Whew! What a week this has been! Tuesday, I was so scrambled that I dialled into my Wednesday night Italian class — a few minutes early, as usual — and found myself the only one in that virtual room. I “Left the Meeting” a few times and re-entered, checking my connection; I waited ten minutes — during which I emailed my instructor to ask where everyone was, etc. etc. . . . and finally I gave up, settling in to watch another tense episode of Spiral/Engrenages with Paul. . . So embarrassed when the penny dropped. . . Last email of the evening? “Mi dispiace! Sono imbarazzata.”
I’m guessing I’m not the only one anxious and tired and seriously discombobulated by too much attention to the news. So I’m sharing a few of the things that helped ground me this week or made me smile. Above, these little guys did both — very ground-ing, very cute, right? As seen on a neighbourhood walk. . .
Looking up can also be good, and light can be transformative. . .
Eyes back to the ground for this striking shadowplay, but then they’ll be drawn over the water, through the Vancouver skyline, and straight on back to those mountains. Much to love about my city. . . . And about walking it, as often as I can. . .
It’s been a while, but moving indoors with the cooler weather has impelled me to pull some old piano books out of their box and sight-read my way back into a few pieces I once memorized at performance level. Very long ago. . . .
In fact, it will be more than 50 years ago since Mrs. B. pencilled those reminders and dynamic markings on this page. . . more than 35 since I saw her again when she was sent out, as Royal Conservatory examiner, to the small town where I was teaching music. All those layers of time, and somewhere there will be old students of mine, perhaps, looking at my markings on their music and trying to remember my name (something vegetable, wasn’t it?)
It has also helped to connect with the Littles. . . we’ve had prolonged tours of art ateliers disguised as bedrooms. Perhaps I’ve got that backwards; at any rate, the room was very full, the art was ever so vibrant, and the iPad Facetime not too very prolonged — and the artist warned us, and apologized, each time she needed to put the iPad down and we’d “have to be looking at grey for a few seconds while I get organized.”
No screenshots of that particular call, but we also got a tour of the Italian’s room — and believe me, there was time for it in a 45-minute call. Each time we started to say good-bye, she would remember one more anecdote she just had to tell us or a new gymnastics/yoga move to demonstrate or another loose tooth to waggle. . .
Some small sartorial pleasures this week as well. . . sometimes instead of going from pyjamas to jeans to pyjamas to jeans, I change it up a bit, but I’m still prioritizing comfort. This COS sweatshirt dress/tunic — bought back in February and, until a few weeks ago, scarcely worn since then — turns out to be perfect for reading on the couch, sitting in front of the screen for a Zoom class, or heading out for a brisk walk before dinner. . .
accessorize with black trainers or these grey Glerup boot-slippers. . . .
and this little scarf that caught my eye from the window of a shop on Rue du Bac (Paris) last December. . .
One way to remember my travels while sheltering in place. . .
I’m also looking back on the last fifteen years of travel through various notebooks and sketch journals, as I may have already mentioned. Some pages — sometimes just a quickly jotted sentence — erupt with sensory stimuli. . . sounds, smells, sights, even touch of wind, brush of velvet couch, dusty hot walk or cool saltwater plunge. . . and I’m there again (London, Paris, Hvar, Turin) instantly. Other pages I puzzle over for a bit, especially if I’d forgotten to note the year in my original entry. . . Sometimes I can anticipate everything on the page after reading a few words, the memory still so fresh; sometimes the reading is like slowly recollecting a hazy dream hours after waking; sometimes the memory comes back quickly and sharply and I wonder how I could ever have forgotten it.
The pages below are from one of the tiny Moleskine notebooks I used to record travel experiences for a few years, favouring them for their portability. Maddeningly, they’re so small and portable that since I photographed these pages two or three days ago, I have somehow misplaced this particular notebook so I’m relying on guesswork when I tell you that I sketched this very quick pencil drawing
and transcribed an overheard conversation back in 2014 in London. . . . (I can’t believe I’ve spent over an hour now looking for a travel notebook I misplaced in the process of organizing my travel notebooks! UGH!)
Reading this little anecdote, I’m once again sitting at a table by the window, sketching the old fellow, then turning to my right . . . where, in my mind’s eye, I admire again that vibrant red (and equally vibrant make-up) worn by the woman with limited recall of her husband’s names (could she remember number two’s name? three?). . . . and when I share the page with Paul, he knows the scene instantly, laughing openly the way we couldn’t at a table only a few feet away. . .
