This weekend, I left a copy of Gardener's World Magazine in the Magic Cafe, having left the Bhuto dancers' after show party before the end because I had drunk too much red wine in Leamington Spa. I met a 15 year old skateboarder from Aldermaston on the way there (on his way to a falconry in Yorkshire) and a 40 year old engineer from Mumbai on the way back (on his way, bless him, to Banbury). My trainers are still covered in Warwickshire mud and I am full of rediscovered warmth for A, who, among other things, understands why it's hard to order king prawns from the Chinese takeaway (the mangroves! the mangroves!).
The next day, I had the pleasure of wrapping up a cutting edge (arf!) lawn edger for R, who had, I hope, equal pleasure in unwrapping it. Much fizz, many posh snacks and general party fun ensued, plus a bit of mental John-we're-only-dancing. Smelly cheese for bank holiday breakfast, a bit of how big are those hailstones and what month are we in exactly, then off to bed to finish Divided Kingdom, which left me feeling butterflied like a Mekong prawn. I did the quiz on the website, and I'm a melancholic. If you read the small print, it's actually the sanest thing to be, though I rather fancied myself a phlegmatic.
joella
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