I am in the back of a car being driven (from right to left) by an old cemetery. The scene is bathed in warm sunlight, the small, modest gravestones arranged in a random, not quite cramped, manner. It occurs to me the feeling is of quiet reverence, favoured over garish opulence. We travel on down this winding road – the cemetery is on a steep-ish hillside, the sea beyond – stopping outside the 'Lora' restaurant -
I am at the entrance to the restaurant, noting the 'Lora' sign over the sandstone doorway, when I am greeted first by an older, bespectacled balding gent, then, coming bounding out to meet me (the singer) Rod Stewart. Rod is casually dressed, his shirt sleeves rolled up as he sprints towards me (opening with, “The energy companies are ball-less!”, triggering some notion of a security guard losing his investment?) and near-plants 3 sloppy kisses within the vicinity of my face. I say, “three kisses! That's the most I've had since I came here (here being Poland?)... and from a Scotsman”... (is he?) -
No comments:
Post a Comment