New Years Eve at Re-loved ...

Anne walked ahead of me into Re-loved - Dorchester High Street was silent, as yet empty of revellers - we'd got lost, driving through this ancient town - John Cowper Powys had often come here as a dreamy boy - the strange magic of the Autobiography still held me spellbound - 

The lower floor of Re-loved was bedecked with beautiful vintage clothing - I admired the gauzy dresses, the louche jackets, the startling shirts - I wandered who had worn these  clothes - what emotions or memories might they retain, woven into the silk or wool? - 

We climbed up steep stairs to the dining room - quirky bunting hung from the high ceiling - coals smouldered in a large brick fireplace - a girl wearing silver shoes guided us to our table - a gentle guitarist played delicate airs - 

This guitar is small he said - the same size as in the time of Napoleon - I will play it like a balalaika - 

We watched his dark clever fingers move over the frets - tell me the name of a country he smiled - I will play you a song from that country - 

We ate nine courses over five hours - each dish I chose came to me served on curious china - 

Outside, a foolhardy boy scaled a Victorian monument - he waved to us from its summit - 

By mid evening, the men in dinner jackets had loosened their wing collar shirts - they started singing, drowning out the soulful guitar - women in black dresses took drunken selfies - 

A courtly couple slipped out in their mid European overcoats - 

We made friends with a tall striking looking woman and her husband - at midnight we drank a glass of their pink champagne - 

There was a carnage of wild bottles, carousing in the street below - more boys climbed up the monument - 

I glanced at the watch my dad had bought me - it was thirty minutes after midnight - 

00.30 

January 1 2015

Re-loved Vintage & Tea Rooms

Cornhill

Dortchester