One evening in late July. Songs on the stereo and tiny bottles of wine. Stumbling on the sands, her hair flowing garlands in the setting cerise, hiding behind black plastic as the islands smouldered behind the piers. I saw her tinted sepia with windmills spinning in the retina glare, kissing sparklers.
*
She pointed to the Waverley steaming on the horizon, but I could not see. The night was closing over me in waterfall kisses.
*
I cannot remember how it was in those days when I was only in love with her.
The Waverley is great! We went on the final sailing from Glasgow last year and it was just as brilliant as it was when I went on it as a kid. My mum gave me a Waverley tea towel last year which I think means that she thinks I'm mature adult now :)
Posted by: brogues | June 19, 2007 at 18:03
A mature adult? what does one of those look like then? Were there ever Waverley pens? I wrote in 'Big Flame' about stealing one in Troon, and it had the Waverley sliding down the barrel of the pen, over the waves, a bit like the clothes coming off a lady (if you remember those kinds of saucy seaside memorabilia...). But i think i made the Waverely pen up.
Posted by: me | June 19, 2007 at 18:09
Not sure what a mature adult looks like but I'm pretty sure I didn't see one in the mirror this morning :)
Hey ... those Waverley pens did (do?) exist! I love that kinda tat ... I have a Waverley on a spring fridge magnet that wobbles every time I open the door ... classy! Those nudie lady pens were so thrilling when I was about 10!
Posted by: brogues | June 20, 2007 at 15:46