Being a grown up

“All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.”

Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie

Birthday cakeBrain: There’s that animal I’m very familiar with, with mane and big teeth!
Brain’s word identification software: Lion!
Mouth: Goat.

True story. Continue reading Being a grown up

Of birthdays, bouquets, blue skies and overtime

“And thus ever by day and night, under the sun and under the stars, climbing the dusty hills and toiling along the weary plains, journeying by land and journeying by sea, coming and going so strangely, to meet and to act and react on one another, move all we restless travellers through the pilgrimage of life.”

Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens

This is a story of blue nail polish. Not blue meaning sad. Not blue to keep with my blog title. Blue nail polish.

It was a sunny day in Pennington on the Natal South Coast. I was visiting my grandparents who live there. Later in the day we were planning to meet my aunt for a coffee and a slice of cheesecake. My aunt has appointed herself National Cheesecake Taster. Continue reading Of birthdays, bouquets, blue skies and overtime

An evening with the 60’s glamour set, now octogenarians and not a bit less interesting!

“I got completely lost — it’s real difficult, isn’t it? Everything’s got the word ‘Kensington’ in it — Kensington Park Road, Kensington Gardens, Kensington bloody Park Gardens…”

Notting Hill script by Richard Curtis

On Saturday Hubby and I went to an 80th birthday party – the third of a series of parties for our most glamorous friend MMM. MMM is a woman of many stories: “That reminds me about the time I met Nixon – before he became president, mind… Then, he was more interested in mini-skirted girls and Champagne than in politics. But he never took advantage!” she explained in her Southern drawl.

We’ve heard the Nixon story a number of times and we never get tired of it. But it’s really the storyteller who captivates me – the accent, the intonation, the minuscule details remembered and the absolute delight on the face of the storyteller. Continue reading An evening with the 60’s glamour set, now octogenarians and not a bit less interesting!