Author Topic: Colons

Colons
« on: July 15, 2021 »
My old friend david, of this parish, visited my sister Hennessey a few weeks ago. That kiosk restaurant at the Serpentine was as neutral a spot as they could agree on for a first meeting. Evidently they got on well enough, although impressions vary. She had her usual press photographer with her, just in case, you know, but david paid him not to snap.

Hennessey is typical of our family, always high on life; david, on the other hand, was buzzed on – what was it? Oxymoron or something like that. According to my sister, he was swanning around like Margo Fountain, abusing the server something awful with demands for odd cocktails. I'm glad I wasn't there. Normally you could stuff a duvet with old david and he'd not bat an eye. To imagine him three sheets to the wind beggars belief in the great God of white bed linens.

Nate, the camera wallah, managed to f-stop david down to a reasonable exposure level, and Hennessey came out of this with a mention in Tatler the very next day. They ran that shot of her climbing the Old Vic façade during the Great Theatre Revolt, Lloyd Webber's latest anti-colonic movement.

Speaking of colonies, what am I doing here? I told the driver to take me to Onslow, and I end up in Wilmslow. I mean, how long did I nap in the back? Cheshire is a good few miles north of Surrey, to be sure. So, I did what I normally do when I find myself in the wrong place at any time. I stand at a street corner, looking lost. Invariably, a middle-aged woman in a Porsche will stop to ask if I need help.

This time it turned out rather differently. The Cheshire Constabulary itself pulled up and the one not doing the driving got out and said he recognised me immediately from my album cover photo. A fan!  Which album? I asked, as I was helped into the back of the car. Out of Sync. Oh. That's not my album, you see, but I figured the bloke whose mug was on an album called Out of Sync was probs rad dope, so I played along.

They said they were driving me to the rail station to catch a train back to London, but they got an emergency call to go toute suite to Crewe. So I ended up caught in a full-blown situation involving mounted bank robbers and an ambulance parked in the middle of the road, blocking the way, the horsemen riding up onto the pavement and away. My two constables jumped out of the car in hot pursuit, leaving me alone in the back.

What was I to do? I fell asleep. And when I woke up, I was in Onslow, after all.  It had just been my first journey through a wormhole.