London hell

So I went up to London last night. Firstly, the train was half an hour late - and I had to catch it from Swindon, because of engineering works at Chippenham. Then it was overheated. Then, at the station, I went into a shop to buy some drinks for Notty's end-of-term party, which I'd forgotten to get earlier, and the cashier immediately put them in a plastic bag without a 'do you want one?' I almost yelped at her to put it away, and she looked at me as if I was a mad woman.

They were giving away free umbrellas with the Evening Standard. I dithered for a minute, wondering about the ethics of taking what was clearly a bit of mass-produced tat, before convincing myself that we really needed an umbrella (which, of course we don't). I took it onto the tube (four stops = £4), and as I was getting off at Gloucester Road, the handle came off, leaving the bulk of the umbrella on the tube.

It was a family dinner at Blakes. I weathered the usual teasing from Jonathan about whether I had cycled to London, and then explained to Sascha what a blog was, and to Maria why we had given up flying. Still, it was fun, and for an hour or so, I enjoyed the champagne and forgot all about being a Green Wife. Then came the Black Cod.

Oh God. We practically gave up eating fish about five years ago - out of concern for dwindling fish stocks. Most of the time I don't miss it. but black cod with miso sauce, meltingly delicious. I'm afraid, at that point I stepped over my own personal boundary of greenness. And boy was it worth it.

I sat on the late train home, warm in the glow of good food, and wasn't quite sure whether I should be feeling guilty. On the whole, I have decided not. Just as working makes me a better mother when I'm with my kids, so eating the occasional endangered species keeps me on the green and narrow. I won't order it, but if it's presented to me, I'm sure as hell going to enjoy it.