kids today

Have you ever been so inspired that you can't sleep? That you miss a yoga class you really wanted to go to just to stay home, play music and play around with photographic images: abstractions of colour and shape and light?

That's what's happening to me today.

Yesterday, I was invited to a small, intimate, private event at the beautiful Covent Garden Hotel on Monmouth Street, hosted by American Express/West End VIP (that's Very Important Pedestrians), to spread the good word about an event: 10th & 11th December, they're closing Oxford and Regent's Street, there will be a 30 hour Carol-a-thon, starting in the day on the streets, and continuing thru the night in the House of Fraser's windows. It's going to be absolutely MAGIC this year: proper, old fashioned, Dickensian Christmas, complete with old buses, organ grinders.. I'll be there, with camera. Hope you will, too.

The event yesterday was one of the most incredible things I've been to, and I'm still buzzing from it. A small, carefully selected group of journalists and bloggers, sitting down to champagne, tea, sandwiches, and Lauderee macarons and cakes, to meet Camila Batmanghelidjh, who has founded the Kids Company.

This year, they are the charity of choice for the West End VIP event. Camila told us about what they do, and we asked questions (well, the others asked really good questions, I don't know about me) and basically sat and chatted with her. She explained how the cycle of abuse operates - I mean, how a child can absorb an early experience, in the base part of their brain - scientists are now able to scan, and measure, the activity of heightened stress. Somehow, 'acting out' - violent actions - have the effect of calming that activity down. And what they focus on is breaking that cycle, and art therapy is one of many ways that they achieve that: and they continue to be connected to these children, into adulthood. As they get places in colleges, into places like Oxford, and have lives transformed beyond any expectations.

So my way of thanking the team at RainPR, and American Express and the New West End Company, for making this happen, is to spend a little of my own time, making art. Bearing witness to what I experienced: and I haven't even become really involved. Not yet.

With Camila, inevitably the question of her fashion style comes up. She said she's always chosen to dress this way: in reaction, she feels, from growing up in a wealthy Perisan family - her mother was Roman Catholic, her dad Muslim - and having a mother who dressed elegantly 'A cross between Sophia Loren and Liz Taylor. And, as a child, she became inspired by the Iranian women in the mountains.

So as she dresses in this colourful style every day - each outfit, like a snowflake, uniquely different - but with the same kind of exuberance and style abandon, she is giving the clearest message to the kids to express themselves creatively. Encouraging them to style themselves as individuals, not to follow trends. It may seem a superficial thing, but from this sense of fashion confidence, of individuality - well, as we all know, anything is possible. Any goal is achievable.

This Christmas, for example, they will be giving over 3000 children a Christmas beyond their wildest dreams. Children will come into the centres, and taxis will be donated to bring them in, and volunteers will be coming to thousands of homes, bringing food and gifts. Phenomenal.

Camila is: how can I describe the experience of being in her presence. It's akin to being in the presence of a large, multi patterned Dalai Lama, on acid. Somehow, you'd think in a room made of patterns, with all that sugar and confectionary.. I cannot describe how calming the experience is. Because what Camila exudes is happiness. She spends her days with children - and into adulthood - who have had the most traumatic of experiences, and she transforms their lives. She and her team. I have spent nearly 24 hours now, digesting this experience, and since I don't have the words yet to tell you. Not yet.

Because I also feel that sometimes, while images are better at conveying experience than words - especially MY words, as brevity is not my strong point - I also feel that actions speak louder than words.

So with that in mind, I'll be going to KIDS COMPANY this week, to help out. Wrap presents (I'm a great present wrapper: Virgo, perfectionist, super slow but it will be perfect: they'll lucky if they get two out of me in a day), but also roll up my sleeves and do whatever needs doing. If you want to join me, pop me an email. Or, give any way you see fit. Money is always nice.

What are you doing the weekend of the 10th and 11th December? Care to join me on Oxford Street?

And I'll leave you with a clip of a song that has happy memories from my idyllic childhood: all the more precious, when I realise how blessed I am: our childhoods stay with us all our lives. But the good news is, thanks to the inspiration of people like Camila Batmanghelidjh and her staff of hundreds, and thousands of volunteers, we don't have to be defined by the traumas of childhood. We can heal. We can live happily ever after.

