Tate Modern where we sauntered through the permanent exhibitions, pausing to comment, appreciate or criticise when moved but always relaxed, open minded, and tolerant, naturally. Such a delightful way to spend a Sunday, we agreed, while outside in the cold and rain the London Marathon runners pushed themselves to their limits. When we'd had enough we returned to find our suite looked straight over the Eurostar concourse, a mix of sleek modern transport and beautiful Victorian architecture. What an outlook! We gloated for a bit, and then went down for tea which involved an awful lot of clotted cream. Replete again we took ourselves down to the spa to float in the jacuzzi and swim in the pool, our bodies unwinding and relaxing in the warmth. But we couldn't hang around, there was too much to do. Back for scalding baths in the vast bathroom, before tarting up for aperitifs and dinner. Our waitress made us laugh, and insisted on calling me Good Eyes for guessing she was Polish. Not Good Ears? After dinner we settled down to watch Night Crawler, a creepy, nasty, brilliant film we'd both wanted to see for ages. By midnight we had to accept that the day's entertainments must come to an end, and we surrendered to sleep.

Next morning the party began again with breakfast in the club, and we decided to walk along the Regent's Canal towpath to Camden Lock. The sun brought a welcome warmth after yesterday's chill, and the path was quiet and green, moving gradually from industrial to upmarket residential. At Camden we decided not to stop but to walk on to Little Venice and cut through the park at the zoo. The girls spent much of their teenage weekends around here, and Olivia was flooded with memories which she knew Kitty would share. The surroundings grew more beautiful with every turn of the canal, and soon we were by the lions' enclosure and heading into the park, jackets off but still sweltering in the sun. Before finally leaving the park, a good four miles later, we stopped for coffee. Two young men were sitting outside with that most perfect of all dogs, the Italian greyhound. "Italian greyhound?" I asked unnecessarily, sitting down while Olivia went in to order. We got talking, and I offered them the change from the £20 I gave her for the coffee to take the dog off their hands, but they said it wasn't enough. "How about if I throw my daughter in too?" I suggested. They were up for that, but said they'd keep the dog until they saw how Olivia worked out. And so it went on, backwards and forwards, while they told me they were in a play at http://www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk/productions.php called A New Play For the General Election which was reviewing for the Press that night. The dog's owner was the writer and director, and his friend an actor.  I was enchanted by them and the fun we were having, and when Olivia finally came back with the coffee and was told she would be going with them in a possible dog exchange, she kept it going too. We parted like old friends, and when they'd gone Olivia said "Did you see who that was?". We'd seen the director earlier boarding the most elegant boat on the canal. It was the perfect end to a perfect weekend, and we left in high spirits. I just hope her next freebie is as high quality as this one was.

Tim Pritchett

Chris New