Sunday, July 18, 2010

Throng, history and summer puddings. 

1. On a summer Saturday, around midday, there is likely to be a crowd hanging over the railings opposite the church of King Charles the Martyr. The bride is on her way, but the traffic has slowed to a crawl. The bridesmaids cluster like birds expecting to be fed. And the ushers shoo the groom back into the darkness. Once the spectacle is over, we cross the road and walk home round the back of the church and hear the organ closing off the processional. 

1. It's Louise's 30th birthday and Tena has brought 30 tiny presents. As the party progresses, she brings them out, and it's all "Empire Records!" and "foamy shrimps" and "slap wraps" and "Bodyshop soaps!"

2. Pavlova, which is a proper summer party pudding. And a chocolate torte which is so rich and boozy that I can only manage a single slice (although I have to be quite firm with Baby Badger on the matter).    

Done, moon and Irish fairy tales.

1. A meeting that is over by 9.30am. 2. A big full moon is stuck on next door's chimney pots. 3. By my bed is a large and comforting boo...