Richmond is posh, pale and under permanent occupation by the British propertied class and their retainers: their servants, shopkeepers, accountants and nannies. There are occasional forays by small platoons of the sporting class, mostly big beer bellied rugby men and their biggish suicide blond (they dyed by their own hands) girls. They love a rugger bugger on a wet afternoon.
She is from Brazil, via Huddersfield and Halifax. Her accent is Portuguese and Yorkshire, which is arresting until you get used to it, then it is always prompting a happy surprise from an unexpected northern vowel in the otherwise sonorous latin melody.
Nadjia was unhappy that night.
She was alone, stood up unavoidably by friends, and had been unlucky in love.
Strange, because she is very attractive, has the sensuality of the warm south, and a deep Christian loyalty that yearns to be married and have children.
We hope and believe she will find her man, and that the young cad who dumped her will get his desert.
Chivalrous London men, where are you?
The wind blew harder and the rain spat down, but we had to head off for the ill fated, by the weather, garden party across the river.
He was carefully lacquering a traditional clinker built rowing boat and we could breathe the loving care and attention he was devoting to the work.
Britain is safe when men like these are hard at work in our boathouses.
We got to our garden party in the end, and when we did, man, that joint was jumpin' and jivin' and so were we!