Friday 21 September 2012

Rambling along - after the party.

I should point out that this month - ramblings - are just that; ramblings from my mind over the last two months (July and August) and do not necessarily represent me today. But they do constitute in their own way a part of The Archives. This is explained, i think, here.

I’m the first to rise with the sun as the day breaks over the debris of last night’s party that eventually died around 4.45am when the local Gendarmes turned up.

Only one person remains awake – a young male sitting absolutely still staring into the non-existent embers of the dead fire. 

I wonder what he consumed?

Plastic cups, crisps, empty bottles and, surprisingly, sushi lie where they fell.

A few of the revellers too.

I slept too near to the sound system to do anything more than drift off for a moment whilst the DJs argued about which piece of piercing unmelodic growl and screech to play next and now I have an overwhelming need to listen to something relaxing.

I harbour have an urge to play some Jack Johnson very loudly to add to the sunlight that must be causing a few headaches.

But that would be mean.

So I step to the kitchen and bake a batch of croissants for whoever emerges first.

It’s Zelinda – daughter of folk in the next village. She is locally famous for being found on her doorstep by an irate dad the morning after she had slipped out of the house whilst he slept for a way-past midnight rendevous with my son and one of his mates – an episode that ended with a midday crisis meeting and threats of a police complaint.

The local Gendarmes must hate us.

Today she admits to being a little tired and I asked her where she slept.

“In my tent. With Marie, Eric, Julia, Gaston, Pierre, and Mathilde.

It’s a two-person tent.

Next I meet two people I have never seen before and they jump at my presence sitting in the sunlight on the step outside my house. I start to feel like an outsider.

I say hello, they say hello and then they disappear into the bathroom that starts to gurgle much like some of the music that they danced the night away to.

From the forest my cat slowly and carefully emerges. He looks at me and his eyes ask – is it safe?

I think so.


Vicki Hollett said...

I like parties too. So varied...

popps said...

I was trying to convey my DIStaste!
Where did i err?