Monday, August 12

I have booked a table at Zizzi in Bromley for me, Mark, Jack, Denise, Casey, Ohemaa, Gifty and Kesewaa.

Mark and I get there five minutes early to learn that half an hour earlier the hot water system exploded, leaving a mess and a restaurant destined to close for the night and possibly the next day. The young woman in charge does an extremely good job of explaining this in a way that leaves us both feeling happy to have a part in this drama.

I phone Jack, who tells me to give him a minute to think while he parks. He phones back seconds later with the address of Havet, a Turkish restaurant he knows, where he has walked in and got a table for eight. We walk round and meet them

At some point Kese, their rather wilful three year old, comes round and sits on the table by me. We have a long conversation in which she explains to me the colours of the butterflies on her dress. She does this mainly by quizzing me: “Can you see the purple ones? Where are they? Can you see the orange ones? Where are they?”

At some point, after we have finished a long counting game triggered by Ohemaa handing us a note asking us to count to sixty, I photograph Kese.