quelle brilliant brooklyn.

so darlings we’re Quite Converted to brooklyn.

had Such a delicious day here – the morning was all taken up with a Visit with a deeply sophisticated friend (we met firstly in a cafe with a chandelier #weadoreachandelier) and then to admire their nouvelle 1930s white spare glorious pied a terre avec the manhattan skyline from the kitchen window *gasps* and had Ever such an inspiring conversation throughout…..most needed. most appreciated. most Kind.




isn’t it gorgeous?

so dreamy.

there were a few hours that were spent in Manhattan this afternoon – but we cannot divulge Those (as yet) – but there was talk of trim size and publication dates so One Might be able to guess as to Where we were.

But back to Brooklyn!

and for some delicious peace and quiet and a ticking clock in the kitchen and a cold blue sky from the window with soft light on parquet flooring near the bannisters upstairs and daffodils on the polished table and lots-and-lots-and-lots of books and yes, in a moment, a cup of tea too.

thank you B & L for looking after teamgloria.


Brooklyn is Rather Delightful.

and very good for shattered nerves after the medical experience of yesterday.

now Let us just take one last Look at That View of Manhattan again:


can’t you Just imagine waking up Very Early and slipping into a soft cotton robe (in eau de nil, perhaps – or bitter dark chocolate suede with a Contrasting Trim) then walking slowly (and elegantly) to the kitchen to brew coffee (one would need to grind the beans fresh, of course, with a view like this) and perhaps climbing out onto the fire-escape and hugging one’s knees and watching the dawn rise over the emerald city?

such an inspiring view to write in front of.

deliriously happy to have seen it.

and the hushed elegance of the apartment that bears such a Vista ahead.

reading in bed, smiling at the sunshine on trees outside the window.

sometimes, when we’re here, in Portugal, we remember being 13 (when we first came for a Visit) and how we dreamed of being GrownUp with an apartment and a job and international travel and money to buy books and afternoons in cafes, writing sophisticated screenplays and A Diary full of wicked-and-wonderful-tales and friends and lovers and a long blue-blue-dressing-gown (like Noel Coward).

we used to go into the city and hang out taking photographs of the Trams and tourists.

everything happened (well, we didn’t predict getting sick, but we wrote our way through it, with your help, so even That felt part of the Plan).

and this afternoon we’ll show you the tourists and the trams too ;)

for now – curling back down under the blue-blue-linens, a moment of reading and a last sip of the milky coffee that was so kindly brought in after a rat-a-tat Very British knock at the door…….and a cheery “Good Morning!”


It is.





buds bursting forth –

Between yesterday and today the view from the couch Changed Entirely – the buds Burst forth into a riotous verdant foamy canopy – we sat curled up, with a strong cup of (half-caf) coffee and read the contents of our Latest Parcel – Conference at Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons.


And So invigorating to read the next part of the adventures of Flora Poste, Robert Poste’s child-as-was (now a vicar’s wife with FIVE children) and yet still getting letters and popping them in her skirt (must have been a post-war-practical-skirt made from a Simplicity Pattern with pockets) to read later before taking the Coach to Sussex to sort out what has be-fallen poor Cold Comfort Farm*

*we’re only up to page 39 but apparently the Farm has been over-run with Management types determined to streamline and repress its basic Rural charm and turn it into a Conference Centre.


We have a Feeling all will not be well. And there will be a Great Deal of Confusion (and some awfully pretty yet stern expressions-under-a-taut-shiny-bob from the former Miss Poste)

On another note.

We are Off to a (short) conference this morning.

But we were So caught up in the ripping tales of Stella Gibbons (who, like us, started her career on a newspaper and wrote quietly and secretly on Other Stuff at a nearby Lyons’ Corner House – alas Lyons’ was Long Gone in London by the time we moved there but the spirit remains) that we almost wore one of the blue paste bejeweled pins/hairgrip/kirbygrip in our hair.


Not exactly Conference attire.

To hell with it.

The pin stays.

The glorious trees outside have inspired us to Throw Caution to the wind.


Plus we have to See the Surgeon later to examine our blood tests and press (OW!) on the Scar to ascertain its healing-speed.

A blue paste bejeweled pin is Probably a good companion.

We’ll slip Stella’s book into our school bag too – for later.

It’s always good to take a riveting friend to hospital for companionship in the Dreary waiting room.

leafy glade and summer breezes

good morning :)

en route to swim (alas at local pool and not in the cool waters off Portofino followed by lunch at Clooney’s with a secretive heiress and her impressive hounds in tow) and wanted to share this leafy glade detour we always take.


some most delicious social occasions ahead – a brunch AND a chez amies UWS* visit and early supper (we did one last night too – forgot how lovely some people are – we might do a little more of the embracing the more social arts within moderation, of course, or one is so terribly drained for one’s ART)

*UWS (for our british friends) is upper west side of manhattan. the locale of literary-and-black-turtleneck-wearing-writers.

Greenwich village evening.

It was a beautiful evening to walk through Greenwich village to meet friends up on fifth at 12th where I took this shot. Felt almost poetic as I watched the sunlight fade softly through the trees against mellow 19th century brick facades. Yes, I’m beyond tired. It was a long week. And today included the request “please remove your pearls so we can do the sonogram on your neck.” not my favorite piece of dialogue, it has to be said.