Alfresco
The sun is hot, very hot. We all wear hats. The wine flows. The conversation meanders. Voices are soft and lazy. Everything is an effort. It's 85 degrees in the shade. I move away from the table and walk around the garden snapping flowers with my camera. I view Beth's paintings which she has hung in the trees.
The conversation floats on the breeze. One woman says that she has been asked to deliver her paper at the European Conference ,I am waiting for an opening at Exeter University says another. The play I am writing at the moment blah, blah, blah---.
I feel ignorant, stupid, common and coarse. My voice is too loud, my ideas seem silly. My manners non existent.
A home for gentle folk is discussed. There will never be a place for me there. I get in my car and drive home.
And there she sits poking and prodding at her knitting.
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