Yesterday, I went to see some lovely friends, Rosy and Iain for what may be the last barbecue of the summer. Super food. Marinated chicken and beef skewers, corn on the cob (whatever a cob is) artichoke hearts, swordfish, lovely veg kebabs, salads – including a potato one of a very high quality – and not a burger in sight. Not even a horrible one brought by someone who also brought their own beer and hid it in the shed. We also partook of some absolutely delicious wines and the conversation flowed freely and sweetly rather than trickling slowly out like the noxious fat from a cheap sausage.
And the sun shone. Yes. Would you believe it? I thought the days of sunshine had vanished like a politician’s promises the day after the election but no. Blue sky, warmth and the occasional wispy cloud. Hoorah!
They have a very pleasant garden, largely given over to children’s play accoutrements (climbing frame, trampoline, knackered apple tree) and some lovely roses, not to mention a lush looking lawn that has obviously benefited from the buckets of free rain we have seen recently. I don’t usually care about such things but I did ask Iain, as the man of the house, and a ‘doing’ kind of chap, what lawn mower he owns since, as I pointed out recently, I think he might need to use it soon and the grass is getting a little long. He told me he is the proud owner of an Oleo Mac, a stylish and Lamborghini orange machine which was apparently very good value and and very capable with long grass. In fact, our colleague Dick has just mentioned one in his recent blog. You can see it here…
After a fairly long chat with Iain and his lovely wife, and a few glasses of bubbly, I wandered off to let them do their hosty thing and find other entertaining souls to chat with. I meandered up the garden, stopping here and there to bestow various deserving guests and old friends with my wit and charm, which was diminishing fairly fast as I worked my way through my bottle of rather sumptuous white Bordeaux. At the end of the lawn is a rather attractive stone gazebo and as I ducked my head in there was this chap. Devastatingly handsome, with weather-beaten brown skin and dressed, as is the style around Hampstead in rather tatty and bohemian style with an old straw hat a faded linen shirt, chinos and some rather expensive brogues that had seen better days.
‘Hello. I’m Holly’ I said, raising my glass in a friendly, but ill advised toast as I splashed half a glass full of white gold on the stone paving. ‘You must be the only guest I don’t know.’ ‘Hello. I’m Blake’ he replied in a voice dripping with culture and vigour. He held an empty glass. “Have some wine” I offered”. And we started to chat. Well, what a fabulous chap. We talked about art, music, politics, the state of the world in general and, I have to say, I was totally into him. After about half an hour he gazed glumly at his now empty glass and said… ” Look, Holly I have to go. Could I take your phone number?” I happily scribbled my mobile number on a piece from my notebook and handed it over. He left the summerhouse and I sat happily for a minute, finished off the Bordeaux and realised I hadn’t even asked him how he knows Iain and Rosy. So I tottered back to the house to ask them who their mysterious guest was.
‘Blake?’ said Rosy with a puzzled expression. I don’t know anyone called Blake. Is he one of your work people Iain?’ Iain said ‘Tall chap? Tanned, straw hat, worn brogues? ” Yes. I know him. He laughed. “He’s a local tramp.” “I’m sorry?” I spluttered.”Oh dear Holly” Rosy laughed. Iain said “Yes he’s one of the winos from the park behind the house. I really must get that hole in the fence patched up. Wow. You do pick them Holly”. Rosy just stared at me, chuckling to herself. “You gave him your number? Honestly. Holly” she said, “You really should be more careful”. Another drink? “Yes.” I replied. “I think I’ll have an orange juice.” Oh well. Just goes to show. You find entertainment in the strangest places. See ya. Holly.
