view from a train window



we are en route to the country to spend time with friends who have-a-house-in-the-hamptons-South(always a delicious prospect and eagerly anticipated)

We hesitated over details with the generous invitation…..

We can drive together from the City.


It’ll be no trouble.

Frowning (prettily):

the Train sounds good.



Oh. You’re going to do a whole teamgloria-trip aren’t you? That’s why you want to take the Train?


We love it when our friends Understand.

So we packed the elegantly battered brown leather weekend bag (as seen in those Rat Pack esque movies with Mr.Pitt and Mr.Clooney); camera, sunglasses, pashmina and noel coward blue-blue robe.


Gave a little pat to the Plant that Gym C brought over today as a gift (he’s in town from the Other Coast and we had a delicious coffee,  chat and a walk around the neighbo(u)rhood.)

And got a cab to Penn Station.

Initially we were a Tiny bit disappointed by the Other passengers.

But when we changed at Jamaica (long island), some other brown leather bags, a lot like ours, got on and we nestled into the slightly off season at the Pier green seats (on the top deck – quelle delicious – a Japanese style two deck Train!) and opened up our picnic snack, mineral water and improving magazines from Europe.

The owners of the other Mr.Pitt and Mr.Clooney weekend bags are similarly engaged in reading New York Magazine or mind expanding Indian spiritual literature (in translation) alternating with what looks like a Game on a backlit digital device, perhaps as a light relief to the Eastern Philosophy.

We Are looking forward to our arrival at the Other end where our hosts will meet our train; almost as if we are a Nancy Mitford type, recently returned to Norfolk with gossip from The Continent.

Quelle fabulous.

A night in the Country.

Photographs post breakfast.

And a puppy called Daisy.


to the country.

happy sunday darlings

we slept so beautifully because we went To The Country yesterday and took great gulps of that delicious air, strolled down the little main street (high street to our english friends) with white clapboard houses and picket fences (also in white – probably Wimborne White from Farrow and Ball if our eye was correctly adjusted in the bright sunshine of Connecticut and we’re not mistaken) and so many high bowery trees.

isn’t it lovely to get Met At the Station by Friends? (the J/W and J/W2 of Connecticut) – they sat waiting in a freshly-humming car with the windows open to the breeze as we approached, gift in hand (magic products – more on that later) – we had also dressed almost Too Autumn-ly – tis still a little warm but we are Ready for the long scarf around the neck in fetching cerulean shades and a long black thing from donna-karan to wrap around us while reading in the Train Carriage.

we went straight to Lunch and then took a wander around the town where a celebration (right choice of words? not sure – depends on where one was Raised as they say here) of the civil war was taking place – Quite by surprise (to us – obviously not to the Townspeople who had clearly been planning it for months, right down to the excellent snacks and cannon that shot potatoes)


there were people shouting on the village green in some re-enactment of events from far-off years gone past. and there was music. we love music. especially live music – a fiddle or two and a winsome voice. especially when we recognize it (Hard Times) from one of our favorite/favourite/choicest movies Elizabethtown – who knew it had such early provenance in the American history? It’s amazing what one learns on a day in the Country).

we digress.



of course!

and then we repaired back to the automobile and had tea chez JW1 and J/W2 – but of course it was the fine P G Tips. Some of us are English. Others are just Very Considerate of Englishness.

we sat on the deep comforting sofas with the windows all open to the cross breeze and talked quietly while enjoying the sound of a flute in the next door garden.

a lovely aspect

we said. looking at our situation all nestled between the woods with the magical musical sounds playing.

we almost forgot – just before the chaps drove us back to the Railway Station – we remembered our magic gift.

we had brought wish paper (have you even done this? we did it once in Silverlake at a late-night gathering by the night of the Full Moon and it felt Very Portentous and delicious) – you write a wish on the very thin wispy paper (for our british friends, it is the consistency of late 1960s Basildon Bond Airmail blue) and then light it and it flies up (or, rather worryingly, one of ours just dropped onto the floor and refused to even prettily flame before extinguishing itself – oh well – good to know) – J/W 2 had a Very Good one and it soared towards the trees and then down onto the gravel path capturing flames and dreams into a light lilac smoke. Lovely. Most Satisfying.

at the train station we unwrapped our egg salad sandwich from its splendid wax paper packaging and sipped a Perrier and mused on a lovely afternoon.

grand central station was still shimmering with chandeliers and people-with-parcels (it was still a Saturday, after all, time to stock up on supplies) and we were so energized by our day that we set out on foot (too mellow for the subway, not needing to be anywhere fast in a yellow taxi) and walked all the way down Lexington from 42nd to 13th at which point our feet complained mightily and we continued on, by cab.

but it had been so long since we had taken the time – a la flaneur – to drift down Lex and through the cinnamon hot air of Little India and past Temples of one religion, then another, and see the sunlight fall into twilight.

we kept taking the new grown up camera to try out different settings and found the Film Noir button on the Very Long and complicated Menu.


but isn’t it marvelous?

the bucolic to the damned in one fine day.

only in America, darlings.

or perhaps if one had taken a train far into the verdant countryside of Germany and then back to the still-decadent quarter of Berlin one might have had a similar experience.

have you?


do. tell.





train journeys; proper luggage and roses.

we are off for what know will be a delicious weekend in the country with j/w and j/w2!

it’s a mini vacation to prep us for the flight west (monday) to the Other Coast………

yes, we have roses as a gift.

and we brought our celestial blue brooks bros chap’s robe (lightweight summer version) and comfy socks for late night milky tea and gossip session in the kitchen later.

feeling terribly noel coward en route to see the Lunts!

train journeys.

It’s Monday, and I need to get ready for work, but I’d rather pack a roomy, rather gorgeous, brown leather zip-up bag and head to a foreign train station and read a novel by the window while the countryside wakes up.

“True, when the train had crossed the Alps and engaged its slow descent into a sunlit fruitful valley, I had experienced a state of sheer joy, a fulfilment of a longing that lies dormant in many of us whose birth has been into the rain.”

Sybille Bedford | Quicksands | P.194