You know the feeling when you are talking to someone and have that exciting buzz in your stomach thinking, I wish this person would write a book about his life and I could take the stories with me and read them whenever I want to. I love listening to people`s stories, what happened to them, what decisions they made and why, where they ended up after partied through nights in the morning, after going through tough times and during those rare moments when they finally felt it is possible to capture the essence of true happiness.
We had smoked salmon with cress and beetroot salad as a starter, cooked gammon mash potatoes with cabbage and Brussels sprout and fresh apricot fool. It was more than delicious, perfectly seasoned and cooked on the right temperature for the right length of time and was served with love. During tea and coffee we talked about our passion for writing, the unpublished stories and eras that would never be repeated not in a million years. The pop culture of music in the 1960`s and 70`s, where you could just find yourself drinking backstage at the Marquee Club with the musicians, even though you were a no one.
Late night chat about dating and stories which became very funny with time, but carried enormous pain in the past. Lively conversations covered by boredom and bored interest under hidden fears. It is all part of the package and the unfair risk of getting hurt. We trust less and expect more boxes to be ticked than ever before. Is it our age or just the changing face of social practice?
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