In London playing grandfather. What has changed since my last visit is the number of young women wearing heavy make up. Apparently it’s in case the need to take a selfie suddenly overwhelms them. We horrified ourselves at the Hunterian museum and fled when faced with a great rack of weaponry for going up one’s bottom and went on to the Wallace collection. We lunched in a restaurant on the 38th floor. Balls-achingly trendy, filled with beautiful people taking photos of each other, Chinese youths with western arm candy and Lamborghini keys displayed on the table, and one snake-like young John Travolta look alike with his shirt open to his belly button billing and cooing at his Chinese girl friend while her parents looked on disapprovingly from the other side of the table. Most of the waiters were hipsters who wear the same beard and flat hairstyle and are consequently difficult to tell apart.

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