A warm, dry breeze sifts through the crowd and over the pools magnetic cool depths. A rakish, long legged lady in a sharply styled cream bikini adorned with a chunky black Chanel buckle elevates herself up elegantly from a teak lounger as her long, sleek brown hair is flicked by the snap of desert air, to reveal a long, ornate, glittering piece of fine ear jewelery. She whispers into the ear of her beau, an effortlessly handsome man who stands confidently with his back to the pool as he discusses his latest high-profile wristwatch modelling campaign. The legs begin to do the walk past the group in a pair of poolside 'spikes' ( "Oh my God SHOES! " ) with a life of their own and the sleek party guest is drifted towards the open expanse of the villa's sliding doors.
Few heads have turned because this is no exceptional sight. Don and Mark's back yard has been transformed into an LA film set. This is an LA pool party after all. Clusters of people in the latest couture bathing costumes and surely the largest 'Jackie O' sunglasses I have ever seen (what is the point in wearing makeup if you have a pair of inter-locked dinner plates for sunglasses?!) are forming and merging like the wax in a lava lamp, an olive bejewelled Martini or a tall glass fanned with pineapple and strawberries in their hands. The hosts are busy networking through the crowd... Mark poses in front of the mountain-scape with a stylish 'dinner-plate' lady on each arm for the linen-wearing photographer, while Donald reclines 'pimp-like' in his new jacuzzi with a huddle of four guys and two gals hanging onto his every word. This guy is in demand.
And here I am, looking over the crowd from the terrace above. My best LA pout is adorned under my Prada eyewear. A white canopy flaps in the breeze above me holding the rays of the beating sun back from my neck. Amongst the party people I can hear the odd vocal sneaking energetically out of the pool scene below.... this is too good to be true...
"Woo!"
"Yeah!" "Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiight!"
"Get down!"
Marvin Gaye seems to be working it rather nicely with "Got To Give It up" . A smattering of guests is strutting carefully to the music, showing off their best poolside moves, not a smile to be seen for fear of giving the impression that they are having a good time. I will sort that one out... within moments I have flipped through my smooth-groove, terrace-tearing collection and I spin the next tune into the crowd. How can they resist James Brown...
"Fellahs I'm ready to get up and do mah thang....I wanna get into it man!"
"Woo!" "Yeah!"
"One... two... three... four.......
GET UP, ah... get on up...
GET UP, ah... get on up...
STAY ON THE SCENE... get on up...
LIKE A SEX-A-MACHINE...."
"OWW!!"
Reality check! Welcome to my vivid imagination... and thank you for humouring me by reading this. Let it be known that I have taken much pleasure in stretching the truth about our Sunday around the pool. Perhaps I owe you an explanation for how I dreamt up this sad diary entry?
It is really quite simple.... having lost and found my iPod and joined my hosts for a relaxing day around the pool I felt the urge to play my own music. After the late night we had had we decided that a cocktail was on the cards from the start and so we had a great day. I had such a thrill flipping through my music list and picking out track after track... (of course Mark and Don may not agree!)... the sun beating down out of the clear sky, and that spectacular view.
Three of the guys we had been chatting to at The Abbey the night before turned up... but not until about 6pm. Of course I had an early meeting first thing in the morning (sure Edward) so this was a great pain for me! The drink flowed, the alternating coloured pool lights flicked on, the jacuzzi bubbled and the garden flares were lit. Into the jacuzzi we jumped to make the most of the sunset... and oh... was that wacky-backy being passed around?! So now of course the conversation took a turn for the worst inevitably, the one they call Christopher took the limelight and chattered away with his camp comedy... and we laughed.
This sure beats a Sunday night trudging through a drizzly summer evening in London to have a final weekend pint... I only wish my great friends there could be here with me to enjoy the moment.
Few heads have turned because this is no exceptional sight. Don and Mark's back yard has been transformed into an LA film set. This is an LA pool party after all. Clusters of people in the latest couture bathing costumes and surely the largest 'Jackie O' sunglasses I have ever seen (what is the point in wearing makeup if you have a pair of inter-locked dinner plates for sunglasses?!) are forming and merging like the wax in a lava lamp, an olive bejewelled Martini or a tall glass fanned with pineapple and strawberries in their hands. The hosts are busy networking through the crowd... Mark poses in front of the mountain-scape with a stylish 'dinner-plate' lady on each arm for the linen-wearing photographer, while Donald reclines 'pimp-like' in his new jacuzzi with a huddle of four guys and two gals hanging onto his every word. This guy is in demand.
And here I am, looking over the crowd from the terrace above. My best LA pout is adorned under my Prada eyewear. A white canopy flaps in the breeze above me holding the rays of the beating sun back from my neck. Amongst the party people I can hear the odd vocal sneaking energetically out of the pool scene below.... this is too good to be true...
"Woo!"
"Yeah!" "Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiight!"
"Get down!"
Marvin Gaye seems to be working it rather nicely with "Got To Give It up" . A smattering of guests is strutting carefully to the music, showing off their best poolside moves, not a smile to be seen for fear of giving the impression that they are having a good time. I will sort that one out... within moments I have flipped through my smooth-groove, terrace-tearing collection and I spin the next tune into the crowd. How can they resist James Brown...
"Fellahs I'm ready to get up and do mah thang....I wanna get into it man!"
"Woo!" "Yeah!"
"One... two... three... four.......
GET UP, ah... get on up...
GET UP, ah... get on up...
STAY ON THE SCENE... get on up...
LIKE A SEX-A-MACHINE...."
"OWW!!"
Reality check! Welcome to my vivid imagination... and thank you for humouring me by reading this. Let it be known that I have taken much pleasure in stretching the truth about our Sunday around the pool. Perhaps I owe you an explanation for how I dreamt up this sad diary entry?
It is really quite simple.... having lost and found my iPod and joined my hosts for a relaxing day around the pool I felt the urge to play my own music. After the late night we had had we decided that a cocktail was on the cards from the start and so we had a great day. I had such a thrill flipping through my music list and picking out track after track... (of course Mark and Don may not agree!)... the sun beating down out of the clear sky, and that spectacular view.
Three of the guys we had been chatting to at The Abbey the night before turned up... but not until about 6pm. Of course I had an early meeting first thing in the morning (sure Edward) so this was a great pain for me! The drink flowed, the alternating coloured pool lights flicked on, the jacuzzi bubbled and the garden flares were lit. Into the jacuzzi we jumped to make the most of the sunset... and oh... was that wacky-backy being passed around?! So now of course the conversation took a turn for the worst inevitably, the one they call Christopher took the limelight and chattered away with his camp comedy... and we laughed.
This sure beats a Sunday night trudging through a drizzly summer evening in London to have a final weekend pint... I only wish my great friends there could be here with me to enjoy the moment.
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