JazzFM is on in the background. I’m on my third glass of wine. Quite a nice 2007 Rioja. I am relaxed.
A boy strides up and down discussing attitudes to disease in the 19th century.
I recognise some of the tunes. It adds to the warm and comfortable feeling.
Looking around I notice the colours in the kitchen. Black contrasts with oak. Green tablecloths with the rich red of the wine. The lights are reflected in the deep black windows.
A double base plucks its resonance and the hi hat intermingles with strokes on the piano.
Household noises don’t interrupt. A football match is about to begin in another room. A debate on medical discoveries continues; single sided.
A Spanish guitar has replaced the piano. I picture myself playing it. Removing my spectacles, eyes closed, my mind wanders off to a cellar bar in Andalucia. Communication is unnecessary.
An evening meal enters the room, shakes a saucepan and greets us. The trance is broken.