Save the date: 10th & 11th December, Oxford & Regent's Streets: they'll be shutting it off to traffic, huge discounts - 30% off - magic magic magic Christmas spirit. Be there or be square.


and while the Pope owns 51% of General Motors

My gift to you on this autumnal Monday morning: a juxtaposition of a different kind. Sound and image that seem, at first, in contrast (catwalk shots, George Harrison) but.. well, what can I say. Click below, turn up the volume, even if you're in the office, and let me know if it works.

Let's just say: I've been up to here with the dark side of the fashion blogging world, and it's time for me to go into the light. And both this show, and this song.. I'm all about the spiritual for me, these days.

I have not been able to get this song out of my head for over a week, ever since I saw Scorcese's BRILLIANT film. I love how, in the film, he described writing this song: he was friggin' BRUSHING HIS TEETH and humming the melody, and thinking 'you don't need no bedpan, you don't need no blah blah'.. and I keep picturing my first, and favourite show, Corrie Neilsen's, this September. And I'm sorry I'm not linking her, or telling you more about her - she's amazing - but I'll be showing you more photos, I promise, and I can tell you about her then.

In the meantime, check out these lyrics.

I've been invited to something today that I'm really excited about: and it has nothing to do with selling stuff. This time of year especially, I am turning my focus to what really matters.

Have a nice day, dear friends. And Hari Krishna!



I like people who keep things simple. And I like people who do what they say. So when I was contacted by Ashley, at CUTEY, who managed to say in less time than it will take me to write this post, that.. actually, I'll quote her email, in its entirety:


I saw your blog and wondering if you would be intrested in reviewing one of our bracelets, or running a givaway?
I'm from the brand cutey(http://www.cutey.co.uk), we produce a range of charm bracelets.
We've only just launched.

Let me know, thanks.

Ashley Peach

I said yes, sent my address, couldn't choose between four styles, she sent all four - they retail for £12.99 each - and they arrived like two days later. And shame on me for not doing this post sooner, because Laura of A Daisy Chain Dream already did hers. And Ashley asked me to be honest, and critical - because they are the manufacturers as well - and let her know anything that I didn't like.

My only complaint - and this is a very small complaint - is, coincidentally, what Laura said: the clasp is a bit 'fiddly'. Can you see tho: it's really strong and well made, and it's like a barrel that opens, and it's really just a question of getting the hang of it.

But what I love - besides the price, and the quality for the price - is that each one has this unique little mixture, and the names are connected to Greek gods. And they're great Christmas gifts. Really CUTEY.

Thank you, Ashley, you're a Peach!


altered egos

For a coon's age, I've been wanting to join in with the wonderful women who do the FBFF posts (that's Fashion Beauty Friend Friday, a generous creation by Katy Rose of Modly Chic): this is the week I'm ready to dive in.

The question is: who is the person we'd be if circumstances allowed? We're meant to create an outfit - a self style post - but it's dark and I only have the cat at the moment to shoot me, so I'm cheating and drawing from my pre-blog, pre-marriage, NY Sex and the City days (this was pre S&tC, too: I was kind of a cross between Carrie, I guess, and Charlotte. Okay, I admit it: sometimes I was Samantha).

I've been musing for days now, back then, what did I want to be, and how does it shape up with who I am today? I wanted to be an artist: I expected I'd be an artist. I also at that time was being mentored by probably one of the greatest living art collectors, and I kind of chickened out. Many careers seemed too scary: the art world seemed more for the Big Boys. But what I did do - and there was no outlet for it - was bring my dad's old Pentax, and a tripod - in this case, onto a roof - but anywhere. On trains, cars, planes.. I was doing self style, and calling it art.

So I guess part of me wanted to be a ballerina. I still have this vintage swimsuit somewhere - yes, it is a swimsuit, with a pleated skirt - and in those days, I wore bare legs with black boots and slouchy socks, even tho no one else was.

Fascinating post, btw, from blinking against the brightness, on the subject of self style bloggers, and the idea of fame and yes - appropriate for this post - ego. While a boyfriend at the time thought I was pretty weird for always taking photos of myself - for my art - I was mainly doing it because I knew what I wanted, I was my own best Muse, and I wouldn't inflict that on anyone else. Nor expect them to have the patience.

