Pauline Croze has a voice that comforts me; a little bit husky, a little bit of a lisp. She sings clearly and not too fast so I can sing along with her, following the lyrics to practise my French. The jazzy rhythm helps me remember the words; it’s also great for chair dancing. Sometimes I… Continue reading
Two sides of the same coin. My father brought some coins back from the Middle East in 1942. I like this one with its Art Nouveau flourishes and the hole in the middle. I hang it by a chain on a wrought iron bedstead.
The figs in my post for ‘Green’, two days ago, are starting to ripen. Today I ate the first one. Inside, it was deliciously pink and sweet.
The “English Bridge” at night: the bridge itself is partly visible if you click to enlarge the photo. The lamppost is on the bridge but the buildings are to its left. The “English Bridge” in Cairo was also known by its French name, Pont des Anglais. A few decades later it was nicknamed Kobri Badi’a… Continue reading
Green. Where do I begin? I see it through every window; the yard and gardens are full of it. In my back yard, a fig tree laden with green figs overgrows a garden of zantedeschias and red valerian, both flowerless here, and lemon balm, a relative of mint. Two steps hide beneath the luxuriance but… Continue reading
I don’t have a bathroom cabinet, I have a shelf. Actually, half a shelf, since my other half has the other half. Here’s a photo of some of the items on my half. The red perfume bottle and its reflection became an obsession and I took about ten photos before settling on this one, then… Continue reading
No, these are not my shoes, they are my son’s. You can see my shoes in the photo of 21st February. My son favours one particular style and buys them all from an American shoe store online. To my surprise he has never been disappointed with his purchase, and they always fit. There are five… Continue reading
I sometimes work in various people’s homes as a tutor, so I can’t show you those places. But most of the time I work at home. I run a household and I translate. At the table on the deck out the back I translate passages by hand, and then at the desk at the front… Continue reading
Rodin’s Burghers of Calais (Les Bourgeois de Calais, Auguste Rodin, 1889) in the Sculpture Garden at the National Gallery of Australia here in Canberra is my absolute all-time favourite sculpture. For me, the burghers can make a bad day better. And a good day ticklish. I sometimes come to the sculpture garden just to sit… Continue reading
I remember the moment I saw this verse in a calligrapher’s studio. Some friends were, at that period, busy making money, buying possessions and reading books about getting rich. The verse made complete sense and I bought a framed version immediately. Recently, a German calligrapher, a pen friend, asked me to send him a handwritten… Continue reading