In the morning I met a couple of friends for breakfast. We arrived at the chosen breakfast place, selected because it had halwa puri, and arrived to find it shut. The friends admitted they really didn’t halwa puri and had only agreed because they know I like halwa puri instead. I felt rather bad at this (and also foolish, since at least one of them is on a perpetual diet and I should have realised it) so didn’t object to the alternative plan of going to Gymkhana which I loathe as it makes me feel like an aunty (which, to be fair, I am). Anyway, we arrived there to find they don’t serve breakfast either, not even to the golfers, it seems. Odd, but Lahore is increasingly odd. So finally we went to Aylanto, which does an adequate job of the same overpriced breakfast every one restaurant in Lahore serves, with eggs benedict, variations on French toast, etc. I had a club sandwich. The helpings in Lahore restaurants are immense, perhaps out of embarrassment at their prices. Only the very very high-end restaurants (which Aylanto is no more) serve modest portions at even higher prices, and depending on the tier they either pour on the sauces or the salt and fat, or both.
It was a pleasant breakfast – early brunch by this time – and the conversation was less uninteresting than I feared, though I’m afraid I now remember none of it.
I returned and as I was driving in, a brother was driving out, so I hopped into his car and went to his place for a very pleasant chat and a bit of mild playing with his children, a rare treat as they are normally surrounded by nannies and more interesting aunts.
Then back home, a visit to my grandmother who was in a grumpy mood, and then various others arrived, so it was fairly noisy and busy for a bit.
Then most left and I went over to another relative’s who is planning to travel around for a few months. She wanted advice but her husband did not, so it was a bit awkward at times, but otherwise a pleasant evening, one enlivened further by Vietnamese coffee made by an elder relative who is a bit of an obsessive about various things including, these days, Vietnamese coffee. Also had a nice chat about feminist collectives with a feminist. I do wonder about solidarity sometimes – does it matter? She indicated that she wasn’t so sure, but she kept doing what she did because she felt she couldn’t do nothing.
After all these rounds I am back and looking, dismally, at the amount of work I have to complete. I don’t think I’ll manage.
There is more sociability on my short trips to Lahore than in my entire year otherwise. This was a slightly more sociable day than most but, really, not much.