Simon and Arthur are in the Tate Gallery looking at a Gauguin painting.
‘And how is Alice?’ Simon asks. He enjoys teasing Arthur about his escapist tendencies.
‘She’s fine. Fine. Putting on a bit of weight.’
That’s an understatement. She is ballooning. They still have sex but Arthur finds it increasingly difficult to locate the appropriate aperture. He doesn’t complain of course but his mind wanders.
This might be a good time to mention Asian women. They were something of a rarity in England in those days. To put it politely Arthur was drawn to their exotic qualities. It may go back to seeing a famous painting by Tretchikoff in a dentist’s office that sparked his interest. He had contracted what’s known in some quarters somewhat crudely as ‘yellow fever’. (The girl in that painting is actually a mysterious blue but never mind). Whatever it was he only had to glimpse an Oriental woman from a distance to find himself transported. Being married didn’t dampen his interest. What was it about them? The mysterious eyes? The silky black hair? From whence came the aura of some arcane knowledge Westerners could ever understand?
He’d mentioned it to Simon a few times only to be told that he should stop fantasizing and face reality.
‘All women are basically the same. You shouldn’t be so romantic. Do you like them because they are small and cute? Do you think they are more submissive or something?’
‘No it’s not that. I just find them mysterious.’
‘What are you doing with the rest of the day?’
‘Nothing much. May pop into Foyles.’
‘I’m going to Indica.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A little avant-garde gallery. Some Japanese girl is having an opening. Want to come along? East meets West.’ (Gastro)
‘And how is Alice?’ Simon asks. He enjoys teasing Arthur about his escapist tendencies.
‘She’s fine. Fine. Putting on a bit of weight.’
That’s an understatement. She is ballooning. They still have sex but Arthur finds it increasingly difficult to locate the appropriate aperture. He doesn’t complain of course but his mind wanders.
This might be a good time to mention Asian women. They were something of a rarity in England in those days. To put it politely Arthur was drawn to their exotic qualities. It may go back to seeing a famous painting by Tretchikoff in a dentist’s office that sparked his interest. He had contracted what’s known in some quarters somewhat crudely as ‘yellow fever’. (The girl in that painting is actually a mysterious blue but never mind). Whatever it was he only had to glimpse an Oriental woman from a distance to find himself transported. Being married didn’t dampen his interest. What was it about them? The mysterious eyes? The silky black hair? From whence came the aura of some arcane knowledge Westerners could ever understand?
He’d mentioned it to Simon a few times only to be told that he should stop fantasizing and face reality.
‘All women are basically the same. You shouldn’t be so romantic. Do you like them because they are small and cute? Do you think they are more submissive or something?’
‘No it’s not that. I just find them mysterious.’
‘What are you doing with the rest of the day?’
‘Nothing much. May pop into Foyles.’
‘I’m going to Indica.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A little avant-garde gallery. Some Japanese girl is having an opening. Want to come along? East meets West.’ (Gastro)
Authors note: We would like to take this opportunity to bid a sad farewell to Mandy Rice-Davis a lovely girl with a dubious choice of friends.
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