Oh Rubbish!

Thanks to Diana and her hospitality, and the Seattle friends who arranged for us to meet, my trip to NYC in August 2011 was far more interesting than it might have been..

One evening at the dinner table after I had been her guest for a week and a half, I suggested to her that it might be time for the guest to be departing. “Oh Rubbish!” she declared, and I stayed on another week or two.

We used to take a cab over to the east village to a little jazz club called The University Of the Streets, founded in the late sixties, a club just for people who wanted to sing with a live jazz trio (piano, bass and drums), no refreshments, just the music…..

The bass player was the brother of Alan Alda – he howled like a wolf now and then while he was playing…..

Near the end of the evening, the hostess asked: “Does anyone else want to sing a last time?” Diana emphatically pointed to the top of my head with her index finger. This was great because I never would have volunteered myself.

We spent a week end at her country place. The drive up was hair raising; Diana was putting along at forty mph on the West side highway, with people in all three lanes honking furiously at her or or shaking their fists..

“Oh shut up!” she said.

I to drove on the return trip, but not without considerable instruction..

Eating dinner with her could be a feline experience. The cats had free rein on the dinner table and made good use of it. I had no objection – it seemed a normal part of the dinner routine. to have cats nosing around on your plate.

The cats ruled. I am glad they were with her when she died.