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.
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.