Escape By the Sea

Windy escape by the sea, tranquil promenade on the sand and kisses on the top of a cliff: I am in love… Limestone houses, tall palm trees and beautiful sailing trips: my love found its sanctuary. Hello lovely Mallorca, blissful island and home of my dreams… bye bye rainy England, cold London and foggy Thames.

Dreams in my Roses Courtyard

Pretty roses, beautiful garden and a few dreams: this afternoon will be spent dreaming away in my roses courtyard. A delicate breeze, a subtle perfume and my leather notepad: today will be spent writings of dreams, writing away. Musings and roses, sun and dreams… this is a delightful day.

Rainy Days and Bicycle Riding

Stubborn little rain, please stop pouring in on the top of my head. Funny little wind, please stop blowing in my hair. Oh really, what an exhausting cycling you two make! Hold on dark clouds, hold your breath tiny storm and let me cycle through the pretty country paths of Ile de Re.

Italian People

Italian people are funny people. Dark hair, hairy and noisy, they move their hands all the time, flirt continuously and sing more than they speak. Italian people can only live in Italy. That’s because they are really unhappy in foreign countries – too cold, too grey and really ugly. Italian people like history. Especially the one of the fifteen century. Often exaggerating, sometimes striking, never boring, what lovely people there are in Italy.

Nice weather for ducks

Ducks are funny things. They have got a funny floaty bottom pointing up in the air when they feel like having a face bath and make funny sounds, an irritating mix of the voice of Celine Dion when she is ill and an old klaxon. I love watching ducks paddling, on the surface they look calm as ever but underneath their little orange feet paddle away desperately. Oh and I love their wiggly bottom, it makes them look like an old Italian mama when they walk from one pond to another. Now that I speak of it, I myself wiggle my bottom quite a lot, lost a few neighbours after singing Celine Dion a little bit too loudly and always smile while paddling fiercely underneath. Perhaps ducks and I have got more in common than I thought, perhaps there is much to learn from funny ducks.

Where are we going my darling?

I love choosing where to go away. I take my large maps, an old travel book, a large cup of tea and spend hours making my decision. Do I want to walk in the sand, dine on the riverside or walk up the dusty staircase of a castle? Will it be sunny? Windy? Rainy? I choose a pink dress for a promenade in a courtyard, stripy top to go sailing or a taupe cardigan to visit an old library. I always go for quirky town names and little villages. I avoid the too known destinations in the benefit of the secretive ones – it’s the explorer in me. And every time, even for the smallest expeditions, there are the same symptoms: little sleep, careful bag packing full of useless things: hand cream, funny camera, a book that I will not read and the usual rush to get to the train station. This little routine before my times away is like a delighful trailer, the little salmon on toast just before the big meal…I cherish preparing my times away.