The parched lawns of the University and parks of Welwyn Garden City give witness that this has not been a write off of a summer. Sporadic yes but intense heat and humidity have marked days and weeks as we hurtle towards autumn. It is a beautiful evening. I had a quintessentially English supper of Coronation Chicken, organic salad potatoes and cucumber with a Spanish guest in the form of a chilled glass of Albarino. The marvel of genius that is The Marriage of Figaro is guiding my quiet evening and the start of my holiday.
Yes I have finally made it. No more work until 12th September. There are days out planned-possibly too many. I will eat too much and drink too much. I will visit Borough Market on my birthday with dad and maybe Beka.
What is missing from that equation separated as it was by a final day of work was my lovely evening with the always magnificent Ros.
In the intense heat and humidity of town on a busy Thursday evening we regained ourselves for a few hours. A pint in The Porcupine then on for the first time in some years Jamon Jamon on the site of the old Sporting Pages bookshop on Charing Cross Road. It was carnage there. The food almost as sporadic as the sun, stretched but friendly service, nice but not overly hot tapas and wonderful company.
The two of us have had a lot of downs since we last met and certainly not enough ups. Yet when we meet we talk as true knowers, searchers and believers. It reminded me that at times I'm most at home in the company of people who know the mad world.
We both know it and on the face of it we have both defeated it. We got out. We don't always stay out but are not where we once were.
I hope it is not another year before I see her. I know she will read this and may find it emotion provoking. But Ros we did it, another year. Let's meet sooner next time.
I Heard a Voice.
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