My Innate, Old School Grasp of Romance
A burst of sodium orange signals the return to England. My iPod celebrates with a version of Cradle’s Second Nature sung in French – its usual irony clearly intact. Within seconds it is hard to distinguish between the blackness of the Chunnel and the darkened Kent countryside.
I did not achieve frites or a decent croissant while in Brussels. However, as the Eurostar rolls across South East England with the speed of a getaway driver hyped to the gills on dexedrine, the amount of chocolate I was importing made my trip feel like a partial success. The fact it was even bought at the shop previously specified reassured me that Surreal Girl would be pleased to see me when I arrived at St. Pancras.
Of course, as I had promised to buy her a glass of fizz at the station’s champagne bar she already had a good reason to be happy to see me safely return from the continent. Surreal Girl might be my best friend, but if the finest Belgian chocolates and a drink at the world’s longest champagne bar does not demonstrate my innate, old school grasp of romance, I am not sure what does. Not that it takes something similar to woo me. I am wowed by a crème brûlée gelatai or a poke of chips to be shared on the beach at Leigh-on-Sea.
I did not achieve frites or a decent croissant while in Brussels. However, as the Eurostar rolls across South East England with the speed of a getaway driver hyped to the gills on dexedrine, the amount of chocolate I was importing made my trip feel like a partial success. The fact it was even bought at the shop previously specified reassured me that Surreal Girl would be pleased to see me when I arrived at St. Pancras.
Of course, as I had promised to buy her a glass of fizz at the station’s champagne bar she already had a good reason to be happy to see me safely return from the continent. Surreal Girl might be my best friend, but if the finest Belgian chocolates and a drink at the world’s longest champagne bar does not demonstrate my innate, old school grasp of romance, I am not sure what does. Not that it takes something similar to woo me. I am wowed by a crème brûlée gelatai or a poke of chips to be shared on the beach at Leigh-on-Sea.
Labels: Brussels, Champagne, Chips, Gelatai, Leigh-on-Sea, Sodium Orange, St. Pancras
posted by David at 10:29 PM
10 Comments:
Very romantic.
I admit it, at my cote, I am a romantic fool.
Kudos to you, then. You must be in the .05% of the male population who are.
David, I really enjoyed your post, I can almost hear an English accent as I read your very descriptive words.
I came to your blog via Puss' Clairvoyance-I read it because of your photo and your Astrological sign-yes, I have odd rationales for doing things-but since it all starts in the mind, the romance of the champagne and chocolates, for a moment, I was Surreal Girl, though I know not who she is-will have to read more of your blog to see if she is there.
I think I like your idea of romance. :)
Nice place you've got here! My first blog in the mid-90s was white text with red accents on a black background, like yours. Although my blog decor has changed since then, I fear my writing has not. ;-)
I hope there is a wisp of sun for you today, amid your wintry clouds and rain. You can have some of my sun.
What a romantic fellow you are!
You so romantic. I am lonely Asian girl who will be your friend for good American money--for good times!
Please send me small cheque and pictures will come for you!
Very sweet, David. :)
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