castex

A weekend in Aberdeen, Bonnie Scotland's not-so-bonnie Granite city! A steaming pit of filthy, oily lucre thrown into craggy relief by a hardy and good-natured indigenous population with mellifluous accents; not forgetting some quite charming bars and restaurants, Darling.
A weekend of love, of longing consummated. She was there working as a Geologist for Mobil. He was there because she was, but only for two stolen, swollen, strolling rainy days.
Late on Friday night they came together. Finally. The thrill of a long, tired yet totally wired drive north on some of the island's finest A-roads had no chance to dissapate as its impetus, the petrol that had powered him towards the dark horizon, rushed down the steep wooden stairs at the sound of the buzzer.
Early on Saturday afternoon they rose, bought sausages and ate them with Daddies sauce and beans. There followed a heated game of Scrabble with cups of tea and football on the radio. A game of chess here, a read of the paper there; whatever, together. In Aberdeen.
Her flat overlooked a fish shop where the scallops were the freshest one could find. Next door to that was an expensive clothes shop called something typically prosaic such as 'Fancy Lady' or some similar whimsy. I forget.
She was perfect. Once bright ginger hair - he remembered that from when first they knew each other, 10 years before - now darkened into the most beautiful of shiny russets. Petite yet headily full-bodied, she was an absolute knockout. A stunner, a vision that had persisted throughout those long years in-between. This was it, he knew. She was it. This was she.
Next time they'd ski. Glenshee, The Lecht. He'd wait. He'd pose. He'd warm her fingers on the lift.
This time they'd venture out into the drenching wind to eat Thai. She loved it; loved to gaze, to engage over wine and smiles. He loved all those things, but her most of all, and her reaction to such expensive simplicity was the most he felt he could ever ask for, late that afternoon.