Well, darlings.
It is looking a bit fresh, new and vulnerable out There.
Twenty-thir-teen.
Gosh.
We remember writing some (much) earlier year at the top (right) of our Latin prep (homework) ruled paper-bound (yes, children) exercise Book.
And marvel(l)ing at the newness of the Year.
We make no resolutions.
Some sketched out dreams with Lists; yes (daily).
But as you know, we believe Greatly in serendipity and delight and deliciousness.
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And writing-it-out.
To find out what’s next.
Responding to clues.
Often when curled up in a cosy corner of the couch with a pashmina perfectly-soft-ness to hand…….inside a book (the clues – we can’t climb inside the book – only metaphorically).
Isn’t it all glorious?
Life.
And all. That.
Jazz.
(you knew that was coming……and may we say what a classic shoulder shimmy that was – who knew ;) once a club-kid……..ah. Memories – oops. That did it. Barbra on the brain (or did you get the Elaine Paige version floating into Your head?)
We digress.
Which is fine with us.
Start the year as we mean to go on.
With a light tan (rooftop swimming at L’ermitage last week, darlings), a collection of journalism from Djuna Barnes (a Find indeed at the local library) and a View over Manhattan fire escapes behind which Others dream and plan too.
