[Varley]

I'm reporting back aboard, whether rested or recuperified is another matter.

Amongst the pleasures of my run shore is usually a pint or two at Chequers off Jermyn Street.

I do not like to grumble but the only bitter, London Pride, was 'off' and when I tried half a pint of some indescript IPA it was served in something reminiscent of a small child's toothmug when I tried the remaining pump my best coaxing managed to get a half of something pretending to be porter in a stemmed lager glass - both would have undrinkable had they not been alcoholic. I wonder not what is to become of the big smoke but wonder at what it has become.

Had dinner at V. Posh hotel - private dining room. Found fellow guest was 93 year old ex Shaw Savill steward. Have offered to sign him on here if his carer can be encouraged to do computer for him. (Suspect it is the only time two sailor boys had crossed that threshold when unencumbered with the luggage of others). But even here cold Fino was not all that cold and tasted rather overly long opened and another guest had her chicken bloodily underdone.

Nothing was up to it's usual scratch. I even had to run a guerrilla group at my club to provide some fellow members with refreshment, cognac and toothmugs (in extremis) as the bar now closes at 2230. I would fear blackballing but one of said ladies was an ex-director of the establishment.

And if you think I am moaning you should have heard the ladies glooming over their failing-to-shop expeditions and, in the case of Sister-in-Law, the failure of tube trains to train when they should.

And I caught a cold (of the viral kind not stock exchange kind - now the UK's lady chancellor has given me one of those too). If anyone calls me to change a light bulb in the next month just take a guess at where the old one is going to get shoved.