We had lunch at Cafe Rouge in Highgate today before driving down to the Southbank to celebrate our friend Ian's birthday. It was a lovely, cosmopolitan crowd. I often shy away from meeting new faces, but felt very comfortable chatting today.
What a difference a day makes when it comes to the weather. It's done nothing but tip it down all day, and we've taken a couple of proper soakings. I'm looking out of our sitting room window at hundreds of shimmering halogen needles hurtling down underneath the street lights.
I've now added up all the marks I've received for the various gravestone inscriptions. The most popular by far belongs to a person called Yasi, who died in 2000, and is buried out in Brookwood Cemetery. It simply reads "and we laughed and laughed and laughed..."
350 years ago, Pepys kicked things off by giving his wife Elizabeth 4l to spend on lace. She pottered off to the shops, no doubt with a big smile on her face, whilst he went to see his friend Robert Slingsby to play a game of bowls in an alley somewhere in the City.
Back at home, the very hot weather took Pepys out onto his roof, where he sat for hours playing the flageolet. He was joined by Sir William Penn who was in his shirt sleeves. The two men sang until midnight under the light of the moon. They drank claret and ate Bortarga (a Spanish fish delicacy) with bread and butter. Sounds idyllic.