Lionel's do at Maxilla's is on my actual birthday, but as I am not planning anything much for this year, I'm all up for watching Lionel get a decade older in London. 
And so it is that Georgia and I hit the 4.45 pm East Coast train to London. This takes just over two hours [a lot faster than we could have driven it!], and soon we are looking at Platform 9 and 3/4. Shortly after that Gig is ironing a shirt with her hair straighteners! Heavens.
We are at the Ravna Gora (which my Russian tells me means Even Mountains, and Rick's map tells him is a resort in Russia). And this is the same hotel that Rick stayed at when we were strutting our stuff at the Albert Hall, and then, at night staying at the Holland Park Youth Hostel.
The next building, on Holland Park Avenue has a memorial to the lives lost in Kiev, a sad testimony here in London, UK and left untouched, not quite the case for Royal Park [whose flowers have pulled from the railings after closing time].
It's a hop and a skip up Ladbrooke Grove, turn left at its Tube and now we see the back of Latimer Road and over to Maxilla's. Well, here's Grafton, Charlotte and Skye; Raoul and Adrianna (whom Georgia remembers from Switzerland and Paul Francis's wonderful new panyard; Hazel, Pepe, Marvin, Emina, Freddy, Christine, Haroun, Dudley D, Lionel's sister, Joy (with whom Georgia and I stayed once for no reason at all that I can remember), now here's Lionel, and wonderful, wonderful food, and then Nostalgia playing. I join in rather hopelessly later on. And have a dance with Lionel.
It's eight weeks and one day since my anaesthetic, and I manage two pints and a Corona, this beating Georgia's intake. Heavens! We take in the walk back down the Grove in the warm late March evening. On what was actually my own birthday, but not recovered enough yet to do it justice! So thanks, Lionel, for providing this lovely celebration.
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