Neighbours. Sushi Samba.

On Sunday mornings Maisie volunteers at the City Farm for her Duke of Edinburgh award.
Maisie quite likes the farm but she doesn't like getting there at 9. am.
John is going to drive her.
 Sometimes I drive her but last night I had insomnia and I am not going to drive around London while I am still asleep so John has to do it. Maisie and John leave in the ashen quiet of the morning. They slam the door and I snuggle back under the covers and try to go back to sleep. Evil slinks into my bedroom and coughs copiously, her congestive heart disease makes her cough a lot, if she didn't cough she would drown. Evil tries to jump up onto the bed but she can't do it so I reach down and help her up and we both snuggle down and try to catch up on some sleep.
 "OI!" Says the man next door. "OI!! Put it down Bo. Put it down now!" the man next door shouts all the time, especially on Sunday mornings. Bo screams. "Yeah!" Shouts the man next door. "No!" He says, he's very good at non-sequetors. I put the covers over my ears and try to get back to sleep. The man next door slams his front door and the house shakes. I hate living in a terrace. "BYE, DON"T FORGET TO PHONE LATER." He yells from the middle of the road, he slams his car door and revs his engine. This can't just be annoying for me, this must be pissing the whole street off. Perhaps he's deaf.
 I have given up trying to go back to sleep, so has Evil. She eyes me balefully from the foot of the bed. I decide to get up and wash my hair because after we have picked up Maisie we are going to Sushi Samba at the top of a tower in The City for lunch and my hair looks like candy floss only not so nice.
We pick up Maisie. "I had to muck the cow out for hours." She tells us "Do you know why?" She says, "it's because a load of community service people have been working there instead of going to prison and they didn't bother to muck the cow out for a whole week. they just lobbed a load more wood shavings on top of her dirty bedding and the poor cow has been standing knee deep in wet wood shavings for days. It took me and Daisy hours to clear up the mess. Can we go home so I can change, I smell of cow pooh,"says Maisie.
Much later we arrive at Sushi Samba. Sushi Samba is on the 38th floor of the Heron Tower. We take the lift which goes very very fast and is entirely made of glass. This is very scary and makes my arms go all floppy. "It's like Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator." says Maisie.
Maisie loves it.
 The view is amazing. the day is still and clear and we go out on the roof terrace to see London. We see the silver green river twisting away behind the Gherkin. We see tiny Georgian terraces hunkered down next to behemoth banks and we see, in the far distance, a march of tower blocks glinting pewter in the light of a low winter sun. "That's Canary Wharf." a waiter tells us, pointing. "I know," says John "I was working there when it was bombed."
Sushi Samba is very nice. We eat serviche of scallops, skewered black miso cod and chicken in sesame seeds and peruvian corn. We try tempura beans with garlic soy and Nigiri tuna wraps. I'm a bit worried about raw fish but the beans are very good and I like Peruvian corn.
"Maybe we should go to Peru," I say.
"What about Japan." Says Maisie.
"Or Brazil," says John.
"Can we have pudding?" says Maisie.