Separate accommodation.
In the window of Brittens, the music shop in Grosvenor Road, stands a double base. It is not a new one, and its scratched and faded belly suggests that, like me, it has undergone a bit of wear and tear. Beside it, new or newish cellos, violas and violins demonstrate the extent of the violin family but my sympathies are with the old double bass.
Through the hedge, now without most of its old leaves and with none of its new ones, , I detect my neighbour walking past in the street. I cannot see his features or what he wearing, but identify him by his gait - his jaunty walk, and the way his heads bobs up and down
4 comments:
They seem to be illustrating the recessiveness of the harlequin gene in the one on the right; within a couple of generations the dominant indigeneous rock dove appearance has reestablished itself...
(I am not a geneticist and lack the specialised vocabulary to make that sound as clever as it should...)
I love stuff that has shown the scuffing up of being loved.
Even the scuffing of not being loved has a certain nobility about it, Z.
Sounds clever enough to me Lucy. I might have got as far as saying that they resembled the pic'n mix sweeties at the now defunct Woolworth stores.
Trust Tunbridge Wells to have a music shop with a name like that. Echoes of a Paul Micou (?) novel: "Brother of the more famous (in this case: Ben)".
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