O my giddy aunt! A perfectly ghastly week, from Monday to Saturday. By Friday it was so awful that my whole perspective turned on a hinge and I started to find the sheer awfulness of it quite funny. Hysterical laughter? Persecution mania? Perish the thought. Surely I don’t have my own personal full moon hanging around, encouraging lunatic behaviour and making me a nutter-magnet! My only consolation was going to be the design shows in London and I didn’t even make it there. My ticket is here, sadly unused. Sad times. On the plus side, I found a Jack Reacher novel which I apparently never read on my bookshelves. I don’t know how that is possible, but a gift horse etc etc, Plus, I got a replacement for a copy of an Asterix comic I foolishly gave away Plus a new translation of The Gallic War. Yep, my pleasures are pretty simple, and even better, cheap 🙂

So, for your edification: selected exhibits from Decorex. I particularly like the Simon Hasan leather pendant lights, the blingtastic Saturno table lamps, and the Hanky chandelier. Creatively, designers are upping their games this year which is all to the good. However, my fave pic of the week is of the Bar Botanique- Cafe Tropique in Amsterdam. Feast your eyes:

Pure beautifulness, I’m sure you’ll agree. I basically just want to move in, it’s so lovely. Other stuff that cheered me up was seeing Phil Hammond looking like he was chewing a wasp while standing next to the Blond Bombshell, aka Boris Johnson. Poor Phil, one of life’s charisma-free zones. He must hate Boris with the heat of a thousand suns. I laughed like a drain. It was also good to finally see Theresa May break her cover at the Basilica Santa Maria Novella. Nice ironic touch picking that venue; someone obviously has a good sense of humour. Message understood, war it is, then. In my newly burnished effort to spread bonhomie everywhere, I think you all ought to start the week with W.B.Yeats:

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Now, isn’t that lovely. On a more prosaic note, this gem by Adrian Mitchell:

Celia, Celia

When I am sad and weary
When I think all hope has gone
When I walk along High Holborn
I think of you with nothing on

Adrian, you are a very bad boy, but you’ve made me smile. Wishing us all a cheery, nutter-free week. Pip pip.

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