Where did that week go?
Hard to say, really! It’s been the kind of week when it feels as though there’s not been anything special going on and yet, actually, we’ve been enjoying ourselves quite a bit. Clearly, we’ve been enjoying ourselves quietly.
No, that’s not my studio but the window of Anthropologie in Regent Street. There’s always interesting things to see in there and their visual merchandising is first class. Sorry about the reflection, but I just had to get a picture of what was described as Yves St Laurent’s studio, not least because I just heard there will be an exhibition of his work which will be going on my “want to see” list for later in the year.
We always enjoy the colourful tableware in there too, and my Hero spotted some really cheerful mugs which he rather liked the look of. Fortunately, the handle which fell off one of them before we even got it home was easily superglued back on at the same time as I repaired the poppy.
So, shopping, lunch with friends, a bit of DIY back home…what else?
Oh yes, a wedding! Well, not the actual vows and signing of the papers, because that was done in Guatemala a couple of weeks ago, but the fun part; the celebration with friends and family. It was a really super occasion, with just the right degree of Guatemalan content, including a Mayan temple for a wedding cake.
Thankfully, it waited until Monday to snow. It was here and gone in no time at all but for a short time everything in the garden glistened in the sunshine. Since then, we’ve had sunshine, frost, showers, everything.
Everything except storms that is. For that, we had to go to the cinema. We were a bit slow in picking up the Royal Opera House’s live transmission of The Flying Dutchman and by the time we went to book, our usual Cheltenham venue was full. We decided we’d go to Gloucester instead, which turned out to be a great choice!
It was a super performance, even if the whole affair did lack some of the pizazz which accompany the “Live from the Met” operas. Critics reckoned that the ghostly crew weren’t quite spooky enough, that perhaps Senta’s last moments weren’t as dramatic as they might have been and perhaps she should have leapt into the sea or at least, done more than simply fall to the floor.
Me? I simply niggled that the women who were singing about spinning were sewing! Artistic licence, perhaps, but nevertheless…
