Quiet days

Don’t  you love quiet weekends in London? If you are anything like me you anticipated the snowfall last night with a little hint of childlike excitement. Is it, perhaps, the muffled silence of the city under a blanket of snow that we enjoy? Or maybe the white, bright simplicity of the streets and pavements? But needless to say, this morning, when I woke up… Great Ormond Street was under inches of wet muddy slush. The story of our lives, I wonder?

We had a fun evening last night, with some local friends and a breezily cute fellow over from New York from the Paul Smith store; drinks and a lot of laughter around the fire; and today brunch at The Delaunay, which I have to admit I would rather recommend. It was very nice to see David Collins there and to be able to say how much we loved the room, which is particularly beautifully done. But of all the things I enjoyed watching, over delicious plates of kedgeree and eggs benedict, was a wonderful, happy, elderly couple having lunch with their extended family; the grandfather as smart as could be, in suit and blossom pink tie, and his face permanently wreathed in smiles and laughter. I wouldn’t mind being that happy person in forty years time.

Oh dear, then it was back to captions. Who knew how many ways there were to write about bedrooms, for instance? (If you are a little confused, all will be explained in due course; but basically, yes, I’m talking about my book).  I’m beginning to understand what it’s like being an Eskimo describing snow.

Well, the final piece of news I have to confirm is that the chest of drawers is settling in nicely. Sometimes it takes a few days’ absence in the Mountains to come back and know what is right. You can imagine that I was rather surprised, and in a sense happy, to see quite what a controversy that particular chest has caused. What global financial crisis? What Euro meltdown?! Thank goodness for the important things, like a Fornasetti Palladiana chest of drawers.

Here it is this morning, with some rather handsome flame orange tulips that I bought at John and Paul Dawson’s, our friendly Lambs Conduit Street florists, on Friday morning. Don’t they make you dream of spring? Well, they make me long for the Maytime borders at the Old Parsonage. For now, I hope you like the combination with Marianna Kennedy’s blue resin lamp. Available, I should add, from a rather tasteful little shop near you.



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