Posted Monday, January 28th, 2008
Women Do Lunch
I am glad to be here with my neighbours on this back veranda, on this spacious hilltop, where it never rains and the eucalypt leaves glimmer like silver coins. January should be stinking hot, but a soft breeze fans us, and I notice we all have chapped, dry feet, because we are country girls really, whether born and bred or not, we have ended up here, on this hilltop. The food is delectable - all our specialties - we all agree there is no coriander in the garden, (and so where did you get it?); and there's plenty of wine, the kiwi white as crisp as a winter's day. The conversation starts with medical conditions, we are all getting a bit old and fat, some menopausal, and others still waiting for our children to become teenagers, and taking all the advice we can get, but the talk gets better, like how so and so's new girlfriend is much nicer than her old husband, and the question to the teacher - can you tell in grade two if a boy is going to be gay, and yes, we would all prefer to be in Dublin than Lowood, and is Patrick White a pretentious git, and how about the tattooed penis we got via email; the children are invisible, soaked in chlorine and their own games. Oh, that this day would never end.
Comments [post a comment]
Posted by Donna Levy [ email@example.com
] on Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 at 7:22 PM
I am struck by the mood you created in just one paragraph. Well done. Thanks. Donna