Greetings and Happy Monday! Thank you for being here. This newsletter is undergoing a metamorphosis, so please bear with me. Your presence is much appreciated.
As a permanent resident of the US for almost 13 years, I have adapted to American-English spelling, but I must admit I do miss seeing that ‘u’ in certain words like ‘colour’. For this post, I am reverting to my roots and using British-English spelling.
Last Monday in the US was Memorial Day, a federal holiday to honour those who died while serving in the United States Armed Forces, and, on a lighter note, the unofficial start of summer. Memorial Day was a special one this year as Nik, my younger brother, (a decorated vet himself from across the pond—he was Captain of the Irish Guards) arrived in NYC that morning.
Work brought him over—he’s now a finance guy—and it was his first time back in the city since we were kids. I skipped my sisterly sightseeing duties (we already did that 30 years ago) and took him to a couple of my local haunts: first to Gemma for a pizza, then onto an Irish pub called Swift for a few pints and a jig. Alas, there was no jigging to be had (the traditional Irish band that usually performs was not there) but we had a jolly good time.
Red
Seeing flags everywhere for Memorial Day got me thinking about the colours red, white and blue. I wasn’t going to lead with this, but after last week’s ruling, I see a lot of red in America’s future. I am not a political person (despite being the daughter of a former politician), but like so many others, including “Fearless Leader Trump” as my husband Danny calls him, I thought that trial was an absolute disgrace. I have a feeling that come November, those ballot boxes will be spewing red.
Moving swiftly on… another leader, King Charles III, will be celebrated this month for the official birthday of the British sovereign, a grand annual ceremony known as Trooping of the Colour. I have always been a fan of the Royal Fam and happened to be in London last May during the coronation, which renewed my affinity for the old country. Nowhere in the world do you see a pompous parade on that scale like in good old England.
Much has been said about the King’s first official portrait by Jonathan Yeo. My first thought when I saw it was: Bloody Hell! After the ghastly impulse passed, I honed in on the details—the face and the fingers (both of which Yeo nailed)—the butterfly on his shoulder (a monarch, of course)—and then the big picture looked a little less, er, bloody.
Going back a few centuries, I couldn’t help thinking that a portrait like Yeo’s would have been more fitting for his predecessor, the first King Charles, who turned his country into a bloodbath. Charles I was a stubborn king who went to war on his own people, resulting in his own bloodshed when they tried him for treason and chopped off his head.
His son, the second King Charles, also known as “the Merry Monarch”, was a very different leader who enjoyed the finer things in life and lived like the king he was as this resplendent portrait of him in all his regal finery shows:
White
I always enjoy reading
on beauty in The Guardian (along with 's weekly beauty column in The Sunday Times), and her recent article on The Body Shop took me right back to my teenage obsession with White Musk. I used to love The Body Shop so much that I would put ‘Body Shop Basket’ on my Christmas and birthday wish lists. I delighted in tearing off the gift paper wrapped around a green wicker basket chock full of all my favourite products like camomile shampoo, banana conditioner, mango lip butter, and my first grown-up scent: white musk perfume oil. Ah, the 90s!Another white that caught my attention recently was “that silly little dress” as the designer William Travilla dismissed it—only one of the most famous dresses in cinematic history. I’ve seen The Seven Year Itch before and decided to watch it again during one of my ‘mood for an old movie’ days (I find classic movies soothing). Marilyn is mesmeric in every scene she appears in, but the white dress above the subway grate scene (which lasts all of a couple of seconds) can deservedly be described with a word I think is overused: iconic.
Blue
For the past 25 years or so, I have been a fairly consistent journaller. I write stream-of-consciousness in notebooks. Journalling is a form of therapy for me, a chance to get my thoughts and feelings down on paper as I try to separate the wheat from the chaff, as the Bible says. (Despite being the daughter of a priest—same guy as the aforementioned former politician—I am not a religious person, I just felt like using that saying.)
When the pages of my current journal are almost full, I love the ritual of choosing a new one, the only books I judge by their covers, and the process of putting the nib of my pen to a clean and shiny first page. The joy of starting a new notebook gives me a thrill like no other. I am particularly taken with this blue one I’m using at the moment:
In other news, (I saved the best til last), my husband Danny and I have welcomed a little He-baby into our family. We are smitten and have named the adorable creature Bugsy. Here he is in his new baby blue harness:
Green
I wrote today’s newsletter from the window perch of my bedroom in Southampton, a quaint town on the East End of Long Island that is part of “The Hamptons”. Danny (a born and bred New Yorker / bona fide Hamptonite), Bugsy and I have relocated here for most of the summer, and I couldn’t be happier. I find this place so tranquil, not a word usually associated with The Hamptons, which is best known for its summer social scene. For me, it’s less about the scene (I couldn’t care less) and all about the scenery, as in the luscious greenery. Oh, and the beach, of course.
On that note, I will end with this video of Bugsy’s first run in the garden:
Until next time, Toodle-oo!
A fun interesting read! Here’s to the red, white and blue and to my favorite green part—welcome, beautiful Bugsby!