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Day’s Verse:
Sing to the Lord, bless His name;
Proclaim good tidings of His salvation from day to day.
Tell of His glory among the nations,
His wonderful deeds among all the people.
Psalm 96:2-3
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(Photo from cemetary in Paris.)

…And Primrose Hill, if you must know. Yesterday I spent six hours at Regents Park. I brought another book Suzanne loaned me, An Equal Music, and read that for long stretches sitting in cool shady spots on the grass. I think all of London turned out to the park to lay there in the sun or in the shade with their friends or lovers. Many couples lay close, contentedly, dozing in the heat. Parents and children walked the paths while old people dragged resisting little pooches. Sometimes my heart ached because Ian and I came here in its winter emptiness and saw these same, but different, sights. Now the tree greenery provides cool patches and Taste London draws crowds to eat in the hot sun. Football (soccer) players dotted the fields, while many people simply sunned or shaded themselves. I noticed that no adult women wear shorts. They wear long pants or skirts of all types. I had worn zipper pants and weighed, sweating, the benefit of fitting in versus sweating to death. Eventually I converted my pants to shorts and just accepted my American tourist look, worth it for the coolness that accompanied that state.

I walked straight across the park to the zoo, then decided to walk the perimeter so as to not miss anything. At a place where people can rent rowboats to splash across the murky water, I bought a cool mint choc chip ice cream cone that I savored until it started dripping out the bottom. Then I finished it in a few bites – munch, munch, munch. Waiting in line a father asked his primary-school aged child to read the words (This ice cream was made with milk from Jersey cows) and to calculate how much five flakes would cost at 50p each. It would have been harder if he asked how much five two-scoop cones at £2.35 would cost.

At Primrose Hill I sat at the top and watched a wedding party take pictures. Perhaps I made it into one by accident. I listened to a man next to me on the bench pointing out landmarks to his wife, and looked surriptitously. Somebody flew a large neon pink-and-purple kite at the bottom of the hill, but it seemed taller than the skyscrapers in the distance. I heard several people trying to connect with friends via their cell phones, but Primrose Hill has so few significant landmarks, and had so many young Londoners lying about sweating in the sun in various states of undress, I would be amazed if any of the people found each other.

At 6:00 I walked to the apartment of Delorey for dinner. It took half an hour and I found it quite close to the parks. I passed a cricket field celebrating its 200th anniversary with a match between Eton and Harrow, or some such. Loud manly cheering emanated from the stands, and it could have been a baseball stadium. At the apartment the group slowly trickled in, basking in the air conditioning and enjoying the delicious food. I took home his apple-and-raspberry crumble. Mine, all mine! I ate some for breakfast, finished An Equal Music, book, and am now off to All Saints for church again. Last week the sermon meant so much to me I resolved to go back. So I am.