30 April - Girls or Ducks in Baths
Still postin gon 16 May w/o editing.
I haven't seen DS since before Xmas. Time for a visit to the stunning loft. He's alone for a few days as his partner and son are in Denmark with the family.
It's lovely as usual. I walk in clutching the new Madonna album and he refuses to let me play it. He's got the new Portishead album instead and we listen to it. Eventually he relents and we skim through Madonna which, am sad to say, is not as good as the reviews had led me to believe. In fact, I pass it on the day after.
We talk over each other and he proffers this line at some point: ‘I’ve gone from being in the bath with 2 girls to being in the bath with rubber ducks and my son’. He says it with a wistful smile and he means to be funny, but I know what he means, life is cruel.
He’s fallen in love with a Nordic woman who, as default second country away from rainy London, would go to said Nordic country. He says he wishes he’d fallen for an Italian or Spaniard as he’d quite like to spend the rest of his life in those countries. It’s not so much the weather but the food. Let’s face it, Nordic country living does not throw up risotto with truffles or incredible prosciutto. But such is life and she’s a terrific mum and terrific looking woman.
On his kitchen counter there's an accountant letter informing him that they've transferred (a regular) £50k to a former business associate who he hates with a vengeance. Primarily for having managed to get a share of a business that he never contributed that much to. I know the man in question too. So DS. and I spend some time trying to work out what AC. does with the money as he and his partner live a very understated life and don't travel and last time I saw AC. he was wearing a holey jumper and looking very unkempt. I mean, if your'e over 50 and don't make an effort, it's all very close to soho dosser very soon. But I digress. I just wish I got cheques for £50k a few times a year... Extra long sigh..........
I haven't seen DS since before Xmas. Time for a visit to the stunning loft. He's alone for a few days as his partner and son are in Denmark with the family.
It's lovely as usual. I walk in clutching the new Madonna album and he refuses to let me play it. He's got the new Portishead album instead and we listen to it. Eventually he relents and we skim through Madonna which, am sad to say, is not as good as the reviews had led me to believe. In fact, I pass it on the day after.
We talk over each other and he proffers this line at some point: ‘I’ve gone from being in the bath with 2 girls to being in the bath with rubber ducks and my son’. He says it with a wistful smile and he means to be funny, but I know what he means, life is cruel.
He’s fallen in love with a Nordic woman who, as default second country away from rainy London, would go to said Nordic country. He says he wishes he’d fallen for an Italian or Spaniard as he’d quite like to spend the rest of his life in those countries. It’s not so much the weather but the food. Let’s face it, Nordic country living does not throw up risotto with truffles or incredible prosciutto. But such is life and she’s a terrific mum and terrific looking woman.
On his kitchen counter there's an accountant letter informing him that they've transferred (a regular) £50k to a former business associate who he hates with a vengeance. Primarily for having managed to get a share of a business that he never contributed that much to. I know the man in question too. So DS. and I spend some time trying to work out what AC. does with the money as he and his partner live a very understated life and don't travel and last time I saw AC. he was wearing a holey jumper and looking very unkempt. I mean, if your'e over 50 and don't make an effort, it's all very close to soho dosser very soon. But I digress. I just wish I got cheques for £50k a few times a year... Extra long sigh..........
posted by Lisa Taylor @ 6:34 AM
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