Friday, September 7, 2012
Fresh grapefruit, a tragedy and old friends.
London agreeably sunny and warm . Ten years ago Londons hotels and restaurants were staffed by eager young Poles. Now the young Poles have been replaced by hoardes of eager young Spaniards. A sign of ' the crisis '.
Angus orders an ' English breakfast '. The young Spanish waitress assures him the mushrooms are fresh. They turn out to be fresh in the sense of '' fresh out of the freezer ". The grapefruit juice is also supposed to be fresh. Processed beyond recognition . Fresh out of the carton perhaps ? Strange how something with so much added sugar can retain the tartness of paint stripper.
A humdrum story on the inside pages of the morning paper. The words ' taken a sip of wine and placed her handbag on the floor ' adding a layer of pognancy to the report. The 'packed' restaurant it happened in right in the heart of the financial district.
Back home. A year ago an old oak tree fell on the barn roof. Now the roofer has shown up, late and unannounced, to repair it. He brings with him an amiable alsatian. At lunchtime ' the font' finds the alsatian, Hugo the malevolent Maltese and the fresco restorers proprietorial dog, all asleep in the shade of the cherry orchard. They can only just have met but act as if they're old friends.