A face I'd not seen for some time appeared last night. She knew me but I didn't recognise her even though she seemed vaguely familiar. She flitted around in her drunkenness stopping for a few moments to talk to me.
Not until I was leaving and she insisted on giving me her number did it finally dawn on me who she was.
She worked in the pub before lockdown. Married at the time to a curry house owner clearly things had changed a lot since then.
Back at home somewhat bemused I pondered whether to contact her. A few weeks after the earth shattering news of Charlotte walking away do I really need another unstable and chaotic woman with a penchant for drugs and alcohol in my life?
I don't know the answer to that but I suspect like Charlotte Jasmine will be a flitting ghost from the shadowy past and the world of mental health.
When I finally got to bed I endured a night of disturbing dreams. One about mum forced me to get up at 8 am, ridiculous for a Sunday.
The sun was shining then. Now it is grey and cold. I feel tired and worn. And I know this coming week will be both busy and challenging.
With luck though what has remained unchanged since changing job will finally shift. Probably too late but it is needed.
In the emptiness of a grey Sunday morning I'm listening to Handel's Saul and have been reading Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. Almost finished. If that doesn't confirm that despite the comments of many friends I shall not and never will work in the food business I don't know what will.
At a more modest home roast rolled breast of turkey with sage and thyme wrapped in bacon is on the lunch menu. Looking forward to that.
I Heard a Voice.
No comments:
Post a Comment