Late but worth the wait

A good friend of mine flying in from the States on his way to South Africa landed with a generous twelve hour layover at Heathrow airport (luckily dodging the BA strike by a shift or two), so naturally we made plans to meet up.  I caught the first coach to London this morning, caught the express train into the City, the tube to Charing Cross, and then caught a cold whilst I stood outside the National Gallery under the pouring drizzle to wait for him.  The arrangements were loose I'll admit, and I worried that he'd got lost, or even had the temerity to leave the airport. 

But I didn't gripe at being stranded at Trafalgar Square. It was a black and red pageantry of taxis and buses versus tourists and pigeons which flurried beneath the great neck of Nelson's Column, while his nobler cousin Big Ben loomed over his shoulder sitting comfortably in the mist by Thames.  Nay, did I grumble one bit.  After an hour or two of waiting, I retreated to the nearest coffee boutique which had sofas, warm jazz, and free wi-fi, and I watched my London whirl on by.