But I've been reflecting a lot lately on the idea of women - they're mostly women, altho there are a few blokes - round the world, patiently, regularly, taking photos of themselves and putting it on the internet. There's great book I read years ago, by Susan Sontag, called ON PHOTOGRAPHY, and she talked about the different ways that we use photography. How we can go on holiday and not really be present: we're just going for the photo album. In those days, people had photo albums. She dbecame, fittingly, Annie Leibowitz's partner, and she died, tragically too young, several years ago - but I wonder what she would have made of this phenomenon.

I don't know if I had a burning desire to wear the white dress and for some man to give me a big rock: I had my share of boyfriends, really cute ones, too. And I did, just when it seemed my mom was going to give up on me, become a wife. But I never did get round to being a Mom. And I don't know why. And I don't know, yet, if I regret it, but sometimes I think, that if we did have kids, my husband and I might have been pretty good parents. I guess we'll never know. But my friend Linda sent me this shot, from before we moved to London. I have no idea whose baby it is. I guess I was just trying it on for size, but I don't seem to be paying it very much attention. Perhaps it's better that we just have a cat: he practically takes care of himself.

Big thank you to LILI of RELATABLE STYLE for hosting the post this week. If it was your concept, thank you as well!


with thanks

A friend said recently that I'm writing my posts as if no one was reading. In a way, it feels like that, especially today: if you are in American, you're probably not. You're either cooking, or trying to get out of work in time to get on the road, on a train, to the airport, in time for dinner, in the middle of the afternoon.

And here in London, you'd never know Thanksgiving existed. I bought up one of the six cans of Libby's tinned pumpkin last week: any ex-pats now in the area - and there are many - are basically screwed.

I think of the flip side that Jonathan Adler was talking about, the flip to his bling side: the craftsman in his soul. The potter. Jonathan was a 'production potter' for five years. I asked what that meant and he said 'I produced pots, by hand. Night and day.' He said he was basically unhire-able: he just made pots. I asked if he knew the St. Ives school of potters, and he, too, had been there. To Bernard Leach's (as shown here). That's what I was dreaming of last night: his studio. His pots.

That's what my husband and I want this year: not more shoes. We want to find a pottery studio in London, to take a course. We have been collecting pottery for years: now it's time to get our hands dirty.

Last night I kept waking and having images: of these shots I took with my husband, a few years ago in St. Ives, or of Georgie and my lovely friend Estelle (Serendipity2307), in Regent's park. That's me, in the black swimsuit, years ago, shot with my dad's Pentax on timer. I was thinking of something a friend wrote yesterday, about 'doing service.' How he'll hold a door open for people, and they won't say thank you, but he'll thank them, for allowing him to 'do service'.

Each morning, I try to think of the things I am grateful for each day, because I believe that that attitude of gratitude is the core of what makes me a happy person. The attitude of want, envy, jealousy, competitiveness, backstabbing, bitchiness, and all the things that can become exploited through the fashion blogging world - that 'I need those shoes' 'I'm jealous of your legs' mentality - that idea that our blogs are like the X Factor, and there is only one winner.. it is all so toxic, and so poisonous.

So Thanksgiving, for me, besides being a sacred holiday for my family - it felt like we OWNED Thanksgiving, growing up - it was our special time, and also my father's birthday - Thanksgiving is for me the sacred time to look back, to reflect, to look forward.

This year, I am grateful for all the things I don't ever want to take for granted: my life, my health, the life and the health of all the people I love - and who love me. And there are so many, so very many, in varying degrees.

I am grateful that I can still move around, and dance, and swim, and relish in nature, free from pain, free from danger.

But I am also grateful to my enemies: the people who once pretended to be my friend. Who I helped, did service for - people at magazines, large companies, who had wanted me to work for free - and the ambitious bloggers, whose photos I shot, whose 'profiles' I helped raise, even at times doing someone's logo, masthead.. I even spent a day, home in bed with the flu, designing magazine layouts for a girl who wanted to be an intern, and instead of thanking me, she wanted more: changes, and contact names, and then when I saw her at fashion week and asked her if she had anything to say to me, she just looked at me in surprise and said 'I already said you did a good job.'

All those hours, thousands of emails and cupcake get togethers and photos, photos and photos, for people who now want to harm me, who want me banned from fashion week, who want to turn people against me, and all I ever did was finally step away.. I am grateful to you all. Because you have helped me realise, this year, that I am stronger than I thought I was. That I have a voice, and that voice will not be shut down.

