NOEL COWARD

One of my most treasured friends has a penchant for BEING Noel. This shows in how well written is his emailed comment on this blog:

A most curious blog! I did like the 3G one..your Wolseley story put me in
mind of those lovely days when at university, I would take the train to London
on a crisp January day, when the sun is glinting through, touching your face,
and yet there is still a shiver, a chill and thrill in the spine. You arrive at
about 10ish, take the tube to Piccadilly, and emerge into the busy road, with a lilt in your stride. Then, you turn the corner into St. James’s Square, where the whiteness and the crispness merge, your senses eagerly awaiting the experience ahead..such anticipation as you bound up the steps of your club, and inhale the smell, the atmosphere..you head for the smoking room, pluck a paper from the rack, ring the bell for coffee..and life IS GOOD. Youth, eh?! Wasted on the young.

I have often thought of blogging, though I can never get past a) my own inertia b)
the concern about further clogging up cyberspace. Still, please continue, I love to hear about your thoughts, which are of course as random as
you are (and we love you for it!)

I think that you have a longing to be an art teacher – the cord jacket, the Lamy pen (most disappointed not to hear of a Moleskine sketch pad - tsk tsk!)