Getting ready

Lunch today with an old schoolfriend and I’m getting ready to leave and reconnect with my life outside this beige room. London, eventually. But first there’s Lou in Brighton to see, and there’s an old pussy cat who isn’t mine but who’s been widdling everywhere again. Poor Lou, getting home from a hard day to be surprised by a damp sofa. There are builders on the roof and we think he’s anxious at the noises and smells and is expressing it through the medium of urine. Unless I uncover a secret wee-stash, I think I was pretty lucky for the months he was at my flat. He’s still kittenish, bouncy, affectionate and playful. But occasionally he desecrates a 1920’s throw. Lou doesn’t mess about when it comes to fabrics. She doesn’t have a washing machine and these things wouldn’t go in one if she did. It’s not an ideal combination, precious vintage fabric and pissy kitty.

Only a few days and he’ll get the cuddles from me as well as her and then surely there’ll be no anxiety anymore despite the builders on the roof. He’s a sweet little beast, and I know from Pickle that cats can quite quickly resort to biological weaponry. I’m looking forward to seeing him. Lou has even been taking him out in the garden from time to time so he can get all the sniffs. He’s mostly a house-cat but it’s mind expanding stuff for him in his dotage.

The weather has turned into an advert for Jersey. My friend and I sat in Royal Square and ate tapas. Before the menu came, he asked me if I wanted to start with a sherry, and then despite being told of my new approach to the booze he asked them if red wine came by the bottle. I think he might have been rather hoping and expecting to get fucked up with me at lunch, but instead found himself in the company of yet another evangelical teetotaler. A mission day through the perfect Jersey sun might have been a glorious adventure, and who knows what plans we might have made to be forgotten in the morning. We still made plans. I’ll just remember them tomorrow and I’m still feeling awake. Last time I saw him we polished off a bottle or two over pizza and then I stumbled back to the office for the company he runs and had a pleasant argument with an oil man he works with about the duty of celebrities. Today we had a coffee and politely said goodbye outside the office.

I’ve booked The Mornington for the remainder of my stay, giving up on L’Etacquerel this time for certain. Maybe next time I’m on the island. I really want to come here and make work now. It’s glorious, perhaps at this time of year in particular. But it’s not bad all year round really.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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