Keeping Up with Terry Jones

Terry Jones had invited us to join him and Anna for lunch in London on Saturday. We had other plans. . .No! Of course, we jumped at the opportunity. We trained "up" to London early in the morning--that is, "early" as defined by Robbie which means "lauds" to me.
We thought that we might have time to go for a ride on the Eye before lunch, but that was a complete mistake. Even though it was a rather blustery morning, the streets were packed with tourists. We took a few snaps, and then tried to take the underground to Highgate, but the Northern Line–as Terry had warned us–was not operating past Kensington: "Curse You, Blair/Bush." See oral formulae still exist in English.
So, we climbed into a cab, and drove to a most beautiful part of London that I never knew existed. We met Anna for the first time and she’s lovely and smart and sweet and very tolerant of perfect strangers. We also met Nancy, their puppy Jack Russell Terrier who just loves being a dog. Terry claims to be allergic, but he obviously loves to play every bit as much as Nancy. Terry made us espresso and tea and then we headed across the heath (not to be confused with a fen though every bit as muddy on this day). Anna, Roberta and Rob wore Wellies, but Terry and I ventured forth with just dress shoes–not recommended. We both managed to avoid the every amusing face-plant, however. . . barely.
We went to the Spaniard Inn where Keats was reportedly inspired to write "Ode to a Nightingale." We drank some ale and ate fish and chips and drank some more ale, and stout, and. . .now it gets a little vague. We headed back by a different, though equally beautiful and slippery path. Terry tried to talk Nancy into washing off the mud in a duck pond, but she was far too smart for that, knowing there was a perfectly good hot shower at home.
I thought it was time to go; I mean, I thought we had already imposed too much on Terry’s generosity. He insisted that we come in for more coffee and wine and singing-along to the best bits of some Fred Astaire movies. I should confess that I interpreted a quick "Would you care to?" as "insisting." Terry also explained the genius of Mae West with his ever unflagging enthusiasm.
Finally, we did have to depart to catch a late train back to Cambridge. It was a local with stops every five minutes, but I noticed that Rob and Roberta smiled all the way back as I’m sure did I.