Sunday, November 01, 2009

White, compliment and secrets.

1. My aunt brings me a white potted azalea. "It's bridal colours," she says.

2. One of my friends (a teacher) tells another (a mother-to-be): "You're going to make a wonderful parent."

2. While we are being taught how to paint ceramics, the man from Timeless Treats brings us a box of cupcakes. In pantomime, I take delivery and pay.

3. I like to see most of the women in my life sitting round a table.

3. There are an awful lot of secrets -- Rosey won't let me look at a large dish that everyone is working at; and there's a mysterious book going round that everyone is writing in but me.

3. We sit up late watching a film made about an expedition of 60 schoolboys (including my father) in Norway. It's the year Nick was born. All the boys are wearing woollen trousers, and the leaders wear tweed. There are a few bright cagouls -- "Horrid things. They were so sweaty you might just as well have not been wearing them." Every time he comes in shot, the mother tells us how handsome he was.

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