It’s hot on the avenue, as I drag myself towards home, suddenly seeing the Carlyle’s awning waving the way your mom did when dinner was ready. Okay, maybe not mine, but yours I’ll bet.
Should I g0 in and drop 20 bucks on a vodka over ice, a bottle of Schweppes on the side?
YES!
Who said that? .
John Barrymore, Mae West, Errol Flynn, Dorothy Parker, my dad even, all chiming in unison...life’s short baby, live it over ice.
Lonnie, who may become another Tommy in longevity, greeted me warmly as I slid onto a warm barstool. I felt like commingling rather than hiding on a banquette like Mata Hari in a rock glass.
“Where ya been?” she said, happy to see me.
“Oh, ya know, payin bills.”
“But what does that have to do with anything. We all have bills, but you love it here. I read your blog.”
GULP
That didn’t sit too well since I often feature her, and not always in the best light, like when I said she had hips that swiveled like a ride at Coney Island.
“You’re right, Bemelmans is a favorite place of mine, but I’ve been in Amish mode, meaning, I drink at home.”
“But that’s no fun. You need inspiration, and that occasional guy to pick up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Remember the fella from Wales…
Do I? But he clearly was a two-night stand, something I totally understand and have come to appreciate.
“What ab0ut him?”
He comes in at least once a month and always asks if I’ve seen you.”
Now, maybe it was the Stoli (or the price), that made me all misty eyed, because you never think someone you pick up at a bar will have any thought of you, after he leaves you back there. He was sweeter than your average I’m just passin through guy, but I’m no fool, once they say, it’s bane nayce nooin ya, that’s usually it.
“You know Lonnie, I really did like him, but he was just passing through, if you know what I mean?”
“You shouldn’t assume that. He lights up at the mention of your name.”
“You don’t say….to think he actually remembers it, well, if you see him again, send him my best, as dusty as it is. How bout that?”
“Okay, but if I were you, with slimmer hips that is, I’d fuck all that, and just leave my number…if I were you.”
SB
Yaki da! Are you moving to the Valleys anytime soon? I’ll dust off my clogs and pit helmet ready. Hint: don’t mention the steelworks or sheep-shagging. 😉
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That could be a problem alright. Do they wear heels there?
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I don’t know for sure but I’m guessing heels and cobbles don’t mix?
BTW add Churchill to the “don’t mention” list.
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But I love him, he’s a hero of mine. He wrote by ear too, so when I make one of my grammatical mistakes because it didn’t sound right to me, I think of Winston, the Teddy Roosevelt of England.
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Well, yes, and quite a talented artist too. But he definitely had a dark side. He was a terrible xenophobe and in 1910, when Welsh miners went on strike, after their wages were reduced, he sent the troops in to force them back to work. He’s not popular in the Valleys. Men of Harlech have long memories.
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We choose to look at Winnie’s light as opposed to when it may have flickered. I actually have a little book he wrote called, Painting as a Pastime. Mimi, my departed neighbor, gave it to me. It’s beautifully written not to mention, extremely old. The pages are crumbling a bit.
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Susannah, I like Lonnie’s advice. She sounds like a smart cookie, especially since she reads you!
And not all ships pass in the night, some actually dock for a while, ha ha!
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That’s true Skinny, but he still drops anchor in Wales…wail…wail…wail…
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So did you leave your number?!
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Dear Monkey…no…only because my sex-drive is on the lam and he was, let’s say…hot stuff, if you know what I mean…:)
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Ha! Yours and mine both, it seems…
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Maybe they’re at the police station eating ice cream cones.
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Always when you least expect it there’s something around the corner Susannah! ~Elle
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With an accent.
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It’s nice to know you made an impression!
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Especially in my twilight years:)
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You are not in your twilight years! You are a spring chicken!
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Bak, bak. A chicken with a little arthritis. Reminds me of the Lucy Episode when she pretended to be one, so they’d come out from under the stove. Remember that? bak, bak.
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Love these Carlyle vignettes, and this one has it all—atmosphere, sparkling language, intriguing characters, and an unspoken “to be continued” that’s irresistable. Best of all, it’s real.
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Thanks MJ. They’re fun to write. I’m so glad you like them.
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That moment when someone says they read your blog and you immediately go through that file cabinet in your head trying to remember if and what you may have written …. Bartender, make that a double!
It’s true, high school really doesn’t end. It just moves over to the Carlye and continue swapping boy stories.
Loved this post!
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Thanks Top, but high school was cheaper. I cringe to think she read that. I’m definitely going to hell.
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You can sit next to me, I’ll keep your seat cool…lol
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Ha….I’m making a note
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I think you could write a sitcom with the Carlyle stories. Sort of an upscale Cheers.
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Teddy could bartend 🙂
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He is shy but he would love flirting with you.
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Men are men, even with 4 paws and a tail.
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