What is it about handbags? Women will do almost anything for a fabulous handbag, and then the day comes when nobody wants them to do those things and they have to buy their own. That day has come for me, so I saved up for mine and waited for it in the sale like a demented tigress. It is fabulous, I swear it would look a bin liner look good. I am in love with it and my new HP car, neither of which I can really afford. I have to lock the car door for fear of someone seeing it on the passenger seat. As I have been extremely ,ill cannot face cooking the vast meals required in this house so have also saved up for a weekly cook. This elegant creature turned up with a fantastic bag, which would have taken her approximately two weeks hard cooking to earn. She also had on the other arm, what is called a tote now that would have been a small fortune. I could hardly believe that we spent at least half an hour talking about the various looks the bags could create with actions.
OMG the Sainted One has decided I am the proverbial “er in doors numbers” however sweetly I speak he replies “what do you want now?” the answer is “nothing sunny Jim,” (not even a bag actually’) “just wondered what time you would like dinner?” Today I had a brief altercation with some Gardenia plants given to me by my dearest friend. “Whatever I do it is wrong you bastards,” I hissed at them… the SO appeared at once flushed with anticipation thinking this was the first salvo in a domestic, which he thrives on can do on his own and notably even if I have left the room. There was no apology forthcoming, it’s no use pretending the age difference is telling!!!!!Guess thirteen hours of TV, versus moi are no contest ! Actually two people have fallen sound asleep when I was talking to them recently. I asked one of them if I had told them the anecdote before, he replied ” Yes Often but I still enjoy it.” Have bag will travel.
Many people will tell you that it is wrong to look back, the truth of that is of course greatly dependent whether or not the memories are happy ones. If you are lucky enough to escape the attention of misguided therapists who will try to unearth unhappy experiences, which the clever old brain has sent into oblivion and charge you a lot of money to apprise you of the theory that all your self created disasters are someone else’s fault. Me I know that my life changed for the better when after carelessly losing both my parents followed by both my siblings by the age of sixteen I met the Painter Paul Maze and his beautiful wife Jessie, who was also the model for his most beloved work. They taught me how to live a beautiful life made from very little. Between them they gave me the foundation for a life well lived. In the picture here, you will see Paul speaking words of wisdom to my baby son Andy who is listening with joy. Paul and Jessie were like the grandparents my children never had and to me of course they were like chosen parents. Last night we spent a wonderful evening looking through the photos Jessie lovingly stuck in a well thumbed album.
Since our friend David Rose complied a film of Paul from archives he found, it is as if he had been reborn to us and I feel both his and Jessie’s presence and know that all will be well. In one of these archives Paul speaks of his painting life with Winston Churchill during the war and how the great man “ knew no hate and did everything from love”. That is what Paul lived by and it is so apparent in his work, a good mantra for life and the hardest to follow.
Let me explain…. Iambic pentameters are wonderful, the great actor Donald Sindon once explained them to me, delivering some of Shakespeare’s greatest soliloquys to an audience of moi. Then we have the split infinitives, me I just love those, bring them on I say to get all the phony literati’s in a lather. I use them all the time as a matter of principle. But the real genius is inventing one of those things. I have just done this because I am super intelligent, and people adore me because I have such a unique brain and they are constantly surprised be what comes out of my gorgeous mouth…. Well here it is hot mouthed from the genius herself , it is the “past pejorative” . This is of course the recollective narrative ( yes I just invented that as well) . You see recently I have encountered one or two people who tell you stories about characters who have done deeply unpleasant things, like putting their children’s pet goldfish down the loo, or stealing parking places. I must admit I do tell a lot of stories, and sometimes the listener has the nerve to tell me that I have told them this one before. But the redeeming factor is that my stuff features wonderful Goddesses. Angels, Knights in Shining Armour and Heroic Animals. and if they are about moi, which is seldom because one must not talk about oneself , they have to be self-deprecating, which in my case is easy. So you see everyone is a winner.
Well here is a real life Knight story, an awful thing happened here which was that through a series of terrible accidents a video of my mentor and family Godfather and my adopted mother which I have guarded all my life got destroyed. The mentor was an iconic man the painter Paul Maze and his wife Jessie his muse. “The Knight,” has stepped in, a film maker called David Rose he found footage of the great man greatly superior to that which was lost. I tell you the emotional wailing and weeping her has been incredible. I don’t cry because it makes me look like a bath bun but today as a friend said your eyes look like piss holes in the snow. OMG some people are just fantastic.