When I'm in town on Sundays I sometimes go down to the Central Bar in the East Village to watch English football. But my natural inclination now is to get in the car with my wife and kids and get out of town.
As I pass it I feel as if I saw a dear old mother sweet in her weakness trembling at the approach of her dissolution but not appealing to me against the inevitable rather endeavouring to reassure me by her patience and pointing to a hopeful future.
