Yours truly having afternoon tea in London near Notting Hill Station with Mr. Husband, summer of 1998, surrounded by fans and William Morris wallpaper. The proprietor was from India, and had good food and gorgeous china. I'm sure I could fine the place again—if it is still there. Not forgotten is stopping at an Episcopal church near by—where the choir was practicing for a concert. We heard them sing an English anthem which was quite lovely, then attempt something by Brahms, which was truly awful. This simply goes to show that you have to be on your game when you sing in foreign languages. Oops! That's my other blog talking!
Speaking of Mr. Husband, the New York Times recently had an article on how one should introduce a gay married couple. Of course, it makes perfect sense to me. It's "husband" all the way for this boy.