darlings

we *thought* people might have gone back to work today – and some of them did – but not everyone – so the Traffic has returned to normal (heavy) levels out there and the supermarket was Packed (everyone must have run out of food after the self-imposed forever two weeks that they’ve been cooped up indoors) and, well, it all felt a little bit like the last day of the Michaelmas Break (because, that’s exactly what it was, but we’re not going back to school because we left that a few *coughs* years ago).

so what now?

well.

some 80s tracks feel like a good idea to expunge (or revel in) the Angst of going-back-to-normal-routine (and finding sharpened pencils and fresh paper and that Latin text book that went missing along with the mathematics Prep).

makes you want to grab a pair of falling-down-socks and battered tennis shoes and dance outside in the rain, right?

delicious.

so – last day of the Hols.

what did you do?

we wrote a little (or quite a lot, actually) in the moleskine (#160) and made some phone calls to the Other Coast (we woke up at 6AM and they’re already awake at that time while the only people in Los Angeles not-in-bed then are thrashing out their career-rage on a stationary cycle at a gymnasium – and we don’t know any of their numbers anyway). 

who-we-are-in-RL opened some Post from Abroad and remembered handwriting from our Youth which was ever so nice to know we’re both still remembered by University-era loveliness (yes, that’s what she’s called by people who’ve known her in like forever – “sophs” – cute, huh?)

then we had a late brunch with Henry Miller (who is actually charming company, highly recommended). 

we chose somewhere austere and spare as per Mr. Miller’s request.

and then, because all the emails-had-been-sent and the People that were in their offices got back to us and we got-on-with-the-tasks-instantly but everything else got a “bounce back” *sighs* as people’s email program(me) auto-response features kindly let us know that they shan’t return until Mon Jan 6th (or Monday, 6th January if they were European)

so we went to the park with Mr. Miller and sat in reverence by the former Soviet Union memorial to its fallen soldiers.  and then looked over and noticed that all the men of advanced age sitting at the nearby stone tables and chairs, were talking passionately, in Russian.

you’re right – it would have made a lovely picture.

we *didn’t* take a photograph, because they looked like they would escort us Out Of The Park when they saw our Camera and when we saw the sign on the wall that said no gambling and, well, there were a Lot of dice around, we smiled and swiftly exited by the gate near the tennis courts.

and there you have it.

no tennis shoes or dancing in the rain (it’s L.A, we don’t own any tennis shoes, we’re from entirely the wrong side of the tracks to have gone to Tennis Camp, love) but very much a last day of the holidays sort of a feeling.

which means hello, Hilary Term.

now where are those sharpened pencils?

what’s that?

bloody hell.

there’s an entire weekend to go?