Yes ok, its bit crazy, but sometimes I buy things like pretty trays, just for the joy of it.

I have quite a few, and each has its own story. Some are old, others are older. Some are new and likely made in their thousands, e.g. the Bright Birdy Tray which is from Ikea. It doesn’t matter to me because fun prints make me happy and with enough shelves, trays can be propped up or even hung up, like art.

Yesterday, walking by the window of the British Heart Foundation charity shop, I was stopped in my tracks and compelled to buy a new tray for my collection. I deliberated over it, not because it was expensive (it was in the sale at £1.99 – BARGAIN!), but because I really don’t need another tray.

But it spoke to me with its Bauhaus-esque repeating hearts, its simplicity, and the fact that it was all for charity. I knew, just KNEW, that if I didn’t buy it right then and there, I would go home and think about it and want it and wish I’d bought it and have to write it on my list of things to do to go back and get it.

1 Comment | In: Happy Things | tags: bauhaus, birds, British heart foundation, collections, floral, ikea, pretty, tray, trays, vintage. | #

So the sun came out today, probably not wearing a hat, but bright and cheering anyway in the cold, harsh early days of January. Normally this is a bleak time, very bleak. But not today.

The glorious brightness of the sunshine made me want to fling the windows open wide, hang washing on the line, feed the birds their summer fayre and wear florals and pale lipstick and my short sleeved jacket. Memories of summer came back to me; birds and bees doing their thing, flowers in bloom and the reassuring warmth beaming down from the sky.

Weird how something so simple, so basic, can have such a profound effect really? And we’re still technically in winter. Obviously its too cold for short sleeved anything, but with gloves, not so bad. And the afternoons are getting longer already; so there’s hope. Definitely hope on the horizon for the warmer weather and the exciting possibilities of Spring.

This time last year it was snow and ice and burst pipes. I’m certain we have some slates off the roof and a slightly unstable chimney thanks to hurricane bawbag and its big ugly brother, but because the sun shined today, I felt bright and vibrant and happy to be alive; wind in my hair, the joy of wearing two scarves (one silky ladylike affair, the other all wool and warmth), my pink converse splatted with paint and peachy-pink blusher like the bloom of a rose.

“A rose is a rose is a rose” as Miss Stein once said. Happy January:)

No Comments | In: Happy Things, Lifestyle | tags: bawbag, florals, happiness, joy, lipstick, pink, rose, sunshine. | #

So I bought an orange. A while ago. It sat in the kitchen for some time, moving between the fruit bowl, by the tea bags, on top of the tea bags, next to the popcorn and then over the sugar. It got around.

The thing is: I don’t eat oranges. I don’t like them. Never have. Not since I wanted one as a child – “ooh, bright, dimply pimply thing” – and my Dad made me eat it, bit by bit by bit, all the while the fleshy pithy orangeness churned around my mouth like cud.

I just hadn’t expected it to be so chewy; so bloody unpalatable. But it was. And I was stuck with it for my childish yearning.

Ever since then the mere hint of anything from the general Family of Orange (clementines, tangerines – how does anyone ever tell the difference?)  has been avoided in general. When people eat oranges near me, or I see their pathetic white peel with its stringy segmentations, I cringe inwardly and scarper.

That was up until last year, when dining in an Indian restaurant, the waiter brought a plate of juicy looking segments with the hot flannels. After the spicy richness of a bhoona there was something so refreshingly zesty about a bright beacon of orangeness. And I quickly realised that under such circumstances, it was quite acceptable to delicately suck a segment rather than attempt to peel the peel with bare hands.

So I gave it a go. I did it. I’d never had a problem with orange juice, and I LOVED it; I wanted it ALL!

Since then, I have cautiously approached the orange aisle in the supermarket, and bought the occasional orange to enjoy after a meal in a palette-refreshing way. And it was in this way I ended up with a stray orange nestled atop the Kilner jars in the kitchen.

I eyed it suspiciously and day after day, decided I would have it the next. I couldn’t remember if it had been there since Dad visited in September, but then surely he would have eaten it himself? Then I started to worry if it was past its best. Gone, over, sour.

The curious thing is it didn’t seem to age. No mould ever formed on its robust and taught skin. Lemons – you know where you are with them because they quickly mould over if you aren’t watching. This orange was different: even after I took its photo, I left it for another week or so. Still nothing. And this time I was counting, scrutinising, supervising the situation.

Finally, yesterday, although it seemed to look ‘OK’, I decided that enough was enough and the consumption of fruit beyond three months old was not decent for 2012.

I threw it in the bin and vowed never to buy another orange ever again.

I should have drowned it in the mulled wine while I had the chance.

2 Comments | In: Lifestyle, Rebecca, Trends | tags: clementines, food fears, orange, oranges, segments, tangerines, zest. | #