Hello Sweethearts, is it just me or does it feel like many moons ago that the Carousel came to town?
After two weeks of miserable sickness for poor Finley, I have, with my heart a little in my mouth and a list full of “what to do’s” for the teacher, delivered him back to school and spent a rather darling morning gathering my thoughts, hanging out a silly amount of laundry and conjuring up this scrumptious little list of all that has inspired me while I have been doing my duty as a slightly grouchy Nurse Mummy, pinned to the sofa with a rather large six year old attached to my chest…
* First of all I must confess to going on something of an Elizabeth Taylor bender
which I think you will agree is no bad thing when we are talking about a woman who can write something as quietly harrowing as “A Game of Hide and Seek”
, a book that will have every woman with even the merest hint of fire in her belly biting back the kind of tears she has long refused to let rise. Though I have read it before, this time around it seemed to cut that much deeper: consider for example this passage…
“When she married Charles, she had seemed to wed also a social order. A convert to it, and to provincial life, and keeping house, she had pursued it frantically and as if she feared censure. No-one had entertained more methodically, or better bolstered up social interplay. She had been indefatigable in writing letters of condolence, telegrams of congratulations; remembered birthdays and anniversaries; remembered bread-and butter letters and telephone messages after parties. She had tried to do everything right for her daughter; had never missed a speech-day or an end of term concert; had talked to form-mistresses and shown interest, as they themselves put it.
But now she flouted what she had hepled to create- an illusion of society, an oiling of wheels which went round but not forwards, conventions which could only exist so long as emotion was in abeyance”
And this one…
” When she and the other women discussed recipes, children’s ailments, clothes, she entered in, and offered up with forced enthusiasm. “It is all my world!” she seemed to declare. “To make a really spongy, sponge cake, my whole ambition!” When she reached home, she would despise herself, and idly wondered if any of the others were playing the same game.”
Any? Or all of them? All of us?
It is I think the line “as long as emotion was in abeyance” that is most painful for me. I see it all the time. The lies women tell themselves. The lies they live with utter dedication to their own containment. The rituals they use as walls between their lives and their authentic selves. I see it and I contribute to it because I know no other way to confront it without bringing my world and other peoples tumbling down. Elizabeth Taylor saw it and she described it and there is a bit of me that needs to know whether she had more guts than I do, so though I am currently drowning in her writing, and awaiting a few modern film versions of her work (Angel and Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont are on my Lovefilm list), I have placed The Other Elizabeth Taylor
on order and await it with much anticipation…
P.S: The Atlantic article referenced in one of the rather caustic Amazon reviews is here
* Next up, after that rather hysterical start:
a video that had me hysterical in quite the opposite sense of the word. Discovered at NieNie
, Solid Potato Salad had me
in happy fits and Finn falling off the sofa with tears rolling down his face, rather setting his recovery back with the effort required to practise getting his legs over his head while warbling about salad…
* Then on to quite a severe bout of creative jealousy, because I never saw a lovelier thing than this Pam Garrison piece of scrumptious, bohemian, vintage and homely stitching for the sheer sake of creating something for us all to drool over.
Hopping all over the internet for details of the film version of Cheerful Weather for the Wedding, David Tenant was supposed to be filming in 2007 and coming up with exactly nothing. Wondering what happened to it.
Drinking Ginger Cordial to ease a poorly tummy. Nursing ambition until the time is right.
* Dwelling on my favourite words: Debauchery. Shine.Verdigris. Comely. Home. Pernicious. Epiphany. Dalliance. Scrumptious. Fleeting. Mummy. Peccadillo. Violet. Divinity. Euphoria. Camellia. Madeleine. Ingénue. Erotica. Cosy. Lassitude. Aubergine. Friend. Chartreuse. Library. Serendipity. Thou. Pyjamas. Pomegranate. Ethereal. Sensual. Bruise…
* Playing The Girl by City and Colour over and over. “You sacrificed so much of your life in order for this to work. While I’m off chasing my dreams. Sailing around the world…”
* Feeling outraged on Martha Stewart’s
behalf after one of her former close friends sold out and wrote a book about their former friendship, The Best of Friends: Martha and Me
But sadly, not outraged enough not to have ordered it because I am a salacious gossip and an utter hypocrite. I apologise. Bitchy curiousity becomes me. Also on the subject of Martha, hearing rumours that the Hallmark channel will be running re-runs of much of Martha’s TV back catalogue from March 29th, which may be good news for British Sky TV viewers who might just be able to watch her for the first time this side of the Atlantic…
* And finally amusing myself with Colorstrology from Pantone
, and discovering that my birth date means that my colorstrology colour is Basil, which makes me innovative, expressive and an originator and goes on describe us Basil people as…
“..Likeable and fun to have around. You seem to know what position to play when inter-acting with other people. You have a quiet self-assurance that lends you ease in communicating or dealing with others. It is important for you to be active and learning new things. Your personal colour embodies life and vitality. Wearing and meditating, or surrounding yourself with the colour Basil keeps you young and thriving. It can also be a strong aid when dealing with finance and health concerns.”
To which I say “hmmmmm”.
What’s your Colorstrology colour, pray tell?