Londoning

Saw the doctor-consultant today. He suspects bilharzia, which I would have got from that damn swim in Usman Dam. I'm coming to deeply regret that dip. Never again shall my body grace Nigerian still waters. I'll get the results on Wednesday. It sounds perverse, but I'm hoping his instincts are correct: its an easy one to squish with antinomy.

How lovely it is to come back to a such a wonderful city that we know so well. After the hospital, Marlyebone High Street was as delightful as ever, as were the intricately proud Fitzrovia streets on the way to Tottenham Court Road. I went to one of my all time favourite buildings, Lutyens' RIBA and its fantastic bookshop. Then through the palace of sensuous delights deli-cum-restaurant The Villandry and onwards to Planet Organic. There I met a man who grows rare Japanese and Chinese mushrooms, once the exclusive preserve of emperors, which supercharge the immune system. He had a huge bright red mushroom he reared himself in Sussex. His honest passion for mushrooms bowled me over. I also bought myself a big bag of Goji berries, apparently the most nutritious fruit on the planet.

In the evening, we walked the handsome Bloomsbury streets from Clerkenwell to our favourite cinema the Renoir to see a strikingly moving new French film, Time to Leave (about a young man diagnosed with cancer). Then to the Hare & Tortoise, our fave Japanese restaurant just next door. Dinner for two came to £11.50. If only there was such in Nigeria. Then back along Lambs Conduit St, the loveliest street in Bloomsbury. London is such an inspiration, full of lovingly manicured gardens and people with highly specific passions housed in highly specific beings.

Meanwhile, back in naija, I hear that AIT has been closed down for broadcasting anti-third term content. The worry now is that road to hell is paved with Maradona (aka IBB) intentions. There's never a dull moment.