First order of business: to thank Jia Li for sending me an enveloped filled with such pretty things!
This and a handmade thank you card (for the diary I sent her for Christmas).
Thank you Mich!
Let's see, what else? No more coughing, it is 99.98% gone!
I went for a long-overdue haircut today at my favourite salon in Knightsbridge. My stylist is Italian, I have found so far they are the best. Stefania gives me the most suitable cut. And that's not all, one of the juniors, who is Korean, gave me the best hairwash I've ever had, not to mention the shiatsu head massage. Her fingers must be worn to nubs.
When I arrived, there had been a minor power outage, so the kettle and fridge didn't work, but once my hair was washed it was up again with most of the lights, so the manager practically begged me to take some tea and I relented ;)
She made it for me on the tray this time, and there was the usual Jaffa cake alongside.
Afterwards, I spotted a nice pair of boots at Walk.
This would please my mother very much because when we were in Italy, she was disappointed that I had not bought the cool Italian boots we were looking at. I didn't because whenever I am out shopping with Mum I subconsciously measure her reactions to any items I consider. As she didn't encourage me, I didn't go in and try them on.
Back at the hotel she said, "Why didn't you buy those lovely boots?"
I said, "Because I needed your permission."
She replied, miffed, "You don't need my permission to buy anything!"
Well, yes, I do. I can shop alone, but when I am with the Mumsy, I need her approval for my purchases. It's just a mum-and-daughter thing. My landlady knew exactly what I meant when I told her. (She has a daughter my age, except she's married with a new baby.)
I tried them on later with my Ralph Lauren moleskin trousers and then had to run downstairs to make a cup of tea because I was choking on a Swedish roll. While I was there, my landlord came into the kitchen and commented that I looked very "horse-ridey" and had I been riding? I said no.
Then he returned to the living room and I overheard him telling landlady:
"Have you seen Olivia...blah blah...horse riding...blah...jodhpurs...boots...." etc.
But later wondered if he meant ever, or just today, because I did a bit here when I was little, and more in Texas when I was older. Western riding is sheer torture for me and I prefer the English saddle position.
I certainly do have a tough grippy pair of waterproof black leather boots that are great in the snow and I don't doubt they'd be good on a horse too. I pinched them off my Mum when we were in Canada two winters ago so she had to get a nasty pair of snow boots, hehe. And as she's nearly two shoe sizes larger than I am, I have to stuff these with insoles and wear two pairs of socks.
A few years ago, I asked my Dad what I could take up that he regretted not doing. He immediately said, "Horse riding."
It's a valid question, I mean he has ice skated, danced professionally, modelled, flown a plane, been on the original Avengers, hung out with actors and artists (his brother was a high-so. portraitist), gone shooting, dated a Rothschild, been on a Top Secret missile project, worked on the first Concorde design in France....
One of my friends and I once exhausted a list.
"Have you done [this]?" Yep.
"How about [that]? Done that.
The only thing he hasn't done is been on a submarine. I think...
I have a lot of catching up to do!
*Hmph* The Arts Club sent its newsletter this month by Adobe email attachment...Which means that to book any activities (and oh there are so many!) I have to print it out myself. *grumble*
They have a new head chef - the Club's kitchen is already renowned across "clubland" for its excellence - even my landlady agrees because her club (which is homeless) has held events there.
So now they've hired this chef who studied under Michel Bourdin, and has worked, among other places, at the Connaught Hotel, Waterside Inn at Bray, Gravetye Manor, and Goldman Sachs. Ew well, excuse me.
If you're wondering why invitations have not been forthcoming: They're not doing Sunday roasts until March. It seems everything comes to life in March, including the whole of Italy, whereas London never really sleeps.