The boat was not one of those fiberglass consumer cruisers, it was a classic Norwegian fishing boat with a two cylinder diesel engine that didn't buzz... it pooted purposefully, pushing up and around the periphery of the fjord. The captain's name was Jan, pronounced almost like 'yawn', and when Stoney called him 'captain', Jan smiled broadly. "Understand it is American nice thing. I like, but am not captain. Just man and boat."Jan had been working with Uncle Lars for forty years. He understood. There were still to this day patches of the red weed in Harringay and Finsbury Park, but there were always people out with saws and axes to cut it down, and often bonfires of the evil stuff burning bright - the only way to kill the alien vegetation for certain. I would make my purchase of The Times from the Newspaper & Tobacco Vendor at the corner of Piccadilly and Regents Street and go for a walk along Piccadilly. Past The Ritz and Green Park on my left, around Wellington Arch, along. More

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