What's happening

Having plenty of coffee at the Sliema front is a good thing to start the morning with. If only there weren't so many people jogging. And a bit later then that, the world suddenly seems intent on showing off their baby strollers too, checking the label. As my good friend tells me, even strollers have their own designer labels. I wouldn't know, I don't want to know, and I wonder how my friend knows. It's a he, and a he is never a mummy. The thing is while I am on my seventh coffee and probably my 14th cigarette, I do not know what I look what, I have made the effort, what with it being Sliema and what with my always impeccably dressed friend. But I have a feeling that I am not oozing beauty right now. Oh well the sight of my Cavalli sunglasses are beautiful, that much I know. But it's only that much I know. I feel like a woman in disguise. Only, I'm not and that makes all the difference. True I am not a morning person, but some things are done in natural lighting, and that includes a coffee drinking marathon in one of the chic chic chic places of Sliema while watching plenty of people stuck in traffic jams on their way to work. It's like giving them the finger silently. It's like a la la la here we are in relax mode while all you others have got to go to the office. The office, what a horrible word, I'd never survive in one of those. And no I've never been and I know I wouldn't survive, it's instinct. Although perhaps an office fling would be nice to put on my terrible-enough love CV. I mean it would stand out, because all the others take place elsewhere. And out of nowhere comes the private eye. I call her (yes it's a female eye) THE private eye because there is nobody on this planet in her right mind who does a private investigator's job for free, just for the satisfaction of telling on me. What a woman, she makes you hate her instantly, what with that passe` lipstick on her horrible teeth. And oh the breath, you'd think she was blowing pigs the night before. And my friend, dear dear sweetheart, thinks she might have! And that makes me smile, for the first time this morning. THE private eye doing swine, oh God that's why she's immune to the flu. So that's why she tries to give out vibes of being proper, because she's been in the mud all night? Hilarious. So I brace myself, embrace my friend who gladly gives out his hand anyway, but all the more so just because THE private eye will see that. Ok private eye, you've seen us, now go away. The whole world can see us, we don't care. Thinking of that, a lot of people take a good look at us. At first I thought it was because I was ugly, there's no way my friend is ugly. But the more I covered myself the more it happened. And sitting here almost completely hidden in an Audrey Hepburn hair wrap, people still look. I think we're a good looking couple, just very diverse in occupation but not as in sensitivity. Take our cigarette cases, mine is a cute Betty Boop (yes the child is still inside), his is a sleek gold one with engraved initials which would make you think he could be the Prime Minister. And we talk, incessantly, we talk about boys, about girls, about everything excluding baby strollers. And we've been here for four hours and coffee is going to turn to lunch. I am ignoring my cell phone which is on silent. I am ignoring the urgent texts summoning me to lunch. For today, I've lost my hearing, I'm suddenly very short-sighted. I'm staying put. Here. With my friend. Oh and writer's block is over too.