September 17th, 2006

La Contessa

(no subject)

The people opposite are having a small dinner party outside in their back garden. The garden is walled; all I can see is a glow of outdoor lights illuminating some of the trees that grow so haphazardly I used to think the house was abandoned. I know it's a dinner party because the laughter, civilized but friendly, is accompanied by the requisite clinking and whatever sound cutlery makes when it's rested on china plates. They sound as though they're enjoying themselves.

It's warm outside - warm inside, too - and that bothers me, but it wouldn't bother me if I had a walled garden to sit in late on a September evening. I always wanted one, and at least one other person to sit with me in it, smoking cigarettes and quite possibly wearing a ridiculously extravagant hat, probably a more restrained version of this fabulous Philip Treacy classic. Or this, that would do, too. Stephen Jones. Of course.

One day I'll tell you all what I really want to be like. As if you didn't know.

  • Current Music
    'Shock Of The New', Trees.