I always miss this space horribly when I don't get a chance to post, but it tends to be the first thing to go when I'm busy. However, I wanted to write before the closing date of a particular exhibition that I'd like to tell you about. More on that later though.
A few weeks ago I celebrated my fortieth birthday. I hadn't really planned anything, but then a friend made me an amazing cake that was three tiers deep and it prompted me to arrange to see people to help me make my way through it. It ended up being a really lovely, relaxed time full of friends and family that went on for five days until the cake was finished. I would have missed out on so much had it been regular-sized (thank you, Emma).
My husband surprised me by having arranged for my sister, daughter and mum and I to spend the following weekend together in London.
We went to the Josef Frank exhibition that's currently on at London's
Fashion & Textile Museum. Josef Frank was an Austrian architect, better known for the textile designs he created after moving to Sweden to escape Nazi discrimination. His prints are breathtakingly lovely. I am always drawn to designs that have lots of tiny, delicate dots surrounding a bolder design, because it seems to lend a welcome softness - this is something that features in many of Josef Frank's designs.
It was a real treat that along with large lengths of fabric, the original design was often also shown. Especially interesting to see how he had planned out the repeat. I really love photos of people engrossed in looking at things in museums - you can almost feel the quiet stillness. It's my sister in the photo above.
As always, the way that the FTM lay things out was a complete delight. They have a very small space, but the thoughtful displays always feel visually exciting. For this exhibition, the way that they had hung the panels meant that everywhere you turned a new sight line of different fabric combinations was created.
They had also upholstered several sofas and chairs in Frank's fabrics, that they generously invited visitors to sit on. That feels such a rarity, as so often the fabrics are too old and precious to cope with an endless stream of visitors.
The colours in this design made it by far our favourite. The exhibition is on until 7th May and if you're anywhere near London, I'd implore you to go. You can book tickets
here, although I've never been turned away when I've bought them on the door.
A friend alerted me to the fact that you can actually import Josef Frank fabric and accessories from
this site. They are outrageously expensive, but incredibly beautiful.
Oddly,
our hotel had a very Josef Frank feel to it in places. This is one of the sitting rooms.
We also loved these displays created by tiny pebbles. Although it's set back from Trafalgar Square in a very quiet street, its still a large central London hotel, but it has lots of creative touches like this that soften its edges and make it feel really cosy. My sister and I stayed a few years earlier and fell in love with it. They do lovely hot chocolate in the bar if you're ever in the area during the day. After cocktails, we scurried upstairs to pile into bed to watch a film. My sister and I saw about five minutes of it before falling asleep, leaving my mum and daughter to finish it together.
We also visited
St Dustan in the East (do look at the photos - it's a lesser-known London landmark, but really beautiful), where the four of us sat in the sunshine, having a long and meandering conversation so bizarre and laughter-filled that I think I will remember it always.
In entirely other matters; through a strange electronic quirk, I'm only able to listen to my iPod docked in my car if I begin my journey by going
forwards (forgive me for giving no lead in to alert you to where this story is going - I'll deliver you to the destination in the next paragraph). Reversing out of a driveway or a space in a car park is seemingly so objectionable that seconds after I've committed the crime and begun moving forward, the music is confiscated and will only be reinstated if I can find somewhere to pull over to go through a long process of persuasion. Generally, a journey is best if I can just start by going
immediately forwards. Some days, it also finds a particular bend in a country road disagreeable and casts the car into sudden silence, leaving only the eerie sound of tyres on tarmac. I think it's a car that craves straight, Roman roads. The men at the repair garage tell us it's all working perfectly, looking askance when I speak of long, musicless journeys.
Anyway, the upshot of this is that there's still very much a place for CDs in my life, which seem solid and reliable by comparison and can be played irrespective of the direction of travel. For my birthday, my husband made me three compilation CDs, containing a song that was released in each of my 40 years - it feels so odd to listen to them in order and work my way through my lifetime track by track. It was a really lovely gift and has been on rotation in the car ever since. I usually have on the CDs that my sister has made me for birthdays and Christmases - I wonder if we are the last generation who will make mix tapes that can be given to others. iTunes allows you to share a playlist with others, but I think it then relies on them to purchase the songs, rather than allowing you to buy them as a gift.
My husband and I listened to a two-part series on Radio 4 about the demise of the music industry as we once knew it, reflecting on the time when things shifted from CDs to digital and the impact of services like Napster. Here's
part 1 and
part 2, if you'd like to listen. We found it really interesting, if quite sad.
It's been a surreal time as I've been totally absorbed in a project that I began at the end of last summer and the only days that I've really surfaced from it have been to race off to do something extraordinarily lovely, before diving straight back into it. I have really enjoyed the balance of intense work (which is mostly energising, rather than draining) and intense relaxation. A few weeks after our birthday weekend in London, I found myself popping over to Spain for a few days to spend some more time with my sister, only booking flights the day before I left.
We ate fennel and lemon salads; and also nuts (my sister's, always unadulterated 'woodland snacks'; mine, shameful salted peanuts, which we compromised on calling 'safari snacks' after I'd vetoed her derogatory suggestion of 'circus snacks'. It says that they are 'a natural source of protein and fibre' on the pack - she maintains that this is negated by roasting and salting. I'd welcome your own thoughts about salted peanuts); warmed our skin by the sea; rode carousel horses, just as we had done
in Paris seven years ago (although that time, my hair had not blown across my face to give a curious monobrow); sat talking for hours while I sewed; and watched films before falling asleep each night. It was a truly magical time.
London felt cold and wintry by comparison on the evening we arrived home, but the next day there was glorious sunshine and we launched straight into my son's birthday who has joined the ranks of teenager (thankfully not of the
Kevin variety, although I did show him the clip a few years ago and he was enamoured with Kevin's almost instant transformation), meaning that I now have not even a slightly small child left in the house. It's odd to think that he was only three when I started writing this blog. Speaking of teenagers, we watched
The Edge of Seventeen with our older daughter a few evenings ago. It's such a lovely film that's incredibly funny - it has had universally good reviews. Probably only suitable for slightly older teenagers as it's rated 15 and the content is quite adult at times.
In other thoughts: Easter. I hope you have a really lovely break. We are planning to see family and potter close to home. I hope whatever your plans are, they involve good things.
Florence x
