Earlier in the day I had been talking to friends who live in a second-floor flat in Twickenham. They have no garden but the house backs on to Bushy Park with its pond, river and café so this is their garden.
For people living in flats in our neighbourhood, The Green is their garden, a garden with benches, trees and shade, safely fenced for children. An ideal place for a picnic. We do have a garden but our plan was to take a picnic to the Green. I have always liked the definition of a pub as a place where you can be alone in company. And this was what Janet and I sought as we set out with cushions, picnic food, champagne and wine.
Flick Rea, crossing the Green, joined us for a glass, entertained us with the tale of her early days as a drama student and promised to join me in a poetry reading in the library.
Our picnic had no drums and no music but we did have a wasp invasion – no picnic would be complete without one. As the children played and young men exercised and the sunbathers sunbathed, we were happy, alone in company.
- Ted Booth