I am pretty sure my friend has never been a president but he happens to live in a place called The White House. Not that any of us could see any white as it was more murky grey with the odd splash of colour about the windows.

Very nice mind you for a gathering of a vague alumni from a bygone time.

I suppose that we were his men and his wo men for a couple of days. 

We trooped down the

three hundred meters to

the Chichester harbour

coast, where we boated

and swam, in between the indifferent weather of summer 2021

and in the back garden

the evening sun over

the cornfield shone

in the tall trees

where the birds croaked.

so different to Andalusia or Provence

but so nice to see England at it fullest.

And the washing hung on the line dripping onto the vegetables for added fragrance at the supper table. 

I don’t think the table or the room was oval but after fine wine and sumptuous feeding, it looked skewed …. and anyone could have been president; though we all know our host was far too young to run. So he  has time to paint the place white, alter a few windows and thump the table in a way that we know he is surely accustomed. We loved it Jimbo. Thank you.