darlings

in between writing articles and chasing up consultancy tasks, we cooked and listened to Mr. Robert Elms on the wireless, popped out to meet friends at lunchtime and then decided we’d Done Enough.

and settled down on the sofa, with the pashmina over our shoulders and another throw near the feet, for comfort, and read and read and read Anne Scott-James, Most Happily.

may we share?

another rosy dawn. 

which gave a pinkish glow to soft cotton sheets. 

and a sunrise kiss to the book (and the divine dorian)

the dawn reflected in a photograph we took of our friend Anna (where would she be now?) from the Theatrical Performance (circa 1989) at London University of a Torrid Tale

and now to Anne!

wonder if Anne’s Morris Cowley was Racer Green too. 

and then there was the cinema (note longing italics).

and love letters much an-ti-ci-pated….

ah. the Americans who invade the British offices.

we can only imagine. 

now Ms. Lesley Blanch sounds TREMENDOUS, don’t you agree?

this made us a tiny bit homesick.

not that we grew up in the 1940s Or wore print dresses (perhaps once) and certainly cannot recall a village (there wasn’t one for miles) or Communal berry picking and jam-making.

but it’s the Sort of shot that makes one Linger in the lost England where people did such things. non?

favo(u)rite line here – and yours too?

Visitors were frequent, mostly poets.

just like at teamgloria towers then ;-)

so we ARE old enough to have worked (adjacent to) on Fleet Street (actually Old Street, when The Independent offices were at 40 City Road (and we stayed with the paper through its move to the Docklands – a strange place) and, on one memorable occasion (which has been sadly lost to the mists of Time) we had to Phone Our Copy In to the copy-takers from, we *think*, the Queen Elizabeth Hall.

of course this was (long) before cellular telephones so we nestled into a telephone booth and a lovely lady took down our bon mots on the other end for the paper the Next Day *shivers*

back to Anne – can you imagine finding a Cable Office to send word to Our Man in Havana that one is arriving on the Clipper a tuesday from hence?

glorious. 

now this is Anne (on the right), unidentified lady extreme left and the blonde with the nice slim watch strap and pill box hat is none other than Miss Audrey Withers.

can you see this Transmission in your Territory (if not ask mr. you tube for “audrey withers vogue” and hopefully you’ll get a version of the British Pathe newsreel too!

oh look! Anne wrote a book about Sissinghurst!

so we *thought* she would enjoy a Spot in our bookcase next to Vita and above Nancy whom she also interviewed and not far along the shelf from Isherwood who, we are sure, enjoys the serenity of nestling next to Mr. William James (and everyone loves Plum Wodehouse) we still felt a little crazy today and then, while typing not long ago, took a look up and saw the full moon.

oh.

right.

that’ll do it.

we are Very in touch with the pull of the moon, darlings.

as one might expect.