It wasn't over when it looked to be over. Three of us decided it would be over too soon that way, and as were all staying in hotels and on our own, we extended.
Sylvia, Jan and I decided to do a Thames cruise, but no luck. The cruise people closed the gangplank thingie about five minutes before we walked the twenty yards it took to get to said gangplank thingie.
So we walked across the bridge, walked onto a booze-barge kind of a boat – it was icky, and thus was a unanimous no-go, so we walked back out to terra firma, and crossed some main road (name? who knows?) and walked into an Italian restaurant. I think I remember it was a newish one, although I don’t have a clue about its name.
(Actually, I’m beginning to wonder about how I’ve made it through life this far, never really paying attention to the names of things. Hell, I can’t even remember the names of the things, I mean the men, I used to date a while back. Apparently, I live in a long-term fog, and apparently, I’m very good with that. Of course in order to live this way, it probably helps if the people surrounding one do know the names of things, and where they, and you, are at a given point in time. And probably, to know your name as well. But hey, that’s a whole ‘nother post, people. A whole ‘nother post, indeed.)
The food was good, and the wine was good, and the talking was good.
For some reason, maybe because it was after dark and we were all caught up on other talking, or maybe because there were only a few of us left, I don’t know, the talk meandered more into writing, and, even wine-soaked (I’m talking marinated, basically) I really enjoyed that talking – thinking through what might be working, and what might not be working, what to do about an outstanding query and manuscript for me, and how strange it felt to be distanced from my novel, what to do about point of view/voice on a project, and a couple of other things for Sylvia.
And it struck me, sitting there with Sylvia and Jan in the warm beiges of the room, how much I wanted this to simply go on and on, and not stop, because there aren't that many days in a life that take on sinuous extratextual meaning, and this was one of those days.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
As for the rest of Saturday…
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12 comments:
That sounds wonderful. I'm glad I got part of your visit, at least.
the photo is in a time warp and doesn't manifest on the physical plane till Monday
as for the name since you seem to be wanting a change in descriptive writing (lol).....it is the Chelsea Bridge remember we walked along the river bank after the LBF?
FH, I was just happy to see you! i was worried you wouldn't be up to coming.
Oh - wrong bridge, eh? Damn. I could have sworn I took a photo from the bridge we were on - so this must be the view from that bridge, kind of thing - but now that you mention it - this pic was in line after our South Bank party, girl.
Oh well!!
In the future film of your life, I propose the restaurant in question should be named Mystery WTF Italian Eaty Talky Place.
Ah - I know exactly what you mean. It's been ages since I've had a conversation like that.
sinuous extratextual meaningI think that's my new favorite phrase. *sigh* I just love writers.
McK keeps asking for gossip. As I see it -- and I've read all the travelogues -- there was no one sober enough to remember what was said. ;o)
All is good, though, since Robin has an outstanding query and manuscript, if she does say so herself.
Seriously, it's been grand reliving such a wonderful day with all of you! Thanks for sharing it with all of us wish-we-were-therers.
The restaurant was a Mozzarella Bar or maybe it was even called The Mozzarella Bar? I don't know, we were hungry and it was there and the nice olive-skinned man standing at the doorway winked at us which was what really made the decision.
I can confirm that "a selection of three types of mozzarella" is about two too many. But the wine was good and the company was divine. Looking at the map, we must have been on Northumberland Avenue.
It was only knowing that I really needed a full night's sleep to recover for the next day (I was flying in the afternoon) that made me finally remember that I did, in fact, have my own hotel room to retreat to.
I can't wait until my kids are in college so I can stay out late, too.
Le sigh.
You folk are setting impossibly high standards for the next meet up, you know. I fully expect a religious conversion.
I'm sorry I missed this but i also know in my heart of hearts that I couldn't drink any more. I would have loved the talking into the darkness though - even if I was just nursing a gallon of water.
You write so wonderfully I feel like I was there too.
(Obviously I was there in the afternoon - ah you know what I mean)
Hey paca and all --- we REALLY need to do this again, maybe in a couple of places, next year.
It's such a good thing.
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