I associated to the largest pours with which I was involved, things called pilecaps, a pilecap being a lump of cheap concrete, something called D one and a half (the one and a half for the maximum size of the aggregate used), a hundred cubic yards or more, sat on top of a cluster of piles, bored deep into the hard brown London clay. A large motorway bearing column was then erected on top of the pilecap. The column was A three quarters, the highest grade of concrete available on that job. A apart from A three eighths, only used for small, special jobs.
Pulled a Bullingdon off the ramp at Waterloo 2 and off to Roscoe Street to find that Stamford Street eastbound was closed so I was diverted round the cut (aka B300). A plus was learning that F. W. Evans, the owner or at least the ancestor of several cycle shops in the area had not arrived with the recent wave of two wheeled fashion, but had been operating in the area since at least 1920. This information being gleaned from a fading advertisement painted on a wall.
Uninterrupted bacon sandwich at the Market Restaurant, crowded, presumably because the rain was putting people off the otherwise fashionable street food outside.
A little early so I had time for a glass of white in the basement of St. Luke's. A substantial and nicely stemmed & shaped plastic glass, only marred by the mould marks not having been polished off. The manager told me that not only did they cost more than glass glasses, they also walked faster. It seems that the sort of people who attend evening functions upstairs think they will be good for barbecues and trouser them and he lost no less than twelve on one occasion. My glass was engraved both 'bbp' and 'ppb', but with reference 2 suggesting that the latter rather than the former was the correct formulation - although, oddly, they do not appear to sell the wine glasses in question.
Ms. Clein was back in her green dress and was squired for the occasion by Mahan Esfahani (from Teheran) on the harpsicord. Got on better than last week. Started off well with something modern from Hungary which, to my surprise, I rather liked. A cello sonata by Ligeti, a Transylvanian Hungarian of whom I had not previously heard and whose musical life, to judge by his entry in wikipedia, was something of an adventure. (The YouTube version at the top of the heap comes with one of those page turning scores which I rather like for home listening - but something one only rarely sees in public these days). Kurtág quite manageable being quite short - another György as it happens. Couperin good, complete with the assertion that the name is properly spoken with two syllables, rather than the three usually affected by English speakers. Bach sonatas very good. And having had a Bach violin remind me of a trumpet recently (see reference 1), this cello reminded me of an oboe, at least when playing long notes.
A large US businessman in the audience, complete with large baggage, saw fit to take a picture of the opening of the proceedings with his telephone, despite our having been asked to put such things away. He also left half way through. Presumably wanted to catch a bit of London culture before he caught his plane home. A good thought, pity about the manners.
Back via the Barbican Centre, still a fine building if a little tired around the edges. Bullingdon'd from Barbican Centre to Waterloo Station 3.
Reference 1: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/the-leather-thongs-which-hold-toggles.html. Also an aperçu into the way blogger does things. I must have put the title onto this post after it was first posted, so blogger identified the post by the first few words of the first line and did not bother to change when I got around to giving the post a title.
Reference 2: http://www.cafepress.co.uk/+ppb+drinking-glasses.
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