intermezzo

Afternoon in Dublin. As warm as it gets. Didn't feel up to an Italian lesson with villainy Angela.
Ah, she's lovely I tells ee.
Just don't turn your back on her.
Contented myself with the grand tour. Bookshops and cafes. Towards evening found myself in the mystical cultural heart of the city. By which I mean the Starbucks cafe on Dame Street. There I sat watching the world go by. Rang Bianca. Told her that she had the most sensual voice I had ever heard.
She said: "My voice thanks you."
I said: "If only I could marry just your voice."
For some reason she was not amused.
Later still as I drove towards home, the sky did its impression of a renaissance painting, and my soul filled with the oddest sense of peace.