weak sunlight and strong coffee.

The cinematic mastery of Netflix’s Ripley -50s Italy in black and white. So perfect it could be Hitchcock. So beautifully shot a still from any scene could be a poster. Getting excited about a cocktail evening this weekend with a dear. I’m thinking negroni siblioni and pineapple margaritas.

A little warmth creeping into the days. Sunlight until nearly 8 pm. The smell of fresh-cut grass and an abundance of seedlings to be planted outside. Rosebuds and jasmin springing back to life.

Picking up the threads of my housekeeping. Cardboard boxes to organise the loft space. sometimes too much space invites mess. clutter expanding to fill up as much space as it’s given. the plan to have only the clothes i really want to wear in the wardrobe-the rest out of site.

falling in love with the writing of Nora Ephron and Joan Didion-my new style icon. Dipping in and out of ‘Play it as it lays’ and finding pure poetry on every page. A shopping spree at H & M for long line jersey dresses, in cream and burgundy. big sunglasses, chain necklaces and freshwater pearls.

A honey-scented breeze blowing across the farmer’s field by our house. An Italian soundtrack playing on repeat while i work. A sweet boy with a stammer from my daughter’s old school who paid a call on her- just to say hi. Which broke my heart a little, A single peony in bloom outside my office window.

Travelers have taken up residence on the stay and they do every year pearl clutching residents wringing their hands on facebook and politicizing. Someone bemoaning that the local council are quick enough to start the bureaucratic process of moving these travelers on but slow to cut the grass verges that have become overgrown in this sudden warm spell.

to easy to romanticise that lifestyle with mortgage and council tax rates as they are. but still feeling there may be something in being so unteathered .

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