I'm cutting myself a little slack here. This photo was taken at the end of August but that was a quiet month on Bah! Humbert so I'm allowing a little nostalgia to creep in. I'll let you decide for yourself whether or not this has anything to do with me feeling photographically uninspired at the moment, life being as full as it is of things that happen to be diverting me rather more.
This shot was taken in an old-fashioned Italian café at the Marina, in which one of the largest and most beautiful coffee machines I've ever seen looms like a church organ in the corner, manned by the owner of the establishment, a man who obviously takes great pride in making a damn good cup of coffee. It's the kind of place in which apron-clad waitresses swoop from table to table dispensing good cheer and amazingly dangerous looking cakes, all bathed in a golden glow produced by many spotlights hitting many beige surfaces. It reminded me of a long-gone coffee shop called Buttery One in the middle of Dover, where I used to go as a teenager with fellow public school ne'er-do-wells to sip the same cup of tea for three hours, smoke countless Marlboros and try desperately not to say the wrong thing in front of my mates.
So we sat there for a while, me and my two kids, as I remembered my adolescence and they worked their way through vast piles of home-made ice cream. It was a good afternoon.
2 comments:
lovely post and pic too :-)
I smiled ... really smiled when I read your reference to Buttery One - we did that didn't we ... kept the same cup of tea for bloody HOURS and smoked Marlboro after Marlboro ad nauseum...
WAIT. I still do that - LOL :-)
Yet again I am stunned that you felt nervous about saying the wrong thing, because we all remember you for your fast wit and I never for one second imagined that you were nervous about saying the wrong thing. It's a shame that you had those times tainted by that worry ... it was unwarranted my old friend. We all loved your company and you always had that ability to say things, that fast British dry humour. When you were there a lot of the conversation was probably directed by yourself because of your ability to play on words, even back then.
Thanks Margo, that's very kind of you. I don't think I worried any more than any other teenage boy about saying the wrong thing. Although this isn't saying much of course, as worrying about saying the wrong thing kind of comes with the territory doesn't it? Unless you're a Young Conservative.
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