Two days a week we had Maria, Rolands wife, in the lab, but her contract expires, and by sheer coincidence she's also heavily pregnant, so we won't see her so much the coming months. She celebrated her goodbye in a place optimistically called the "World Peace Cafe". I should go there more often! The New Age spirit hangs heavy there, but the food is excellent, both for the taste buds and the soul. And healthy. Maybe not very English; while typing this I suddenly think of the grimy breakfast of copious lard in a dodgy snackbar where the tabloids ruled, which the survivors of Chris' party had had only a few days before... the World Peace Cafe is a splendid contrast to such an exercise in chavish consumption habits!