“Good-bye,” said Michael to the Bird Woman. “Feed the Birds,” she replied, smiling. “Good-bye,” said Jane. “Tuppence a Bag!” said the Bird Woman and waved her hand.”
Mary Poppins by P.L. Travers
I stood in the warmth of the church after the service sipping a hot tea in a paper cup. Outside a small boy, puffer-jacketed, gloved and woolly-hatted ran back and forth on the lawn chasing pigeons. They settled. He charged. They flew up into the chilled air and swirled around him for some seconds. Then they settled again on the other side of the lawn. He squealed and charged again. They took flight. He waved his pudgy coated arms around. They swirled. It was mesmerising, this game. Continue reading Pigeons, Pantomime and Christmas vibes
“The whole of life is just like watching a film. Only it’s as though you always get in ten minutes after the big picture has started, and no-one will tell you the plot, so you have to work it out all yourself from the clues.”
Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett
I’m sitting on our terrace doing a bit of work and writing this blog on a sunny Sunday in London.
According to Hubby, this sort of weather is normal for London – that locals dub it “sunny London” (direct quote).
“We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would have us believe- some people are smarter than others, some people have more opportunity because they’re born with it, some men make more money than others, some ladies make better cakes than others- some people are born gifted beyond the normal scope of men.”
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
I had a friend at school who was obsessed with her nails. She would paint them and file them daily, obsessing over nail vitamins and moisturiser to soften the quicks. One lunch time she rushed over to me in distress. “A terrible thing has happened,” she shouted. Holding her hands up for me to see, “I broke two nails, and so I had to cut them all off!” Continue reading Lamentations of a 5 foot 1 inch non-shopper and late adopter
“We have all some experience of a feeling, that comes over us occasionally, of what we are saying and doing having been said and done before, in a remote time – of our having been surrounded, dim ages ago, by the same faces, objects, and circumstances – of our knowing perfectly what will be said next, as if we suddenly remember it!”
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
The mind is a strange and curious thing.
On Friday last, I stepped out of the office on an errand. Low-lying mist hung over the Thames. London was still. This is a rare and beautiful thing. Putney Bridge was deserted – no hooting or sirens or loud pedestrians. The frenzy and heat of July having past, a large portion of the population on leave, August is an eerie month in the city. London seemed to breathe out a long peaceful breath of relief.
Being bookish, and tending towards melancholy, this mysterious, still, slightly dark, ominous, promise-of-rain weather feeds my imagination. Continue reading Memory
“If we don’t go mad once in a while, there’s no hope.”
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce
London is ROASTING.
There is not a cloud in the sky, not a breath of wind. It’s 37 degrees on our terrace, 31 degrees in our kitchen and another week of swelter is predicted. Yes, these are the numbers at 18:30 in the evening. Yes, this is London. No we have no rain or cloud to offer at this time – out of stock.