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Covent garden

I first travelled to London from Amsterdam by rail & ferry. There was no Chunnel in those days and I was young and poor. My culinary mentor had arranged a series of stage for me in many of the best restaurants. At the time, many of them were owned by the Fagel family.

I don’t know if it is the same for young travelers today, but I think the most remarkable things to me on that trip were not the sights.  Instead it was the peculiarity of so many little things that make up the day-to-day life of Londoners.

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.

Albert Camus

London for the first time

I had a room booked at an inexpensive rooming house. My first surprise was in the morning at breakfast. The host served tea – and only tea, and then brought out breakfast.  Breakfast was a desktop letter holder, but instead of letters, she had stuck slices of toast, cut diagonally.  These were all arranged neatly. A tidy set of toast triangles.  And then she put down a jar of jam and a ramekin of butter.  That was breakfast.  That morning, I thought her a her the oddest innkeeper I had ever known. It didn’t occur to me that this might be a normal, British breakfast.

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