I'm grateful, too, to the two girls at Spanish Elle, for ElleGate: it was just a year ago, come to think of it. They might not have ever said a proper apology, or come thru with any financial compensation for me or Roz, but hey- they brought the most wonderful friend, a Spanish lawyer, into my life, and they showed me how much support there was from people like you. Out there, around the world. The love I received far outweighed the pain. Living well, I always feel, is the best revenge.

I love this quote: "Forgiveness is NOT excusing what the other person did. Its refusing to be defined by what they did."

I was thinking about when I studied karate, in NY, a lifetime ago, with my then boyfriend. How we'd say 'please teach me,' then have a nice little punch up, and then say 'thank you for the lesson.'

I am grateful to my enemies: you have helped me define who I am, and who I don't want to be. And what, in the end, really matters.

I am grateful for all my experiences, good and bad, happy or sad. They all have helped me to grow, and, I hope, to better be able to serve my fellow man.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone: today I shall roast a free range chicken, and make all my favourite dishes, stuffing and pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce, a mini Thanksgiving for my grateful husband and very grateful cat (he loves chicken), and I will think of you all, my lovely friends, with gratitude, and wishes of health and happiness.


palm beach on acid

I was trying to think of the right song to illustrate this post, and The Girl from Ipenema immediate came to mind. But lo and behold, it's the stage set that got me - it's SO Jonathan Adler!

Are you sorted? Is it playing? Speaker turned up loud? Good.

It all began with an invitation from India Hicks to a party she was throwing for Jonathan Adler, to launch his first UK shop, on Sloane Avenue.

No, let me back up. It began at the beach house, many years ago, when my parents were opening a present from my brother, a lamp or a vase or a pillow, I can't remember what the first one was, and it was from Jonathan Adler, and that's when he was first telling me how amazing his work is.

No, sorry, it goes further back than that: for me, it really begins when I was born. Because from the first home I lived in - in Salt Lake City, Utah - but especially, in our childhood home on Long Island.. every item, every end table, lamp, the whole aesthetic, is SO FREAKIN' JONATHAN ADLER! I mean, in the beach house, we have these three stacking tables with inlaids that I love so much, and the closes I can describe it is the design, below:

So when I got the invitation, and told them what a fanatical fan my brother is, and how excited I was that he's coming to down, then said 'would you like to meet and interview him?'

Halfway into our half hour interview, I realised I wasn't letting him speak, because everything he was saying was making me want to interrupt and say something. Let's face it, I am no Barbara Walters. But what he did manage to fit in was so rich, so inspiring, so thought provoking, that I've realised I'm going to have to deconstruct my experience into a series of posts.

Starting with: 'palm beach on acid.'

Or rather, number 13 on his MANIFESTO. 'We believe in Palm Beach style: Louis chairs, chinoiserie, Lilly Pulitzer, The Breakers circa '72.' I grew up with that influence: all the trips to Florida, the images of Jackie Kennedy, those fabulous Palm Beach women that are not just too rich and too thin, but also, let's face it, too tan - when I started streetstyle shooting, I spent a few days snapping them - they still exist. I love that whole aesthetic: it is the original bling. I remember a school friend named Pam, her bedroom in the family's MacMansion was the size of most people's houses, two walk in closets, one for just her shoes, and it was top to toe hot pink and acid, neon green.

What my brother, uncannily said a few hours after I met Jonathan, is that there are two distinct sides to his work - and the fit uncannily well together, in his two level shop that feels like a suburban home in the late sixties. There's the side that my family homes reflect: the taste of my brother's homes now, of what my husband and I love. And then, there's that.. Palm Beach on Acid, there's no other way to describe it. If you've seen the amazing Tom Ford film, A Single Man, (and if you haven't, why haven't you??), I'd describe the two sides as Colin Firth's character's home - rustic, minimal, beautiful, simple, masculine - and his friend and one time lover, played by Julianne Moore. Her home is spot on that aesthetic.

I was inspired by a post from Lili&Mae, on the relationship between interior design, and fashion. In a period where I'm trying to avoid press days, so I don't bore you guys with shots of merchandise (let's face it: do you really want to see the canapes I've eaten, and how good, really, can one make some clothes on a hanger), what is inspiring me much more is this experience, this store.

The distinction between Jonathan's two styles, two natures, as he explained it to me, is 'unapologetically fancy', and his crafts style. He is, at core, a hand crafted potter. That is his poet's soul side. But the unapologetically fancy side, especially this time of year when we're facing winter and darkness and cold - and Christmas - to me, manifests in glitter and sparkle and yes, a bit of bling, like Chloe's sequin top, or Starrett's Prada shoes.

