A busy day.

The garden turning autumnal. Plenty to do and the migrant birds massing over head. Eventually I stopped. The late afternoon sun still hot in the sitting room and I slowly drank a glass of pastis and listened to Radio France .

It was a Shostakovich string quartet, that irresistible mixture of fear and beauty and for once I listened with all my heart.

The final movement ended and you could hear the needle coming to the end of the record in a delicious crackle . I sat still and waited in warm relaxation for the next piece of music, but it didn’t come. I sipped to the end of my drink, listened to the door bump in the breeze, the clock tick, the commuters driving home in the sunshine.

I imagined what was happening in the radio silence; had someone decided to kiss their lover in the store cupboard instead of changing the record? Had someone fallen asleep in the warm afternoon? Had the great idea finally struck and was it being scribbled down on the back of an envelope or noted on a phone? Had someone finally left and walked quietly down the stairs and out of the building?

The music never started again. The radio eventually took matters into its own hands and shut off. When I turned it back on there was something lively playing.

I think I preferred my unexpected moment of silence.


11 thoughts on “Afternoon.

  1. iamthesunking says:

    Our garden is also turning autumnal but nothing specific that I can pinpoint. It’s just taken on a warmer and more autumnal shade of its normal self. Louis Catorze appears to still think it’s summer, and he’s out on ICB right now as I write.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. catterel says:

    I always want a few moments of silence at the end of a beautiful, moving piece of music in order to come back down from the sublime heights – hate it at concerts when the applause starts before the last note has faded. So that radio silence may have just been due to someone slowly returning to earth …

    Liked by 1 person

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