My daughter in law came for a visit.

We go to London, the sun is shining and we are excited, we are going to a concert in a candle lit church in the Strand.

It feels as if the air is enchanted as we walk the London streets, the almost white stone of the impressive architecture that rises beside us gleams in the sunshine. Tourists swarm towards us and we take to the side streets that have a still tranquility, and find a small Vietnamese restaurant selling street food, we sit outside and absorb the heterogenous atmosphere of London.

Then to the concert. The building is ornate with a domed ceiling painted intricately in blue and gold, a string quartet plays Mozart and the melody fills the church making me want to dance, and finally the pianist plays Beethoven’s fifth symphony which is my least favourite because it has been over popularised. 

Well, I have never heard the fifth symphony played with such passion, it not only fills the church, it fills my mind and body.

We exit the church into sunlight and my body and mind take time to readjust.

We board our train to London Bridge. I sit next to a tall man and opposite to him is an attractive girl, they are obviously friends.

          ‘I really HATE your nose,’ the girl says.

          ‘You HATE my nose?’ he asks incredulously.

I turn to look and find he has a sweet neat little nose.

           ‘I think you have a very nice nose and I would like to have it.’ I say.’

A conservative looking man sitting opposite, lowers his newspaper,

          ‘I think you have a very suitable nose.’

At this point, we all laugh, and it transpires that the man is Nigerian but has never visited Nigeria, having been brought up in America and Denmark and the girl is half Nigerian and half Spanish.

We bid them a fond goodbye and alight at London Bridge stion.

          ‘Good luck,’ I say,

          ‘For you and your nose!’

We congratulate ourselves on finding the right platform in London Bridge for our train to take us home and see a bench and sit on it.

          ‘Look, there is a new moon,’ exclaims my companion.

This is obviously the reason why there is enchantment in the air.

          A man in an orange glow jacket approaches,

          ‘What train are you expecting to get lovies?’

          ‘We want the last train to Uckfield,’ we reply.         

The man points to the other end of the platform.

          ‘It’s down there!’

It transpires that the man is the guard on the train and the driver has told him to come and get us.

We realise that the train is now running late, and we start to run.

The driver jumps out of the train when he notices an old lady with a white stick trying to run.

          ‘Don’t rush!’ he shouts.

He guides us into two first class seats. And the train sets off late. This is the end to a day of enchantment