One month in, I live here now:
I am up the stairs, and up the stairs some more.
Late Saturday morning ’round the corner at Diana’s Diner, there are potatoes in their jackets, and a pool of baked beans. The hot chocolate is from a packet. The man in charge is dark-eyed, with big hands. He calls us “beautiful people”: “Yes, beautiful people, what can I get you.” Over in one corner the skinny girl reads a detox-diet book through her cloud of cigarette smoke. At another table, a mussy-haired guy in fitted jeans and the Financial Times.
The sign in the window at my local chippy reads: “jam sponge banana fritter sticky toffee pudding £2.50”. Nights, they turn on the globe lights strung in the trees so it looks like the birds are having a party.
For weeks now the clock at my bank has had a handwritten note pasted on its face: SORRY!, THE CLOCK IS BROKEN. NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE YOUR OWN TIME.
Tomorrow I turn twenty-nine.
I am up the stairs, and up the stairs some more.
Late Saturday morning ’round the corner at Diana’s Diner, there are potatoes in their jackets, and a pool of baked beans. The hot chocolate is from a packet. The man in charge is dark-eyed, with big hands. He calls us “beautiful people”: “Yes, beautiful people, what can I get you.” Over in one corner the skinny girl reads a detox-diet book through her cloud of cigarette smoke. At another table, a mussy-haired guy in fitted jeans and the Financial Times.
The sign in the window at my local chippy reads: “jam sponge banana fritter sticky toffee pudding £2.50”. Nights, they turn on the globe lights strung in the trees so it looks like the birds are having a party.
For weeks now the clock at my bank has had a handwritten note pasted on its face: SORRY!, THE CLOCK IS BROKEN. NOW IS THE TIME TO MAKE YOUR OWN TIME.
Tomorrow I turn twenty-nine.
posted by stellou at 4:27 PM
6 Comments:
Happy Birthday in advance! Hope you get something sweeter to eat that baked potatoes with beans. I have heard good things about the cakes at the Harrod's food hall (always worth a visit, even if you don't buy anything).
I like that; make your own time? Did you tell the teller-person; it is now time to hand over the money!
ahem!
So HAPPY BIRTHDAY Ms. Stellou! I hope you have a wonderful treat of a day which includes something sweet and savoury.
Joyeux anniversaire, chere stellou!
I'll dream of a Berthillon cake for you.
Now I feel like a total rat's ass because I didn't know it was your birthday :(
Happy birthday!!
I'll get you a Lana cake the next time you're in town. Promise!
Happy Birthday Astella! We're sprinting toward 30, aren't we? Hoping you have many happy days this year.
Maria
Thank you, everylovelybody!!!!! You are NICE!!!!
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tscd: i feel okay about baked potatoes, but, HEY, birthday or no, don't knock the beans. :-) meanwhile, it wasn't till reading your comment RIGHT NOW that i realise i haven't had any cake yet. harrod's, here i is!!
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saffron: hi, funny. in fact probably the teller would have appreciated it: he is a white-haired gent who said to me, when i opened my account: "and when you get your chequebook, start using it immediately!" hmmm.
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cour marly: oh, you are nice. and, p.s., if you can dream the dream so that actually a berthillon cake shows up on my doorstep, that would be very, very nice.
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tym: rat's ass, hey? aiyah, donch panic lah, auntie. i am the sort that celebrates my birthday over the course of several weeks. ho-ho! also, the thing about the rat is, we were in greenwich yesterday, marvelling at the painted hall at the old royal naval college, and the guide to the amazing painted ceiling points out all sorts of things, bacchus here, liberty there, that sort of thing, and then A RAT TO REPRESENT THE PLAGUE. wah!
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maria: well... i don't know about this sprinting thing. more like a topsy-turvy delicate graceful stumble in gold wedge heels, no?
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