On my way to Brick Lane, where I had a dinner date with Mary Barone and her husband Neil, I stopped at Wilkes Street to see whether Maya and Stuart Brisley were at home. They were not. Then I walked down Princelet Street to see again Christoph Klauke’s photographs in Made to Measure, an art space in an old shop that can be viewed through the shop window. A short distance from the place I walked by a woman who was coming out of a car. Our eyes met. She reminded me of the woman in Christoph’s photos. I was already at the window when I turned around to see her face again. By that time a man came out of the car, too. She started waving at me, saying something, and pointing at the window as she walked in my direction. “Bingo,” I thought. “Is this you?” I pointed at the window myself. “No,” she said as she joined me, “but this is my art space.” I told her that I knew Christoph, as well as Stuart, whose installation I saw there some time ago, and that I liked her space very much. We introduced ourselves to each other when the man, her husband as it turned out, joined us. Phoebe Tait and Gareth Harris. “Would you like to join us for a cup of tea?” she asked. I had twenty minutes to spare and so I accepted. We had a wonderful chat. “Thank you for being so unusually friendly and welcoming,” I said as I was leaving, already twenty minutes late. Mary and Neil stood me up, though. I rang at their door and called them from my mobile phone, but there was no answer. We must have screwed up the time and place of our meeting. I walked up Brick Lane to Cheshire Street to see whether Giles Prince was home, but he was not there, either. I ended up by having some tandoori by myself. In spite of all the people I had missed, the entire evening I felt fortunate because I met Phoebe and Gareth. Made to Measure, indeed.