All photos by me, shot at the new Jonathan Adler shop on 60 Sloane Avenue: during the day, and during the amazing party that night. Thank you to the lovely girls at TCS: Jess, Molly, Emma, for arranging this. But especially, thank you to Jonathan - no, to his parents, who sound like they've raised him with that wonderful spirit, and joy for life, to create with enthusiasm, and abundance. He's like a manufacturer of happiness.



The summer I was 12, I went to my first summer-long sleep away camp: Camp Birchwood, of West Goshen, Connecticutt, with my good friend Linda, who to this day is one of my closest friends. I can remember exactly what I wore to Grand Central Station, where my parents took my sister and I, to take the train with our new bunk mates. It was a very bright green, very sharp looking culotte dress - like one of those rompers, but not frilly. It had a really neat geometric check on it. I've got a phone somewhere - I promise I'll show you when I find it - with my camp counsellor, Patti, who was just the most beautiful 16 year old I had ever seen in real life. She had a blonde bob with streaks. She had a great figure and a boyfriend and she promised my parents she'd take good care of their daughter.

The first night, she and the other counsellors thought it would be fun to do every prank on us that we could ever consider, just got get it out the way and we'd know how cool they were. So they did the old trick where you put shaving cream on the palm of a sleeping person (me) and tickle their nose and they're meant to scratch their face, and get shaving cream all over them.

Except: I didn't wake up. I just mashed the shaving cream into my face, clogging my mouth and nose, and continued to sleep. And dream. I dreamt I was trapped in the shower - which I had already seen, and it was pretty scary, a white metal contraption that looked like a refrigerator - and that I was being suffocated by lime. When I did eventually wake up - they were shaking me and poking me - I was surrounded by the faces of my friend, my new bunk mates, my beautiful counsellor Patti and the other counsellors, laughing their heads off. They were ready to call 911, as they couldn't tell if I was breathing.

Turns out the shaving cream was lime scented, and I didn't even touch lime lifesavers after that.

Now of course, I love lime. I am lime obsessed. I always have several fresh limes at home, I ask for wedges of lime with tap water whenever I'm out, and I've yet to find anything, sweet or savoury, that is not enriched with a squirt of fresh lime. Perhaps tomato sauce - but I haven't tried that yet.

So when the people at Coty sent me a press notice about PHILOSOPHY's new fruity bath and shower gel range, I did something I rarely do: I asked them to send me a sample to review. And they did! And I love it! It's a sweet but not too sweet, has a really thick concentration to make lots of foamy goodness (I bet it would be great, actually, for pranks at camp), and it's good fun. I love the packaging - it really brightens up the bathroom - and I use it with abandon.

I've noticed by the way, that bright greens - emeralds, all shades of green - are the party colour of the moment. I shot these at the fabulous Jonathan Adler launch the other day (more about that later) and I'm telling you: wear green, wear that same shade that no one uses any more in Christmas decorations, and you'll stand out in the crowd. In a good way.

All photos by me, by the way (I can't keep on doing those logos all the time - you're not going to copyright infringe me any more, are you?) and the Philosophy LUSCIOUS LIME shower gel was meant to launch 26 September, but I can't find it. But you can find other good flavours here. And you can't beat the Philosophy: savour life's luscious moments.

back to basics

It's been a long time, far too long, since I've been to any yoga class, let alone our friend and teacher, Arup Sen. I'll be missing his class again today, because it is the only time I can see a friend I haven't seen for a while, but I will also feel his influence.

Arup is one of the most spiritual people I have ever met.

My husband told me how one time, he was walking down the street and saw, from a distance, a man attaching a chain to his bicycle wheel. He told me, after, that even from that distance, everything about this man, his body language, everything, showed the concentration and focus of a man chaining his bicycle. As if, were you to read the thought bubble above his head, it would read 'I am attaching the chain to my bicycle now.' When he got closer he realised that was Arup, about to teach the yoga class.

Among the things that Arup does, he builds bicycle wheels. He can teach you how, for free, or he can build one for you. He used to charge £10, years ago, but he now charges £20. Or a discount rate of £35, for two. I guess it's his idea of a get rich quick scheme.

I have a lot of goals in life, but my main one is to quiet my mind. I want a mind like a nice clean white room, with a view of the sea.

