The beach is still the beach, even when the weather isn’t beachy. When it’s cold and foggy and the flip flops you stubbornly hold on to start cutting up your foot – the flip-flops you hold on to even though they aren’t a good fit, and they aren’t that comfortable - you still get the beat of the sea, and the wonderful unvoweled whisper of the foam reaching out, spread thinly on the heavy sand.
We like the beach when it’s like that – empty of beachgoers. We may have gotten a bit more than we bargained for in that respect though, considering the soupy fog and chilly evenings. Everyone was waiting for the weekend, and so were we – to get home. Where the sun was, as it turns out.
Thursday is my interview, and I am in official panic mode. There won’t be much sleeping the next few days.
On the drive back, a right-wing nobody blathers on about “homo-promo.”
We finished “The Wire” on Friday night. Happy with the lack of excessive speechifying, save for a few moments. When your drop-off in quality has you going from an A+ to a B+, I’d say you’re in pretty rare televisual company. I’m pretty hard-pressed to think of a show that, pound for pound, was as good for as long as “The Wire.”
I can’t tell if the summer will be really long or really short. But I am enjoying “A message to you, Rudy,” by the Specials. This may be my new favorite summer song.
This missing plane…I’ve done the other leg of that flight – DeGaulle to Rio. Security at CDG broke my bottle of scotch, purchased earlier that day at Spirits of the World in Heathrow airport. This was a flight where passengers were split into 5 groups. The way this goes for flights to Brazil is as follows:
1. The first group gets called. 95% of passengers board.
2. The second group gets called. Virtually all of the remaining passengers board.
3. The third group gets called. I am the only one standing at the gate at this point.
4. The fourth group gets called. Reluctantly – even though I’m group 5 – I board.
The heir to the Brazilian throne, were the country still a monarchy, was on the flight. Supposedly I have a relative who was involved in planning one of his family’s weddings. The family name is Orleans e Braganca. Something about this seems anachronistic: monarchs shouldn’t die in plane crashes. “The prince died in a plane crash” just doesn’t sound right.
And with that, I’ll probably take my leave till after the interview. Hoping for good news.
2 comments:
Somewhat off-topic, but "A Message to Rudy" is indeed a great summer song. So is "That's Not My Name" by the Ting Tings, which has held up nicely since last summer.
Oh, snap. You are right about "That's not my name." I will be adding that to my summer playlist!
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