It was raining. I took my Baskerville – a heavy oilcloth coat, favoured by denizens of Dartmoor[1] –but I was still grateful when a Stanley taxi-c...b hove into sight as I reached the end of my road. He stopped as quickly as he could, the wooden wheels with their solid rubber tyres not giving much grip on the slippery street cobbles. I climbed aboard and directed the driver to our destination – the Museum of Natural History in South Kensington.The journey was short and as uncomfortable as a ride. What? I did not fight her on this. Itseems like I do whatever she says nowadays. I slipped on a dress, heels,gave final hugs to Joan and we were off for home.In the car Cathy and I made small talk but her one point was how I feltabout Steve being there tonight for dinner. Cathy thought he was a real"hunk" and he seems to really like me.I told Cathy I was all confused about him. I really enjoyed being aroundhim. He is a very good dancer, but he is a man and so am I.Cathy jumped right in saying,. More

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