Summer to Winter

Anita Darling - Summer to Winter

Published: 05/10/2009 by Anita Darling

Well it's finally starting to cool down, though thankfully things stayed rather "scorchio"-hot for Lolita's big birthday bash I spent a week off the day job at The Bank planning.

I was, unusually for me, as genetically programmed as I am to loathe the heat, delighted Summer decided to stick around one more weekend otherwise my plans for a champagne reception on the roof terrace, then dinner and all-night dancing under the stars would have been completely dashed, as all of us residents in VLC know full well that there is no Autumn here, only a week or two of sporadic torrential rain showers that mark the transition from Summer into Winter.

The party was a rip-roaring success, we managed to keep it a secret (just - many careless slips of the tongue caused one or two friends severe kicks in the shins under dinner tables) that not only was Lolita's BFF from the UK hopping over but also two of her lovely aunts and her hunky cousin, who proved to be a total hit with all the ladies present. Despite the fact that our lift to dinner got a flat battery and we were an hour late to dinner, deemed too late to be fashionable by all 40 attendees, judging by the fit-for-a-Colgate-ad ear-to-ear grin on L.'s face in all of the photos, I would say she had a terrific time.

In other, totally unrelated news, Lolita and I's new flatmates have finally arrived on the scene! Our two adorable kittens, named Alfie and Annie Rose after the Shirley Hughes books we both thoroughly enjoyed and fondly remember reading and re-reading hundreds of times as children. Think Alfie has cat ADD, he is scrambling up and down my trouser leg at this very moment, and Annie Rose we just want to scoop up and squeeze at every minute of the day, Alfie's quieter, teensy tiny little sister is a curious little angel sitting on my desk and watching placidly as I type away. They inexplicably smell divinely of chocolate yoghourt, too. Yum. And here I am rambling on about my cats, which I imagine is step one towards my girlfriends' prediction for my desperate future - I am going to become the Old Cat Lady, an eccentric old spinster surrounded by cats, living on my own in a cat-themed decorated bed-sit (think cat trinkets, cat pictures, shrines to my other dead cats) and dressed entirely in purple from head to toe. Beret and strings of lilac beads included.

I sincerely hope things do not get to that stage, and I am doing all in my power to prevent it happening, though I am beginning to feel like my fate as a singleton has been sealed. I recently broke ties with a long-term on-off dangerous, lothario type fling man. It was time to put an end to time wasting and have a little fun and games. I believe I might have a blind date to go on in the next few weeks too, Mr. M thinks he has found my ideal man at his work in the form of a tall, thin, skinny jean clad, shaven headed Adonis. (Well, I made up the Adonis bit, but one must always be positiva, innit?) He sounds just my type anyway, and can hopefully turn me away from the colour purple and my furry, chocolatey companions, leading me off into a golden sunset. If only for a weekend.

Unfortunately, though, I don't actually have any time to think about my love life right now. Helping the Gooru out with research for the book deal of the century has proven more strenuous than we expected and he is waaay off deadline, needing my every spare minute and anyone else's who is free to help! His sympathetic editor, however, has saved us from nervous breakdowns and let us breathe a sigh of relief with a few extra days legroom. I have also been struck down by the flu - as is tradition this time of year for me - and so has Lolita; sometimes living and working together does have its down side. According to my friend SC, who has returned to London after a fabulous summer over here, (boo hoo miss him already) it is from too much partying all season - though personally I think its from the stress of planning Lolita's birthday. All the secrets, the private phone calls, the running around like a lunatic have finally taken their toll.

Any hoos, arriving home the other day with Lolita, we came across a scene reminiscent of a tacky 1980s movie set in the Bronx or some other 'hood - the electricity had gone in our entire area and all our neighbours right down the length of the street were leaning over their balconies, sitting on the doorsteps, handing out candles and chatting loudly over each other as only the Spanish do. It was announced, or rather belted out from balcony to balcony and window to window, that we would probably not get the lights back on for another four hours. Somebody had phoned the Electricity Co. only to be informed that there were no problems in our area, while one of their very own technicians was simultaneously desperately trying to fix the Transformer. A little communication between ranks here, please, people! At last, there was light, welcomed by cheers al the way down the road, although we were told to expect problems for at least another four days until they could arrange for a new transformer to be fitted. What a disaster.

To add insult to injury, our (electric, of course) boiler then broke down - its been sporadic, candlelit, cold showers all weekend as we were plunged in and out of darkness. And its so hard to snuggle down and watch a movie, all one fancies doing with the flu, when there's no electricity! The only plus point is that Lolita is ill too to keep me company, though of course, if she wasn't around I would always have Alfie, Annie Rose and my cosy purple beret.