George Town

DuPont Circle is the home of countless embassies, all of which have been attracted by the huge Victorian properties around here. It always feels a little peculiar to call American architecture "Victorian," although I'm pretty sure I've heard San Franciscans describing buildings in those terms. They probably think it sounds older or quainter.

DuPont Circle itself is a large roundabout surrounding a park about the size of Soho Square - except round. I'm pretty sure the Americans describe the few roundabouts they have as "circles". There's a gleaming white fountain in the middle of DuPont decorated with carved, somewhat Grecian imagery. It's a charming place to sit and think. I believe DuPont was a naval something or other.

We followed P Street from DuPont Circle into the ancient George Town district this morning. It seems a little brutal to name roads alphabetically, but I guess it's no different from using numbers. Because I've never considered letters before, I made Nathan cackle by mistakenly referring to P St as P Saint! It reminded me of my sat nav when it referred to St Paul's Street at "Street Paul's Street."

We passed a church on our way which was flying a massive "black lives matter" banner and a huge rainbow flag which said "all are welcome." It strikes me that if more churches were like this, religion would be a great deal more popular, and the world would be a far more tolerant and happy place.

George Town is my kind of town. It's full of tree-lined streets and stunning architecture; a blend of brick built Victorian buildings and delightful New England-style clapboard houses. It is incredibly charming. The people there seemed very friendly as well. A sign in someone's front garden read, "no matter where you are from, we're glad you're our neighbour." It was written in English, Spanish and Arabic. I got a sudden and overwhelming sense of familiarity which made me feel somewhat ashamed. I've travelled the length and breadth of this country and it was only in a deeply middle-class, bohemian neighbourhood that I felt I'd come home to roost!

The further into the area we got, the older the houses seemed. I'm not great at dating American houses, but I assume they were from the 1820s. In some places there were old tram lines on the road.

Wisconsin Avenue bustles with cafes, boutiques and art galleries and is remarkably similar to Hampstead. There's a very charming stretch down by the Potomac River, where people are encouraged to sit, eat, feed ducks and watch the world go by.

We visited the Old Stone House, which, built in 1766, is the oldest house in Washington DC. These days it's a museum and a bookshop. The museum is pretty bog standard, with a few rooms set up to look as they might have looked when the house was built. I didn't learn much from my whistle stop tour of the place, but did learn that 18th Century Americans used to sleep in two four-hour blocks. 8-12pm and 3-7am. Roughly. The time in the middle was known as "wakefulness", and was used for chatting, praying, reading and romance! The more I think about this, the more it makes sense. 8 hours' sleep has always been the recommendation, and we know we sleep in 4 hour cycles...

We were fighting the urge to do any more touristy stuff today, but decided a trip to DC wouldn't be complete without a jaunt to the Library of Congress. We took an Uber up there and were relieved to discover that it's not just all Uber drivers in London who are called Mo.

The Library of Congress is a masterful building with the most extraordinary entrance hall which is lined, floor to ceiling, with murals. The reading room is spectacular. I understand it's the largest library in the world. Visitors can stand on a gallery, behind glass, and look down on the scene of academic tranquility below. As a card-carrying member of the British Library, it felt a little odd to be an outsider looking in. When I'm researching my projects, those studious people sitting at the long benches are people like me!

We took an underground tunnel (slightly more romantic-sounding than it actually is) to the Capitol Building, which is one of the finest pieces of architecture I've ever seen. It is built out of shimmering white stone and is like a cross between St Paul's Cathedral and the Greenwich Maritime Museum. A pair of freaks were sitting outside with a full-sized mannequin of Jesus, complete with gowns rustling in the wind. All around Jesus were badly-written, anti-abortion signs: "Faroh [sic] kill the babies. Herod said kill the babies. Hitler said kill the babies..." A little doll was sitting on the signs in case anyone was wondering what a baby looked like. One assumes they couldn't find a foetus doll!

I deposited Nathan at a yarn shop this afternoon, which I was surprised to learn is the only yarn shop in Washington DC. Nathan had let his knitter fans know last night that he'd be there between 3 and 5pm and when we arrived, a small gaggle of women were waiting to meet him. I was the first to enter the room and a woman threw her arms around me, saying "Benjamin Till." It's amazing how much they've learned about me as a result of Nathan's regular podcasts!

I left him to it for a while, and by the time I'd returned, he'd attached himself to some sort of knit night. The yarn shop was full of very interesting looking people knitting - a surprisingly large number of whom were men. They were, of course, eating out of Nathan's hands. He was measuring a half-knitted jumper and liberally offering pearls of wisdom.

As I walked back to the knit shop, I had to think very hard about which city I was in. When you're in a different place every day, it can get somewhat confusing. Now I know how people feel when they're on tour, and they pull out of a town and can't remember where they've been. Backstage at the Sage in Gateshead and a sign reads, "you are at the Sage Venue in Gateshead." I guess it means bands don't rush onto the stage and shout "good evening... um..."

We ate our tea at Zorbas', a delightfully shambolic restaurant where I ate my second Greek Salad of the day. It's blissful to be able to eat salad vegetables again.

The night ended at Kramer Books, just up from DuPont Circle. I'm told it was the first bookshop in Washington to have a cafe and bar attached. It's got a really lovely vibe, and it stays open til 1am, which should appeal to the insomniac book lovers in the city. The back bar is full of cool, young, multi-racial Washington DC types. The cafe is called "Afterwords." Perfect.