Wheels within

When I brought Firstborn to Bristol nineteen years ago to start uni, I researched a vegetarian restaurant, Maitreya, where we could have a celebratory lunch. It was in a small place out of the centre that I'd never heard of, called Easton. As things turned out, there was too much to do moving him in and we never got there.

Years later, after he'd finished uni, got a job away from Bristol then, to his delight, got a job back there, he moved to the other end of the same street as Maitreya. Two of his cousins also moved to Easton and I got to know and really like the area. When I was house-hunting six years ago, this was the bit of Bristol I looked at, before finally deciding to stay in Oxford. (I'm still not completely sure about that decision.)

This morning we walked the mile from where he now lives to the Garden of Easton (an amazing cafe full of plants and polished plywood) which has taken over what was Maitreya's building, for a lazy, chatty, two-hour brunch. Then walked back along different Easton streets.

Nineteen years ago, who've thought...