La Madrague

Like Brigitte Bardot, or perhaps Elvis, said- we’re caught in a trap.

At least, I seem to be. And it’s a trap I find harder to escape with each passing day. Now that we’re free, and life is there for the taking, it appears that I prefer to stay home. As soon as the gates of life reopened, I was full of enthusiasm. Eager to visit many of my favourite haunts, I soon realised, I longed to be in my garden. Suddenly traffic feels heavy, streets busy, and beaches, well, let’s say, I watch from home.

Why be surrounded by people, when I could be poolside with my dog, and a Whispering Angel? Post, for the last few months, has been pretty nondescript. In fact, it’s been a drag. Where once, fun invitations, were my breakfast reading. I mean, who needs to watch doom and gloom on TV, when you can have, ‘see you soon’ on an invitation. However, sadly I’d become used to, little other than bills, upon bills. Then, as if a ray of glory from days past. This week, the postman arrived with envelopes, too refined, to deliver an electricity bill. All at once, it seems as if everyone wants to host a party. Everything, from stylish days sailing, to charity galas, and all in between. Marbella, and the world, is alive, and ready to party.

After months of shorts and trainers, now life requires a dress code. It requires numerous dress codes, worse luck. Too many to consider. I stare at my recently, unpacked, and arranged wardrobe, and I despair. I want to stay in my shorts and Nikes. These days if it requires more than this, I probably won’t bother. The only addition of change I do make, from time to time, being, Gucci loafers. That’s as far as I’ll go. And, that’s for lunch, ‘proper’. Things have come to a pretty pass when I close the wardrobe doors, and RSVP no to parties, that sound, glittering.

However, the new me, is in fact, the old me. Before a life of endless social whirl, I was once a very relaxed person. One, who preferred to spend time alone. One, who preferred the beach, to flashbulbs. Having been dislocated from the world, I somehow feel, I now want to remain on the periphery. I want to hold on to the slower pace version of existence, that I’ve lived for the first half of the year. I rise earlier and earlier, as summer unfolds. The birds now waking me at times, that I used to fall home.

During lockdown, I found myself doing things, very much out of my norm. I guess anything was better than sitting around all day, watching endless news reports about the dreaded virus. One task I enjoyed, was taking care of the gardens. And as life moves on, I wake very early and I’m in the garden, lost in silence. So lost, that most days our gardener arrives and asks me what I’m doing. While dancing takes place on the terrace almost every night. By midnight, I watch life unfold on Instagram, and I say, let them dance.
Let them sleep late. But, I must be up with the lark, or whatever bird it is that wakes me at 04:40.