Hi, All!

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Ronnie was waiting for me in her car outside the gallery. It was
a bright red TVR Griffith, with a five litre V8 engine, and an
exhaust note that could have been heard in Peking. It fell some
way short of being the ideal car for a discreet surveillance
operation, but (a), I wasn't in a position to quibble, and (b),
there's an undeniable pleasure in stepping into an open-top
sports car driven by a beautiful woman. It feels like you're
climbing into a metaphor.
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Climbing into what? What does he mean? :)

Bye, All!

Alexander Koryagin

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