Lunch at Beth's ...

After lunch at Beth's, I closed my eyes, lingering for a while in warm silky dreams - the chimes of an antique clock striking the hour woke me - it was three o'clock - 

Beth was serving tea - the room was like the cabin of a yacht, compact, well appointed, its every aspect promoting comfort - I gazed at the paintings so familiar to me, the views of Poole Harbour, the figures upon an Edwardian beach - I reached for my lemon drizzle -

I always felt relaxed and calm upon this sofa, next to the bookcase with its gentle volumes - one drowsy afternoon, I thought, I might read a few pages of Simon Jenkins' England's Thousand Best Churches - 

On a sideboard there was a photograph of Anne's dad - I wished I'd got know him more - there was a sad wisdom in his smile - even now it made my heart ache - 

I remembered every moment of that drive to Chichester, the music from the car radio, the strange brightness in the air - 

15.00

January 10 2015

Wincanton