no cake 'til Kingston

Poor Clarey. Despite a reportedly vast breakfast and a wee cakelet of her own with her coffee she still gave my dad's cake-thing the odd wee glance until it disappeared. Thankfully we were spared the ordeal of having to find somewhere which served, order, wait for and eat a Sunday lunch-style meal thing in Stockbridge by everyone changing their plans and coming back to Newington after their breakfasts so we were able to head to Metropole instead which does far better coffee than almost anywhere else in town and is excellently-lit for the purposes of sneaking pictures of fambly members. Clare usually scowls and averts her face but was being unusually co-operative and even mother wasn't deliberately hiding behind her hair all the time. Of course, they didn't ever quite not scowl and not hide at the same time when in the same framesworth of space but a natural unposed all-family shot would probably be too much to ask until someone invents a little floating remote-controlled invisible camera-drone which can float about silently until it gets the right angle. I would have tried to do the same thing by standing up and bobbing about but the other customers might have objected if the right place to be was above their table.