Day 7: A Day of Rest

  It started as a tickle in the back of my throat yesterday. As I wandered the rooms of the National Gallery I tried to ignore the growing discomfort. It's just at\ little dry spot I told myself. I just need some hot tea. By this morning I couldn't deny it any longer: I have a cold.

  All I really wanted to do was lay around in my p.j.s all day, but the cleaning lady was coming, so we had to vacate the flat by nine o'clock. Greg and I trudged up and down Bond street until I figured she had finished, and then I headed back to the flat. There I spent the rest of the day napping and catching up on laundry.