White flag

10 November 2009

Thai food. Man of Mediterranean appearance. Delightful.

I get up to leave and glance at the man who I've been watching out of the corner of my eye all night who is none of the above but short, bald, twinkly-eyed, smooth and, as I finally see his face, Brian Eno.

That's it.

Date over.

I give up.

I'm taking up tapestry or bee-keeping or something, going on a diet, becoming a recluse. I surrender.

Posted by Writer in Residence at 1:37 PM