29 May - His new fuck buddy & Me

But before I go to the tropical island, let’s go to another one nearby. Land at Cork and they’re having a mini heat wave. Delightful. Pick up hired car and wait for others for drive Bantry way. Dear John arrives on flight after mine with Dear Sophie and we await his new/old flame Steph. Weirdly enough I’m not that bothered or curious.
We chat about his party in London last night which was notable for having the former Colony bar top barman Simon, making our cocktails in the flat with the terrace overlooking the Thames at St Paul’s. And for a leather jumpsuit clad female Elvis impersonator serenading the b’day boy (a year previously I’d organised a surprise do for him in the same flat and purchased the Elvis cake. For all that he says he’s not that into Elvis, all his friends seem to think he is). The party adjourned to the real Colony but as predicted by my own deep self knowledge…. I left them to it around 2am and that’s with a gap on 1 hour during which I foolishly attempted to find a parking space in Soho. Toph was gracious both in participating – I know these will never be ‘his’ people’ and not making any comments re. Dear John who looks so different from him in looks and personality. A woman in same circumstances would not have resisted passing some opinions. But my boy is a model of gentlemanliness. I mean, he must have wondered whether a year ago I was b’day boy’s sex cherry on the cake. Actually I think I went home but once again memory fails. I probably didn’t even detail it in this blog.
In any case when this year’s model arrives I only register she’s younger than me and the fifties type if any, or maybe that’s what I think every time i see a dyed black hairstyle. Actually as she’s blue eyed Irish perhaps she really is black haired? Mmmh, no. ‘s funny how I keep telling him I do see him with a local girl and he vehemently denies wanting to live in Ireland ever. He’s described her to me as a fuck buddy he’s known a while but clearly to other friends she’s the new girlfriend. Oh no, I must have equally been the subject of discussion with his other multiple-exes. I wonder if they even lay bets on how long one is meant to last. I mean, I’m driving, Dear Sophie (also an ex) is in the passenger seat and we ought to feel like old aunts looking at him in the mirror and knowing he’s squeezing her hand as we chat.
Sophie quickly distracts me as her voice is calibrated for open spaces or stages and in a small car it has nowhere to go but right in my ear. I do like her diction and I'm new to her family stories. She’s the daughter of certified bohemians and they’re not all they’re cracked up to be. She mentions an article her mother wrote in which she apologised to her daughters for being a bad mother (artist = alcoholic haze?) and that when she was a teenager the parents uprooted to an artistic commune in the middle of nowhere in dead boring Cornwall thus consigning her and sister to being the up their arses Londoners who had nothing but nothing in common with the local kids. She did manage to catch most punk bands in Falmouth though. And that dad left them to go live with his gay lover and has been gay ever since. I mentally add up the ways in which my parents are ‘odd’ and can come up with absolutely nothing. What’s strange is that Sophie has not rebelled against her background by going normal but in fact shares mother’s artistic field (both are writers) and though not so eccentrically dressed, she also wears signature hats like Sophie’s senior. I’ll think about this some other time. Can’t wait to see our holiday home for the weekend and grab a decent room or bed away from the boy’s quarters. I’m fine with all of this but have no wish to hear his 'getting down to it sounds'. That would make me too much of an alien if I didn’t care. Then again a certain Nick and g/friend are also on their way to stay us and they look like a loud couple too. Oh no!