December 15th, 1990
At home, England
London is a magical place to be at Christmas, with twinkling lights everywhere, carol singers, the smell of roasting chestnuts on every street corner and the heavy bustle of shoppers, laden with gifts.
“Are you enjoying our day?” Richard asked as we meandered our way through Covent Garden.
“Very much so.”
“I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of making a reservation for something I expect you might enjoy.”
“Ooh, I’m intrigued.”
“Would you like to know what it is?” He asked.
“No, just surprise me.”
He looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“Ok, well we’ll go by taxi but I’ll discretely inform the driver of our destination so as not to spoil the surprise.”
“Do we need to go now?”
He looked at his watch and nodded. “Yes, we probably ought to head in that direction.”
“You’re taking me to a hotel?” I teased, as the hackney cab pulled up outside Claridges.
“Yes, but nothing sinister,” he smiled. “I promise.”
“Aw, that’s a shame,” I joked, making him laugh.
Over the most scrumptious array of afternoon tea delights I’ve ever seen, we discovered much about each other, including the fact we’re both operating the same flight to Philadelphia tomorrow!