Just woke up in my own bed. Air smelling of summer and Black’s YSL Opium. Same reflections of the pool dancing in the dusty ceiling and same sense of lonlieness, but then I turn and I see Black sleeping. Mouth open and Aloysious clutched in her arms.
We get up and find my Mexican gardener dancing around on the lawn, listening to Bowie’s Changes and singing (screaming) along. Maybe my happiness is contagious.
Anyway, now we're of to get Blacks stuff. Cause yesterday we decided that she should move in with me and throw some life in this ghost house.
I'm looking forward to meeting her mother again. She's a lady who’s dressed in these sort of diamanté jeans Victoria Beckham would love… doesn’t that say it all?
Tonite black has convinced me to accept the inivitation to some "cool" party where the DJ apparently has DJ:d for Queen Victoria (not the Beckam one, but the one of the house of Windsor). Perhaps we can hope for some Pomp and Circumstance for Aloysious?