I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time…Advertisements
Monthly Archives: May 2013
That’s the real beauty of a bank holiday weekend. Not the extra lie in, per se, but the sense of freedom it creates to allow you to wake up with the birds on the Sunday, sun streaming through the curtains. Rather than hurl yourself face first into a pillow, insistent on getting those extra couple of hours, your body finds itself welcoming the possibilities of the day…Boot sale!
Two hours foraging and I returned with my loot: a 1960s picnic hamper with the Tupperware sandwich box still wrapped in crackly cellophane; a Chinese green tea set that snuggles in a basket; beautiful craft and art books; expanding files for the stacks of paperwork that are amassing on the kitchen table again; a Le Creuset-style casserole for a fiver; exquisite pieces of jewellery intended as presents, but those bracelets are rather lovely…
The sun was shining and it was still only 9.30am. Returning with bags of bread and croissants for breakfast, I was reminded of mornings spent wandering around French markets. The pleasure of stumbling upon things you’ve never seen, smelled or heard before, and the icing on the cake? Coming home with new objects that help to tip your own surroundings just a little bit closer to the dream!