A long day’s journey into night

Yesterday I travelled up to London for a busy day with my tailor, art dealer and catching up with some old friends.

I took the train up from the coast but decided to take a car back as I was somewhat overladen. The hire car driver was a devout muslim. Having arrived half an hour late, I was taken aback that his first request was to be left alone to pray. I imagine that the residents of the elegant avenue near the Hurlingham Club were even more surprised to see a figure crouched on a  mat behind his car in devout prayer. I can only wish his driving ability matched his religious observance, as we had a tortuous journey through South London back to the coast. His first question on arrival was the location of the nearest mosque, an enquiry I could not answer. Imagining me to be a Christian, he  informed me that Jesus fasted fot 40 days, my interest was less in an inter-faith discourse and more that he should navigate me home before the end of Ramaddan.