The Look-Return from the Forbidden Planet

Return from the Forbidden Planet

All this week I have been a little under the weather suffering from a nasty little bug that Steve came back with from France and promptly gave to me. My daughter and son in Law also have it now. The main feature is a horrid cough, well I have ever been a chesty person and anything cold or flu wise will sink to my lungs.

So Steve, who had this first, and therefore knows better than me (thinks he does anyway) has been constantly telling me to take advantage of the time as a rest period from training, and he is right, in that whenever I have picked up a little speed whilst moving around the house, it has brought on a coughing attack. So he as been telling me to sit down quietly, read, write or sew. 

Right then! I had taken delivery of a little jacket that was displayed onone of those annoying adverts that pops up on the side when you look at your FB feed. Actually, and this I swear is the truth, I do not recall ordering it. I did notice it and think it as rather me, though also over the top fussy, a bit Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts club band kind of thing. When I unwrapped it, I was disappointed at the workmanship and again that is me all over. Still it was something I could sit down quietly and address.

When I got a sewing kit out on the table where he was sitting;  my husband gave me ‘The Look’ and seeing that, I explained that the buttons were held on with spit and that I was planning to make sure that they did not fall off at the first wearing. He asked if I had counted how many there were. OK there was a military arrangement of sixteen big shiny buttons on the front. That was interesting on its own because the jacket did not actually fasten anywhere, it was all soft and hang loose, not wild about that. I stitched all of those on securely as well as the two on the epaulets.

I was still thinking about the lack of any functioning fastener, when I caught Steve giving me a more serious version of ‘The Look’. This time there was a slight twist of the mouth and I admit there was indeed just cause. I had put the jacket down at the end of the buttons phase and my imagination had taken a firm hold on my hands. What I was doing as he gave the upgraded ‘WTF are you like version of The Look’ was, that I was actually fastening an imaginary hook into a little embroidered silk loop, trying to see which side of the collar to place the hook and which side to place the tiny silk loop that I was planning to sew them.

My dear long suffering husband of almost forty years (next month) shook his head gently as I then picked up a little black hook and selected a skein of old rose embroidery silk and place the two together. Having painstakingly carefully worked the dainty ‘eyelet’ for the small metal hook, neither can be seen front the front. I did not want the jacket flapping in the breeze.  Job done.

That afternoon I wore the soft coat when we went to Chichesters New Park Cinema to see the most marvelously arty-farty film ‘At Eternity’s Gates’ that is brilliantly acted by Willem Dafoe as my own forever true love, the quite madly, way ahead of his time but utterly exquisite Vincent van Gogh.  Almost every book mark I have ever bought bears one of his works. 

Since I was still not recovered from my bug I had taken a bottle of water, hankies with Olbas Oil to inhale and some sucky-sweets to avoid a coughing fit. What I had not bargained for was the explosion of my emotions over the poor mans tormented life. A couple of times I was sure that I was going to make a complete and utter silly of myself. Indeed, I had to sit out the titles and credits at the end, which is something I like to do, but on this occasion the time was used to mop up my tears before going out into broad day light having attended the 2pm performance.

On the way back to the car park we had to pass the fairly new sculpture of John Keats by Vincent Gray. Keats is sitting on a bench in front of the house where he wrote Eve of St. Agnes, not too many years before his own untimely death from TB. I could not resist sitting down with him for a moment and pestering Steve to photograph me with my mobile phone. You cannot help but notice that dear Mr. Keats is also giving me ‘The Look’! Appraising my little jacket and asking “What planet are you from Madam, and who invited you to sit down with me anyway”?

The book , The Burning Chambers with 586 pages.... kept me quite during the week. It is also Chichester related since the best selling author is local resident Kate Mosse. I think I have read all of her wonderful stories.