SERENDIPITY...

A long time ago a good friend who reads this blog said in conversation, "The interesting thing about your blog is you have to work out which parts actually happened and which parts have been creatively invented." Or words to that effect. I went "HUH? No, it's all real, nothing is invented. Everything actually happened!" I know, funny things happen to me: I randomly sit next to and make friends with Jean Paul Sartre's closest confidant on the Eurostar, there are Shetland ponies living behind my London street, I spent childhood holidays being driven about in the sea in a red convertible car. I've had the occasional freak accident, and I got to spend the better part of three years in Paris thanks to a geriatric cat with high maintenance needs. C'est la vie!

I had forgotten about that until I came here to recount the story of last night, when I realised it would sound quite strange. So here it is, exactly as it happened.

It was a beautiful evening and I wanted to do something, just sit outside somewhere with a drink. But most of my friends in London are on holiday, so I was resigned to an evening at home watching the Kardashians. I popped out to my local favourite Turkish restaurant down the street to pick up some taramasalata, kisir and home baked bread for supper. Just a few yards from my house I happened upon two guys I know who are chefs, up one of the trees that line the street, foraging for plums for a dessert they're making for 120 people this Sunday. They reminded me that the preview party for the re-opening of Frank's Campari was happening and told me that the XX and Hot Chip were going to be DJing.

I had totally forgotten about it and although I love going to Frank's in the summer, I often find it difficult to twist peoples' arms into going out for the night to the top of a car park in deepest Peckham. I'm also not very good with large crowds of people. I did vaguely absorb the words 'free drinks' and that someone I also know was working there, but said I might go along later, thinking I probably wouldn't as I carried on down my plum tree lined street. (I think they got six kilos in the end.) Then I looked at the sky and realised I would be an idiot not to go and drink Campari while watching the sun set over London.

When I walked back up the road there was no one in the tree, so I phoned my friend who lives next door, but she was gatecrashing art openings in Cork Street so couldn't come. I didn't have much time to think because if I didn't go there early it would be too crowded. I decided just to go and I would surely find people I knew there. I did find people there - about a thousand of them. I managed to entice Ephemerette into coming via Twitter (and I hadn't even mentioned that the drinks were free!) but of course we never did find each other. By sheer fluke I found my sweet plum foraging friends early on, had a few Camparis and - having regrettably left my camera at home - took a load of iPhone photos of the view. Regard:

So in the end I was pretty glad I'd decided to pop out to get that taramasalata.

{I know Instagram has its detractors, but before I had it I'd almost stopped taking photos completely. In June I took 158 pictures using it and frankly (ha) I love it. I don't know, do people mind me putting those pictures on the blog? I personally don't mind when people do, because I think any picture is better than none, but does it make a difference to you? I've been using the Canon AE-1 but that means posts with pictures from that will be delayed by the time it takes to process the film.}