The weather in the UK has yet to settle down. The majority of the hurrying figures I saw this morning on my way to school were wearing thick tights and scarfs, held tight against the wind. Give it two hours, the sun could be shining and all those layers will peel off in the time it takes for a corn kernel to pop in a hot pan. It’s confusing and disappointing and makes me dream of consistent kingfisher blue skies, warm, heavy air and the compelling rasp of cicadas.
If I won the lottery tomorrow, I’d head straight to Christophe Sauvat and fill my battered leather backpack with all his summer wonders…summer dresses to float in..
Summer tops to laugh in (a glass of rose in one hand, a good book in another…)
And shoes to die for.
We’d pile into the car, fill the petrol tank to brimming and head for the coast…
And keep driving to the sun..through France, stopping wherever to indulge in gastronomic delights to tantalise the tastebuds..or just to admire the view.
Then on to Italy, to visit friends and wrap them up with us in our hedonistic cloud..nostalgic for the past..loving the present.
Before heading to Greece, to pitch a tent and live a completely free few months, brown, barefoot and under the stars, knowing that the best things in life are the simplest.
A girl can dream…