When last I posted

Not to overwhelm everyone (assuming someone is reading this), I will blog in short bloggettes, so as not to , well, overwhelm.
In my second blog, albeit my last one more than a year ago, I reported that Amanda had found an apartment in London, where she and her husband, Michael, are living. Since so much time has transpired, she indeed has found a second apartment. They moved from their Notting Hill third-floor (three story) apartment to a garden level (cheaper but lovely) in Bayswater, a 17 minute walk from their Notting Hill roost.
They are in their last year of a two-year stint in London.
If I had been blogging like a good blogger you would know that we (Ken and I) visited them last summer when they still lived in Notting Hill and that Ken managed the 75 some steps up to their flat quite well. You would also know that Michael had rented a wheelchair to ferry Ken around not only London but Paris, where the four of us spent a fortnight. (It wasn't actually a fortnight, but I've always wanted to write that word in conjunction with a visit to London or Paris.)
If I had been a good blogger you would also know that in this last 12 months I've become a dedicated reader of NYT Sunday op-ed columnist Frank Rich. It, like Setgame and reading Kacey's blog and Margot's daily, are my most consistent weekly routines. I have also taken up with Daniel Silva and his Israeli master spy, Gabriel Allon, finishing a book about every three days this past month.
And you would know that my book club, started almost 10 years ago, nearly faded. But this January we pricked out fingers and dedicated ourselves once more to the monthly gathering for wine, food and book chatter promising to actually read the book, to have more than a passing familiarity with the books we recommend and to faithfully rsvp to the brave woman who agrees to host this group on any given month. We shall see how this unfolds. So far, attendance at January and February meetings was strong; discussion good (Red Tent) but there are those of us who are straying from the reading list finding it not up to its usual robust self.
And you would also know that I am approaching my 60th birthday tomorrow.