During one of the Gentle Giant’s turns to come over to London, we were walking down the road when I sighted a bus we could catch. It was one of those old red London buses—the Routemaster with an open back for passengers to jump on and off—crawling along in the traffic jam. I said, “That’s our bus!” and made off for the bus. Running along beside me, he protested, “But we’re not at a bus stop!” (The Swiss are known for being law-abiding, even more so than Singaporeans.) I replied, “We’re in London!”
The next time it was my turn to go over to Zürich, we were standing by the traffic lights, waiting to cross. The light for the pedestrians was on red, but there were no cars in sight. As I stepped off the pavement, about to cross, the Gentle Giant grabbed my arm and held me back. I protested, “But there are no cars!” He replied, “We’re in Switzerland!”
(London / Zürich, 1987)
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