In case you’d like a quick visit to Primrose Hill yourself, here’s a link to a post about that day. . .
I’m looking forward to next week when we’ll meet back here and the world will perhaps hold more hope for many of us. . . Meanwhile, I hope you might have found diversion here. In turn, I’ll look forward to your comments for further positive distraction, and I wish you all a Happy Weekend!
Your pencil sketch of the gentleman provided me with a remembrance of my own. Sitting in a pub in Notting Hill (The Duke of Wellington) on a cold December day, I noted an old gentleman (who looked remarkably like your sketch–cap and all) standing at the bar. While he wasn't particularly memorable, his companion was. The old fellow had a small Jack Russell Terrier perched on his shoulder contentedly sharing his master's pint. Evidently, both were regulars.
Lovely to 'see' you! And we devoured every season of "Engrenages" too.
Mary, one many years ago in a pub in that neighbourhood, a server passed my table with a tray of pints, all different colours of lager, ale, stout, maybe cider. A very old man at the next table said to me, "See that tray? •This• is England."
I had forgotten you once wrote about Primrose Hill but it made me smile…I have been there in my mind almost daily lately. I have four pubs in my mental rotation, and always stop in the park to read and watch the dogs.
I was mixed up this week too but thought Wednesday was still Tuesday. Ah, well…onward…
All these remembrances are hilarious…thanks for sharing, I enjoyed them.
Mary, Duchesse, Georgia, Susan: That I've triggered these memories, that you've shared them here, and that you're chatting with each other . . . these are some of the reasons I keep writing the blog — thanks! Georgia, in your daily (imagined) visits to Primrose Hill this week, keep an eye out for that Jack Russell perched on its human's shoulder . . . and while Duchesse's "very old man" may no longer be gracing the PH pubs, I'm sure you will think of him when the server walks by you (two metres away, wearing a mask) with a tray laden with the colours of England 😉
F.is such a gem……
My friend,we have another similar cos dress- mine is midi (or midexi???). I only don't know where can I wear off-white long wool dress right now? Maybe for cooking salsa at home….once 😉
Notting Hill………..
Dottoressa
We are full of hope and relief here in the States – it was worth the (first agonizing, then just annoying) wait for the election to be called. I got teary, and then got teary some more watching some of the celebrations, then got all the way weepy when Vice President-Elect (!) Kamala Harris walked onto the stage in her suffragette white last night. Then cried some more when Joe spoke.
I'm tickled to see the pride so many of my Canadian friends are taking in Kamala having spent some of her formative years in Montreal, and perfectly happy to share her with you.
I revisited Primrose Hill with you. It all seems long ago and faraway. Those tunic/sweatshirt dresses are great for elegant reading, stitching, sketching etc. It's funny how accessories bought during travels lift our spirits. I'm wearing a vintage turquoise bracelet from Arizona today. Thanks for the visit.
Dottoressa: Thank you for indulging this Nana — I think she is a gem as well 😉
I would have loved a similar dress in midi length — For me, the occasion for wearing it would be eating take-out sushi at home — guaranteed to splash soya sauce on the white wool!!
Carol: I'm not sure you can know how much the rest of the world has been affected. . . .and we Canadians are so close . . . such joy and relief here! (I hadn't heard the Montreal connection until just the last day or so — cool!)
Mme: I remember your stay in London — when was that? And Arizona. . . we've done some travelling, haven't we?! Someday, we will again. . .
I love your sweater dress. I had one that was so flattering and soft and comfortable and elegant, but I actually wore it out. I have acquired some others, but they lack the perfection of that old one.
Such pretty photos, and such brilliant sunshine.
I'm with you on the names…sometimes they come back, but others escape me…starts with a J, or I remember the naughty nickname but not the real name or some pet phrase they said.
One of the things I miss most in lockdown is eavesdropping on other people's dramas.
TofF: I know that search for a lost perfection . . . sigh. . .
I'm actually pretty decent with names — up until retirement five years ago, I would learn, by the third week, names of the 70-90 students I'd have in my classes — then my brain would practically delete all of those at the end of term and I'ld learn 70 or 90 more for the next term a few months later. I developed some tips. The anecdote I recorded was actually one I overheard — we were amused that the women couldn't remember the name of one of an apparent series of husbands.