The Scarlatti project finished in Grenoble yesterday and I found myself almost ecstatic playing the arias for the last time. The colleague who has ruined this project for all of us stood alone afterwards at the 'pot' clutching her champagne glass as everyone hugged in celebration. I, like the rest of the company, could not bring myself to thank her, but her cage of solitude is still tugging at me.
During the three days away from home the vine shoots have shot out of their gnarled parent and the skirt of the Mont Ventoux is bright emerald. The air is drinkable and sweet with new wheat and flowering grasses and tommorrow a new chapter begins with the bio-dynamic team arriving to build Julian's studio and gallery.
Julian, meanwhile, wants (and deserves) a trophy. The trophy of his choice is called a Spider. It is red with an open top and it goes very fast. It's a classic. What would it say, this toy, to our fellow villagers? Would it simply say we are freewheeling? And if so why not?
I am supposed to be saying "Of course you should have a sports car darling. Have two!!!". I am finding it difficult though. I am saying it then taking it back. For sensible old me it's too soon, too rash....there's the kitchen and the terrace and my room still to do. And there is the gold tooth he may need and the septic tank will will probably have to replace.....
I, apparently, am no fun.