Last Sunday, a family of Afghan refugees gathered in front of a house in north-west London. They stood in the cold for about 15 minutes, waiting for one of the householders to step outside and meet them.
The delay was actually my fault: I was in the kitchen, standing around while a nice cup of coffee was prepared for me, from the grinding of fresh beans onwards.
[ Hi, it's John-Paul. This email is only for paid subscribers, and members of SPECIAL PROJECTS. ]