Once in the restaurant, having arrived before my host, I decided to have a pee to make room for the champagne to come. This was accomplished by soliciting the assistance of one of the young waiters to stand guard outside the door of the disabled loo, as I can no longer manipulate the lock, and they once I had done my business, assist me to adjust my dress. He didn’t seem to mind but then what choice do I have. Similarly, when it came to ‘ dressing up’ with my two wrist supports, apron, wipeable sleeve and shoover, these were all put on in the best of humour by one of the Polish waiters.

When it came to going home, although ‘my lovely’ had insisted that I got a taxi, I was loath to do so, having had such a bad experience getting in and out of the taxi last week following and opted to travel by bus. I got back to Liverpool  Street Station on the Number 23 bus but stupidly took the wrong turning and went down Duncannon Street, missing the main bus stop and found that I had to walk almost a complete distance of the Strand  before I found a stop. When the bus  arrived the  driver, noticing my difficulty in stepping up, lowered the step which I thought was very decent of him.

I started with my favourite scallops and crispy bacon on a thin bed of mashed potato. Then, on dear Geoffrey’s insistence, I had lobster thermidor. The chef kindly extracted all the meat and served it as a sort of risotto, which was easy for me to eat with a spoon. I then finished with a crème brûlée, the whole lot washed down with a couple of bottles of decent champagne between the pair of us. Spread over three hours there was no obvious signs of intoxication and I’m pleased to say, no ill effects from yesterday tooth extraction – could it perhaps have been the liquid anaesthetic!?

I must say the staff at the restaurant were very helpful. When I arrived I went to the disabled loo, leaving a senior member standing on guard outside waiting to assist me to adjust my dress when I finished. (I no longer bolt lavatory doors since I found myself unable to get out recently). When it came to eating, the waiters were happy to fix my wrist supports and provides straws so that I could drink without lifting the glass. Is it really true that drinking champagne through straws, or indeed any wine, makes it more alcoholic?

I say a good day because before walking the length of Charing Cross Road to the other side of Leicester Square Underground Station, both before and after lunch, I went to PC World, near Liverpool Street Station, to look at their scanners – my old HP Scanjet has given up the ghost after around 20 years – changed an electric toothbrush, which I bought recently from Boots and visited the Carphone Warehouse to get my mobile phone topped up in readiness for China. I really felt that I had achieved quite a lot. I even managed to stay awake, on the homeward train journey and get out at the right station where I was picked up by my lovely.