We went over for a very brief visit to a friend of a friend, a rather curious gentleman who divides his time between Istanbul and elsewhere. A most extrordinarily evasive gentleman, with a knowing sideways glance, as though he is expecting you to share a joke, and a great reluctance to reveal anything about himself. I do wonder what his deal is.
He was staying in one of the city’s most beautiful old residential buildings, set around a courtyard and perched on a cliff overlooking the water. Quite lovely, though it was gratifying that the flat itself was quite similar to ours. The reason we were there was to see the furniture he’d had made from the carpenter we’re planning to engage, and it was good to see that the furniture was indeed of excellent quality, fell fitted together and finished well, no raggedy edges left out of sight, or as far as I could tell, putty sanded over to diguise defects in the wood.
We stayed for a bit to have a cup of tea and it was extraordinarily uncomfortable, or at least I thought so; the GF seemed to quite enjoy it, but he was in a rather more ebullient frame of mind than I was.