Welcome to the attic of my mind. Mind the stairs, click the light on and have a rummage around my thoughts on writing, the art of everything second-hand, the natural world, music . . . just about everything. Probably not much about sport.
Or not . . .
I was actually searching for a piece of 'Pathé' film about Britain being considered for joining the common market - I've seen it somewhere . . . anyway, in the meantime, to stray a little from the scary idea of the small grey island drifting off unanchored into the North Sea, here's a fabulous bit of film featuring (to my mind) rather revolting over-pumped bodies, 1960's women in pointy-framed glasses looking hungrily on and the most wonderful example of that era's broadcasting manner.
Listen out for the part at 0:29: Just imagine the embrace such muscle could accomplish - wasted on a girl interesting . . . .
In a world filled with problems, one such being, many, many people not able to afford to eat so much as a bowl of rice, I was amazed to find this part of a review on a certain Michelin star restaurant that we were vaguely thinking of taking our son to when he finishes his high school studies.
I am used to my napkin being unfolded and passed to me. This did not happen.
What! Really, the napkin was left, unfolded, not even passed to you . . .
I kept repeating this to myself on a dog walk this morning. How could anyone actually admit to thinking that, let alone write it down for everyone to see.
I suppose if you are in the habit of regularly spending 130 quid or so on a meal (per head) then perhaps the way the napkin reaches your lap is of extreme importance, not to mention the food . . .
Anyway, on further investigation I discovered that the special CHEAP lunch menu of this particular establishment is booked up weeks in advance so, sorry Ezra, it'll probably be something more like this . . .
wonderful greek salad I experienced at 'Le Bout Du Monde' near Cerbère, for the sensible price of twelve euros
Apricots! And Vide Greniers (car boot sales)
The apricot: probably the king of fruit, as one of Iris Murdoch's characters noted in The sea, the sea (incredible book).
Cooked with nothing other than a dribble of Banyuls (local version of sherry) they turn from, nice but not extraordinary fruit to absolute irresistible fruit, especially when served with cream . . .
Bowl from last Vide Grenier and a marvellous old battered spoon from a car boot in Birmingham many, many years ago.
I've just spent a couple of days with my dear friend Penny, excellent portrait photographer and owner of 'photoVoyage'.
I asked if she wouldn't mind doing a few of me before I left and of course being a generous soul she said yes.
When I take pictures of people/friends/family I never know what to say to get the best results. Penny does. She just has a way of relaxing you, so you are just there in the moment, not feeling self-conscious or agonising about the latest new wrinkle or spot.
This photo session was not a photoVoyage but even so I feel the results were a much deeper look into myself than just some ordinary pictures.
Penny is just producing a book about her work and I have been fortunate to see the earlier drafts - a fascinating and beautiful document about her life and her experiences with helping others through her unique invention that is photoVoyage.
A quote from her book:
photoVoyage is not so much a process as an epiphany - using her high class portrait photos and natural conversations, Penny coaches people to better self-awareness and real change. Penny works with individuals, corporate executives and young people - in fact anyone seeking better self-awareness, confidence and validation http://photovoyage.co.uk Some images of the many I liked - VERY unusual as I dislike pics (as with many people) of myself.
GOOD hair day, to my mind, even though my mother says 'what on earth have you done to your hair! and worse things . . . '