Oh what a weekend.
I ruined a perfectly pretty pedicure by wearing closed shoes and dancing up a storm. I think at one point I may have stepped on a dog and caused a dog fight. The night was gentle and starry at first, the martinis flowed, the food arrived, the music got higher and things became rather interesting. There were silent dialogues flowing above our heads and beneath the table all evening long; there was verbal sparring easily confused with foreplay, there were tears, recriminations, flirting and dirty dancing. Oh what a night.
The next day beckoned and with it a BBQ. Characters were tossed and delivered into a beautiful garden overlooking the city. If you tilted your body to the left next to one of their trees you could even see the lake. I met new comers to Kampala, people who were leaving, old timers who had seen it all; I met travellers, actors, the beautiful and the dammed. Food was divine, so was the wine and without a glance at a watch a midday lunch ended at 10pm. There was gentle chat, laughter and garden games. Then stolen cigarettes and cocktails as it grew dark; it was a very happy day.
Sunday and our stamina looked weak. We were operating on less hours of sleep than we needed and through our veins flowed more wine than blood, but we did it again. Another BBQ, this one more tame but a social activity never-the- less that was celebrating the achievements of one friend. It was a totally different crowd, no scary unspoken drama, just a lovely dinner.
Coming back to school feels like a rest.
Next weekend? Surprise birthday party for one 13 year old.