Sailing Away in a Golden Rowing Boat in Libya

Sailing boat in Libya

“I just got fed up,” I explained to two women I had bumped into in the street. I had landed in Libya . “I am going to travel around Africa,” I continued. “I’ve done it before…” I pictured my route, westbound from Libya then down towards the equator. “Upped and left.”

My company had given me a new phone just before I departed, bright orange cover, large and rectangular, not like the iPhone I was used to, or like the flip phones the business women were carrying.

Perhaps I could go with them, even join their company?

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Don’t Bring Your Laundry to a Party

Don’t bring your laundry to a party

I am with a platinum blonde, bolt straight hair, almost silver in color, cut in a bob. She is thin and tall, has a soft pouty face. We are having a party in my apartment. A good view of the city. I sense she is a little bored; of the party, or of the guests, or perhaps she is not into me as much as I am into her. Siobhan is there, as well as Nena’s friends. The woman is leaning against a doorway, surveying the room and I look up at her.

You. Are. Gorgeous, I tell her. She instantly brightens up, gives me a wide smile.

Let’s have some Pimms and take a bath, she announces.

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Mud, Tunnels and a Citroën 2CV

A Citroen 2CV

I am going to a restaurant in Hanwell, stopping first in one of the side streets to drop off both Siobhan and Liam. It is badly lit. And there is thick brown mud everywhere.

“I will park and meet you there.” They go on ahead. But I don’t need to move the car, I am already in a good spot, though my Citroën 2CV is pressed perhaps too close to the curb, hub caps and tires covered in mud. It is between a motorbike and some tree branches that have been thrown into the road. A tow truck hauls a dirty red skip past me, it blocks the view between the 2CV and me.

The car will be fine, I think and head off.

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A plain skirt

I am wearing a white ankle length skirt, full bodied, made of lace. People look at me funny, but I am defiant, I like my look.

I stand at a shop window, look at the house prices. I could become a realtor. I go in to a bar, or maybe it’s an office. The looks are hostile, but I am still defiant, I like my skirt.

A man, black suit, white tie, looks down on me, physically down, puts his pointy black shoe on the tip of my nose. I can introduce you to a realtor, he says.

At a beachside café later, Barbara laughs at me. You cannot wear a white skirt in this season, she says. It’s because of the wind. And what do you have on underneath?!

I think about it, try to come up with a better answer…

Black leggings, I reply.

Image via Pixabay

Supermarket Eggs and an Ex

Supermarket with eggs in the background

At the supermarket buying eggs.

I’m walking around with a girl I used to go out with. She has long black hair, greasy or unwashed I am not sure which, but I do not recognize her and besides, she’s in her twenties; she has a new boyfriend now.

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