Aide Memoire

Two weeks ago sitting alone at a table of a small restaurant in a Corfu side street I sent The Famous Writer a single word text 'Temptress'  accompanied by a wonky photograph. What can it be when one woman sends such a message to another? When alone women talk of many things, of books and ideas, of men and family, dieting and face-lifts  all of which have their temptations but when it comes to leading  another astray, to excess,extravagance, (what you will) I'm prepared to guess shopping for oneself is at the top of a woman's list. And so it was, I had bought this

We had seen the necklace on our outward journey, a long lunch hour spent seeking shade in the alleys of Corfu town, in the time between our plane from Gatwick landing and our departure for the tiny island of Paxos,  I had tried it on, reluctantly relinquishing it to the lovely shop keeper who didn't mind how long we lingered and longed after his jewellery but only bought postcards (themselves things of beauty, black and white images of 1950s Greece).  But when on my return journey I had nearly a whole day before my flight I succumbed.  Thus my text message.  And this rather unflattering photograph

TFW had employed all her writerly skills to persuade me to buy (all by text) 'the stones are precisely your colours', 'they will remind you of Greece during cold grey winter days', 'the shop keeper is so nice...'  How could I not buy?

It has sea blues and greens

 Milky stones as pale as the early morning light through my bedroom window at TFW's house

Jewel colours of the trinkets in the tourist shops

 Amber like the setting sun through the olive trees in the garden and

 pearls as white as the sun bleached pebbles on the beach

And in a way that only our good friends know they are 'my colours' and the colours of the clothes I make and wear, like my girly top

and my sorbetto blouse

But perhaps most telling of all is what is actually in my stash, blues, greens and wine red

Colours all around me  and memories of the alleys and back streets of Greece

How could I not love it?

xx

c

Icons

I think about Icons quite a lot while I am in Greece.  Whether it is simply reproductions in a souvenir shop, a single, saint's image hung on a cottage wall or the stunning treasures that gleam gold from their resting places on the walls of one of the numerous orthodox churches, for me they are the image of Greece.

Possibly more people use the word presently in the context of their mobile phone.

Saints’ images are not my only Greek icons, there are also those related to the beautiful land, food, sky and local inhabitants.  I have been travelling to this tiny Ionian island almost yearly for 10 years now and each year I wonder if I have now seen everything and whether there is anyhting I havenot photographed, but I always find something and sometimes can’t resist taking another picture of a favourite image or scene. 

Like lemons in the sunshine

Or a view from our harbour side table as we sip local rosé

Then there is the corner of a garden

Goats

Or my breakfast set out in my favourite place in the early morning sun

 And finally this year I have brought my knitting

xx

C

PS  more of the Cushion Triptych in my next post