I suppose I should record, since it is one of those things that will probably be remembered – where one was on the night of the election – that I spent the evening in an Iranian restaurant, Lala Rokh, on Beacon Hill where people were watching television lined up silently at the bar.   I had my back to the television in order not to be perpetually distracted, but at 9.10 it was pretty obvious that Trump was winning and by 10.30 when we left that Ohio and Hillary were lost, inducing the deepest uncertainty and, in the only voter in the party, the most wretched gloom, not improved by a parking ticket on the car.