Lunch with Jeremy again and swinging breasts

Over to Jeremy’s again for lunch. As I went cycling down the street I saw a beautiful black woman walking along, a sweet smile on her face. She certainly seemed to be enjoying the sunshine, loose breasts swinging back and forth under her T-shirt, nipples standing out. I didn’t feel sorry for the men in her path, however frustrated they might become, I just thought “go for it girl”.

Further along the way I passed the projected mosque in Baarsjesweg, still just a building site. There were a couple of workmen by the entrance and I stopped to ask them if the building was going ahead. They were evasive. Later Jeremy talked about the reasons for the delay.

Lunch was on the balcony, this time under an awning to keep the hot sunsine off. J. drew my attention to a little oak tree in a tub which he said had seeded itself. Visions of a bird flying overhead and shitting an entire acorn…….

On Koninginnedag, J. had stood on the street in the centre of town and sold some of his clothes and kitchen things. I told him that I had seldom been out to take part in Queen’s Day and asked him what the gay parties round Reguliersdwarsstraat are like. He laughed at me, as if to say “how stupid that you don’t know”. But he added that the crowd roundDe Amstel Taveerne is just great and asked me why I never go. He said it was hard to see some of his possessions get sold and I said that when I say goodbye to material things I sometimes give them a kiss. I do that now even with tram tickets before I throw them in the bin. It doesn’t strike me as very normal. And lately when I roll up my apron after work (at the Sorting Office), I sometimes unroll it again and then redo it more neatly.

J. had been to a Handel opera the previous night, so we talked a bit about Baroque as opposed to Romantic opera. His reaction to anyone decrying Puccini is “oh fuck off”. I agreed. We talked also about Poppea and that fantastic final duo Pur ti miro. No words can praise that enough, but I told him that it’s reputed to be by someone other than Monteverdi.

Mentioning this to Michael Bonaventure who arrived yesterday evening, he asked me if I have the Ave Maris Stella from the Vespers. So then we both raved about that too…… words can praise…….etc.etc.

Michael has been cracking up laughing whilst watching the porno channel on my TV in the background. He’s looking forward to “British Bang Babes” on Friday. We discussed my idea to replicate all those high pitched cries and moans in a piece of music. And I told him about my Scots friend Hamish who can do a perfect imitation. Also another story from a friend who once attended a premiere in Aldeburgh Parish Church where the composer had included all too convincing sounds of a female orgasm.

Jeremy told me you can now have a genetic test to determine your ancestry. People are finding for example that they are 10% Asian, 30% Welsh and so forth. But as yet, it’s very expensive.

J. also talked about his ex-boyfriend. He asked me about my situation and I answered, getting so bogged down in the detail that I suddenly said “sorry, I AM getting to the point”. (Nowadays I go into great detail when telling a story and exhaust myself. It must be still worse for those who have to listen). I said, “shall we talk about this another time?” – I knew he was quite keen to continue work. Lunch had taken two and half hours. I did the washing-up and left.

Cycling back I thought again about the lovely woman with swinging breasts and how I would vote for her one thousand times, but just once for the arrival of a new mosque. I said to myself “you are very wrong to think that”.

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