I’ve read that personalities can be divided into two camps – cowboys and farmers. The cowboys are the restless ones, always roaming and seeking new pastures whilst the farmers solidly plough the same field over and over again. Our ski holiday embraced everything cowboy: Constantly on the go, incredible scenery, crisp air, the smell of wood smoke, peace (piste…and pissed as well) as well as a true sense of wonder.
A fusion of manmade and natural – an icicle chandelier.
We were in La Rosiere on the French side of the Aosta valley, ski-able into Italy. And by all accounts, were lucky to have snow.
They were using snow cannons when we first arrived, but as the runs were in full sun it still made for great conditions. And then it snowed.
I’ve never seen this before – three rainbows, one on top of the other, made by the sun refracting through ice crystals in the air.
It always amazes me how slopes look flat in pictures!
We decided Charlie is really a secret snowboarder!
And what did I wear?? John’s old two-piece from the eighties! Maybe not quite pure vintage swagger, but on a ski slope..the joy is no-one cares!
And now I suppose it’s time to return to farming…and wrestling with the Einstein quote that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
The silver lining is our holiday proved that perfectly decent wheels can aways be reinvented..
Laters, Kate x
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…
Looking at a beautiful floor lets me breathe..it’s like visual porn for the mind’s eye. The best are not glossy, gossip columns but tell a story, wearing their battle scars with pride and an undeniable polishing of age. My ultimate joys are marbled mosaic floors as found in St Pauls Cathedral, the Victorian tessellated floors like those found here in the UK and possibly my favourites: Encaustic cement floor tiles from places such as Cuba, France and Italy..the artisanal flair, patterns and colours are literally chocolate for my soul. I can understand if people find them ‘too seventies’ or too dominant…..but come into my world…see if I can change your mind..
And a true font of knowledge and know-how is an amazing website called Villa Lagoon Tiles based in the States where all the pictures on this post came from. They collect pictures and information and best of all, make these tiles. Go loose yourself in their website..the options and designs are both endless and fascinating..I was lucky enough to order tiles from them for our bathrooms..but I still head back whenever I need a creative fix to see what new ideas they have come up with.They can copy old tiles or you can choose from their classics range..the following are from their Cuban heritage section. I literally die.
Laters, Kate x