London comes to a loch in Scotland.
A surprisingly happy journey up to Scotland with James and Circe. They were relaxed. We were musing why E wasn’t getting married. Circe: ‘She probably can’t afford it. A decent wedding costs £100,000 these days.’ ‘That’s rubbish,’ said James. ‘No, sweetie, it’s quite true. If it’s going to be a good occasion.’
We arrived at G’s at about 6.30 pm. On the beach of a beautiful loch, in a small hamlet, west coast, Scotland. Gentle drizzle, cloudy horizons. His home was high end London trendy. He collects motorbikes and had one in the sitting room, dining room, and bedroom. Photos of his wife looking like a model ran all the way up the stairs, a mosaic of her pouting, in sunglasses, and then at the top, naked, breasts on display. A mini grand piano shone in the corner of the sitting room. No one in the house actually plays the piano. An ancient bath, almost unworkable, took up half of James and Circe's bedroom, my bedroom had stacks of coffee table books full of beautiful women. And G, my handsome, outspoken, sexy cousin. He’s rich, flamboyant and an excellent cook. Had an entertaining evening.