masks, meat & mucky windows

Last night was a masked 40th birthday party for a couple who've been family friends for so long it's difficult to explain it all so I won't. It was held at an immense mansion straight out of Footballer's Wives, designed and decorated with about the same amount of taste. It wasn't their house.

I didn't bring my camera - bit of a shame as groovy photo op after groovy photo op presented itself. Perhaps it was for the best though, as one of the guests was flashing an incredible Leica, and my Canon would've felt somewhat gauche in such company. But forget about cameras. I used my phone to take a few shots, one of which was of a BBQ I must have. It's a spit roast BBQ. I discovered later that it didn't belong to the house, but was rented for the occasion. To own a spit roast BBQ you've got to have a lot of spit roasts. I still want one.

One of the trees that constantly batters the Belfry has now taken to depositing some sort of stuff on the skylight. Tree effluvium. Or something. I've gotten used to the noise now though. It no longer scares me at night, I no longer scream "who's there" at 3 in the morning. Instead I roll over, comforted at the trees' protection. The skylight's a mess though.


mucky window