I lost a bottle of gin in a bet tonight.
That’s Wallington sunset dancing to the joy of it all.
Dinner in the garden and an old cassette playing through the wide open windows. Yes we still have cassettes and the technology to play them. Even for us it’s a rare treat. It was a Wallington cassette titled, helpfully, ASSORTED. Circa something. I’d guess 1993. We were living in Hobart then.
There was music from the French film Betty Blue. I love that film and I loved the soundtrack. I’m in a small film club and declared Betty Blue as my next selection, next year.
I reminisced. ‘That small bald guy with the sunglasses, the tension, audiences actually applauding at pivot points in the film…’
‘That wasn’t Betty Blue,’ Wallington said.
You get the drift. On and on this relentless intellectual deconstruction.
‘Was. It fucking was.’
A great big sun was sinking beside the spire of the Hunter Baille church at the top of our garden over in Annandale. Life can be extraordinarily beautiful. There was a soft glow on the tops of the trees down in the valley.
‘I’ll bet you a bottle of gin,’ Wallington said. Cockily, I thought. Right you are if you think you are but she was wrong.
‘A bottle of whiskey.’
A handshake. An ipad. Good grief. I’d rather not know for a week and then forget. An isearch. An iLa Wally+. An ifucked it up.
It was Diva! Of course. Another great film.
You’ve seen one French film you’ve seen them all. Big-eyed topless women, cigarettes, relationship troubles with an unlikely older man (who looks like the Director), a white walled apartment with high ceilings and shuttered windows, traffic, accordion music, a bald man in sunglasses.
Add gin and stir.