I want to simplify my life: less clutter. Less friends. Just keep the good ones. Less clothes. Simple clothes. It's funny how, while some of the food at the Aqua Nueva brunch (aqua nueva: new wave) was quite complex to prepare, the presentation was so clean. And while I don't normally eat meat, especially pork, there was something so beautiful about the simplest dishes at the brunch: a perfect fresh crusty roll. A slice of good Spanish ham. Perfect green olives. Soft, fresh almonds. Crisp cold champagne, on ice.

I want to celebrate being alive, being here now, with the people I love. And not wanting any more than that. I want to be present, in everything I do. And above all, I strive to be kind to everyone around me. It's a simple plan, but hey: it's time, for me, to get back to basics.


give me a ring

There's also a song I cannot get out of my head: I am singing it as I type this, and I didn't even like it years ago - but it plays in the cafe where I write, and now, I'm giving it to you - like a gift - so you might, or might not, get it stuck in YOUR head:

Does this ever happen to you? You'll have a flash of a memory and realise, no, that didn't happen, it was a dream. But you can't remember the dream. Yesterday I was at the V&A, I was meant to meet a friend and went early, to be alone and write (I'm finishing my novel), and the water is still in the pool in the middle, but you can't get there cause they've laid down a new lawn. And the cafe was closed. But I had taken these rings here when I first met my lovely, beautiful (in ever sense of the word) friend Alexandra, of Mon&me, to see this amazing collection of KumKum silver jewelry up close. And to talk about the line, which isn't yet available in the UK: it's only starting to. Mon&me are the sole distributors.

Anyway: the dream. It wasn't a full dream, just a flash of an image of someone wearing my Swedish KumKum ring (that's mine: that gorgeous indigo blue zircon cocktail ring, solid silver, heavy and magic, like the eye of God - I feel like it's my Muse, I seem to write better when it's on), only what I remembered - or thought I did - was meeting someone who was wearing the version with the black stone - but turquoise stones surrounding it. But that didn't happen. It was only a dream.

The prices are really good, for solid silver, handmade, beautifully, uniquely different. The middle shot, for example: it's like a wedding ring - and it can be a wedding ring - but in the context of being on this finger (I wear mine on a middle finger) it is just so elegant. And delicate. You can't yet buy these rings at a store in the UK, but we're working on that! In the meantime, best to simply contact Alexandra directly.

I love, by the way, how English people say 'give me a ring' or 'ring me'. So old fashioned. Much better than 'tweet me' or worse, 'follow me.' Don't follow anyone, I say! Be your own person.

BRILLIANT blue skies: I hope no one is reading this, that you're all outside, having fun.

KumKum rings are available online, or better yet, if you'd like to see them in person, or buy them in the UK, call or email Alexandra at Mon&me. Tell her Jill sent you.


skinny star punk pants

My friend Arlynn (not a blogger - a civilian) said recently that she liked my zipper jeans, but that I shouldn't have worn them with a boxy top - that a sheer blouse would be better. I agree. When we did our 127 looks in under three hour shoot with the fabulous Flora, the three of us (third being, Lucie of the Vagabond Van) all voted for this combo: skinny star punk pants and a pretty pink top.



Someone said that Flora was such an 'old soul': I feel the same about my friend Rosalind. Because 'everyone' was shooting her at fashion week, and she was hanging out with us, I somehow forgot to shoot her - and on the day I did, I forgot to go thru the photos. And when I did, it struck me once again what a truly old fashioned girl she is. The same age as Flora - 16 - that magic age when one minute you're still a girl, the next you're as grown up a woman as you'll ever be. I was on a bus not that long ago and suddenly saw myself as a very old woman: invisible. And at the same time, I had a flash of being 19, away from my family and my friends and especially, my love at the time: he was in Hawaii, and I was in Copenhagen, far from home. And I had felt, on a bus going home to my Danish family, as old, as wise, as eternal, as I feel today at times. That flash of memory, that synapse of time. Life, as an old school friend said recently, when filling me in on her life, goes by in the blink of an eye.

I don't want to gush too much about Roz: I already have quite a bit and besides, it might go to her head. But I must say it's a funny old friendship - our difference in age is so vast, but, like with my friends in their 80s and even 90s, we think alike about what matters, I feel.

Tinted these, but, like Dorothy in Kansas, my next post will, I predict, burst into colour.