Happy Birthday K – she is 50 and had a party. The hog was roasted and the music started. Loud and absorbing, they wiggled and whirled, dancing with children like children. They walked home in the warm evening air under a crescent moon. The little ones sped on scooters with flashing lights leading the way.
The next day they spent a lazy Sunday afternoon in their favourite city … Bath … again! The man on the radio said it was going to rain but what does he know. They lunched on fruit bread and juices and the sun gently warmed them. They waltzed along the canalside, stopping for indulgent ices. She became very excited at the sight of a garage sale, but sadly there was nothing to delight.
On to the Holbourne Museum to view the Peter Blake exhibition. They had been promising to do this all summer and just managed to catch the last day.
Peter’s collections, creations and artworks, mixed in with a few presents from his friends. A magpie’s collection of curiosities. So much more than a Sgt Pepper Album cover.
Groups of the funny, eclectic, crazy, playful, clever and weird. Elvis shrines, Ian Dury’s rhythm stick, puppets, alphabets, hundreds of elephants, the circus bizarre and much more. Little man was captivated by the taxidermy misfits, especially the hare with horns and five legged kid goat. The collages filled her head with ideas … she doesn’t need any more … she has too many unfulfilled notions whizzing around in her mind already.
They tried on hats and wigs, pulled faces and winked. She rather fancied the wild Elvis cut with bouncing quiff! They laughed at her … don’t know why?!
They recreated their own Blake style dream box. A nightmare scene of talking sheep and ducks about to be consumed by giant glow in the dark caterpillars and scorpions. Rats about to devour the sleeper … BUT … all will be ok – the scarecrow is there to chase the dream away!
On to sweeter things – only Bath could have such a pretty little launderette named ‘The Dolly Tub’ with a lovely old Chemist sign opposite.
They wandered slowly back through streets of honeyed stone, trees already turning to amber and gold. They stopped to gaze and dream of the house they will never have. They have chosen the colour of the door. He will polish the brass. She has planned a garden of roses and he will have vines. A velvet sofa of gargantuan size. They will live halcyon days. He will take his morning run over the hill. She will potter with her vintage loves ...