...in a puddle.
On the eve of the American election, a Tunbridge Wells travel agent, which specialises in the USA, in aid of a sales promotion venture, holds a mock election. Two of its employees, wearing masks of the rival candidates, parade up and down the street called Mount Pleasant. A local tv station reporter and camera man arrives. People gather. Despite its reputation as the heart of Conservative Britain, Tunbridge Wells comes out overwhelmingly in favour of the democrat who is eventually to win the real election.
Yesterday when the results are known I have a long standing lunch engagement with Barrett Bonden, technology blogger and Proustian, at a favourite Indian restaurant. To celebrate the Obama victory we share a bottle of Champagne, which augments the usual tipple, Kingfisher beer. The owner of the restaurant says that he stayed up until 2.30 pm that morning until he was sure of the outcome. America has suddenly become a better place; and the world too, you might say. The lateness of this blog which should have been posted yesterday, is in part at least, due to the the delayed effects of Champagne and Kingfisher.
I think I would have liked to join you!
I think you would have been most
welcome. We looked out of the window at a fire escape, the distant prospect of the Thames and facade of Somerset House and imagined that you would feel the need to photograph aspects of it, or describe its mysterious intertwinings. Marga-Leena, too, we thought would find subjects for photographs all about, inside the restaurant (a delightfully neglected place with peeling melamine tables, revealing various strata beneath the worn surfaces) and outside it, where the damp day descended on the generally unviewed backs of buildings, their yards and staircases and other excrescences.
Oh, indeed, lots of photo ops by the sounds of it, plus the thrill of meeting the two of you, in ye olde England! One day perchance...
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