Bijou Residence

Somewhere in this book a contented Phryne Fisher makes reference to her  'bijou residence'.  It immediately struck a chord.  A home where everything is a treasure, a gift, a memory.  A feeling of ease and completion.  And that's what I have.

I'm not pretending these chaps are part of my world but there is a man who cycles past in the mornings and evenings, probably to and fro the ferry.  Unlike the racy types who hurtle by, he sits upright and peddles rhythmically.  I can imagine onions hanging from the handlebars.  Something Gallic about him.

Starting with this just over a year ago, I now have everything I want.*

There have been incremental changes that perhaps only I can see.

Bronchitis / pneumonia has laid me low for over a week now and I have had plenty of time to savour mes bijoux.

I have spent a lot of time on the 'was to be discarded' blue couch:  reading,

looking behind to the kitchen,

looking to the side

and looking ahead

These small joys have been around for a long time:

a plate Helly gave me years ago

a summer cocktail in the solarium

relaxing in the solarium

a Georgia bowl and grapes from her garden

cooking Judy's quinces

Secret night time treasures too.

Very happy.

* well, Georgia's basin is still awaiting its stand in the bathroom...