London life

Well... the baby is on its way, slowly, reluctantly - forcing its mother into hospital, instead of leaving her happily at home with partner and birthing pool. Meantime Beloved is chewing his fingernails and so is Granny. Waiting is the name of the game; and hoping that all will go well in time; as they probably will - you know how these things are.

Granny will take herself swimming shortly to keep herself occupied. Meantime here are two little snippets of London life.

1. Some unfortunate people in West London found one day that they had a nice Muslim near neighbour, a woman with several children. No problem - they are Jewish but not prejudiced in any way. Shortly after the street was full of press and police: the Muslim husband had arrived. He was none other than Abu Qatada: not quite so fine. He is only allowed out two hours a day, but goes shopping when he does. Meeting such a man in your local shop brandishing packs of diet coke on the one hand and loo roll on the other, is all very well, but when said man is on record as wishing to exterminate you and your race it might get a little uncomfortable.

On the other hand even firebrand Mullahs need to keep their weight down - maybe - and certainly have to wipe their backsides, preparatory to washing them the way their religion enjoins. Such normality may be comforting. On maybe it isn't.

2. Granny was walking innocently through the Shepherd's Bush Market the other day surrounded by A Q's decently veiled co-religionists, among others, when she was accosted by a nice young couple, one sprightly, blond and female, the other carrying a movie camera on a tripod and male. 'We are from Channel 5,' they said, 'And making a programme about sex and attitudes to sex. Would you like to take part?'

Granny declined, politely. She did not want to talk about her attitudes to sex, let alone her sex life past and present on television in general, let alone on Channel 5 which tends to be superficial about such things. Judging by the heavy sighs of the two questioners they had received similarly unhelpful answers before meeting her. They were a very nice, polite, well-scrubbed young couple, and she was sorry to disappoint them. But even so. Looking about her she saw a pair of obviously Somalian women - should she suggest these nice young people ask them about female circumcision she wondered? That might put the subject in perspective. But no she chickened out of that too. Of course.

Meantime a passing Indian, deep in conversation, was surging his companion to stay put in his job since it was 'a cushy number.' 'Cushy numbers' are not to be sneezed at,' he said. Precisely.

Oh the hazards of London life. No one on Lanzarote has ever asked Granny's views on sex or anything else. And Abus Qatada, Hamza, whoever, are unlikely to turn up living next door cultivating maize and keeping goats. What's a relief.