Nancy nests

Monday, 9 September 2013


Oi! Palewski! Touch that fucking hazelnut torte and I'll brain you 
with this Louis VX Boulle Bracket timepiece.  
I couldn't give a shit if you're de Gaulle's bitch. Got it?

Never apologise, never explain.

I believe Nancy Mitford trilled this, or something similar, during a cinq à sept with her beloved Gaston Palewski.  I imagine she did so after a bout of red-eye-inducing sobbing, after she realised the bastard was going to continue riding her literary and social coat-tails without the slightest intention of making her his wife.  No doubt he pressed his pock-marked cheek to her hot damp one and strode off down Rue Monsieur without a backward glance as she drifted helplessly into the kitchen to try and solve how the infernal oven worked.

No wonder she looked so amazing and gaunt-chic in the New Look.

Unlike Nancy, I have an adoring husband with a soft cheek, its bristles now gently greying, who gives many a backward glance.  Usually to check that my well-used kitchen is not afire.  The blistering summer has mercifully ended; the bots, even taller and more generous than ever with their opinions, have gone back to school.

We live in a new house now.  Brand new, almost.  The first place I have ever called home that is under 100 years old.  I feared the silence of no ghosts, no whispers of experiences and the palimpsests left by friends and laughter.  I worried that regularity of walls and floorboards that met would be dull.

What was I thinking? Things work; they fit; the kitchen is almost wholly made of glass, with toasty underfloor heating and it is like living in a forest.  I have painted the floors white and the walls grey and I am contemplating learning Danish.

It has been a happy, productive, busy time since I last was here. I am writing and baking cakes.  It feels less like procrastination if the end result is a complicated triple-baked affair with fruit from the cliff tops
and a crumble topping.

Unlike Nancy, I am indolent with contentment.  But I will come back here now the autumn is creeping up the garden to touch the flavescent vines and rot the plump rust-streaked figs.  As the skies grow leaden and the rain bounces hard off the deck outside the still-open kitchen doors.  As the sharpening air carries a tang of smoke.

Like Nancy, I will not apologise for long absence caused by the beautiful unfurling of the days.

Unlike Nancy, I am in love with my life.


22 comments:

  1. Welcome back! Baking is always a good thing. I just spent the better part of a late summer vacation baking apple pie and scones (with currents, with dill, and with apples). Sounds like you can look forward to making your own ghosts, too. Best, HTJ.

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    1. The ghosts are still on holiday, long may they stay there!

      Scones with dill??? Yum! Garden adrift with fennel fronds - could I use those?

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  2. Glad you're back! Sounds like life is idealic. That's the way it should be.

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    1. So am I, and yes, it goes sweetly and gently. Thank you!

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  3. I'm so glad you're still around! Your writing is an inspiration.

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    1. Kathy!! I'm glad we both are! How are you? Do you remember the hilarious rum-soaked virtual holiday we had one Christmas? You made me laugh a lot. How have you been?

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    2. I do! I've not been blogging lately either. Just lurking around my favorite haunts, enjoying everybody else's productivity, blog-wise.

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  4. Welcome back. I was wondering where you'd gone off to1

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    1. Lovely lady, thank you for stoping by - always pleased to see your name pop up! I was rather wondering the same myself... Hope all is well in Pigtown.

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  5. Wow what a fabulous post! I love someone who is unapologetically happy and content! That just radiates good energy!
    Looking forward to your next post!
    Best
    Karolyn

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    1. Hello Karolyn, what a delightful thing to say - thank you. Yes, I suppose that's exactly how it feels. I must do this more often!

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  6. Welcome back! So glad you're happy and writing. The house sounds wonderful.

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    1. Thanks Linda! Yes, the writing may be the reason I'm happy, not sure yet! It's funny being a person in a modern house. I do feel like a different lady. The best bit is the sheer incredible volume of plugs! I am never more than an arm's reach from recharging, lamplight, coffee...

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  7. that is a fantastic post! may every day be happy, and fulfilling and filled just so.

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    1. Stephanie, that's a lovely spell to cast. I wish the same for you!

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  8. Perhaps sometimes the reason we "blog" is that something is missing. Sounds as though you may have found it.Bon chance with all the new.

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    1. Oh James, unerringly as always, you have busted me! I notice you were also MIA - I hope for the same reasons of absolute domestic bliss! How are those edible grandsons? xx

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  9. Zoots - how nice to read you again after a *mild* absence. You were missed, but all is forgiven given the happy and bunny rabbit contentment that exudes; (well not my Godson's sister's, which was eaten by the new cocker puppy yesterday). And you moved house, which always discombobulates. I shall look forward to a winter of contentment, with further readings.

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    1. That comment filled me with huge amusement, sorrow for the rabbit, delight at 'discombobulates' and just the tiniest sulphur whiff of guilt.

      Job done!

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  10. Darlin', You have been sorely missed! Your return is a beautifully wrapped present. Cheers to contentment.
    Lisa

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    1. Hello, and so have you dear lady! We need a virtual cuppa and catch-up. I gather some seismic changes at your end? I would like to offer my fondest congratulations and all the happiness in the world to you. xxxx

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  11. I am so glad to read your writing again! Thank you.

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Please leave a comment if you can be remotely bothered - anything you have to say is valuable and I absolutely love hearing from you all. Elizabeth