It was a weekend of little joys. Nothing big: no travels; no life changes; just lots of small, familiar, quietly contented things.
On Friday night, I de-frosted some tomato & lentil soup, poured a glass of champagne, bundled myself into my pyjamas, and switched on An Affair to Remember. Oh, My. What a perfect Friday night.
I haven’t seen this movie in years. It was a childhood favourite, but watching it as an adult was a completely novel experience. When I was young, I liked what I saw as Pretty Gowns and Big Love and Melodrama. I still appreciate the gowns, but I now can see the love and melodrama through a whole new kaleidoscope: I can relate, in a way that I never could when I was younger, to the sacrifices, and grief, and sense of protection, and deep-seated care, between the characters. This is true both of the central love affair, but also of the relationships with the supporting characters: the grandmother, the former partners; every relationship in the film seems to be one of great nuance.
For the first time, I also appreciated that whilst Carey Grant and Deborah Kerr were both stunningly beautiful, neither they, nor their characters of Nickie Ferrante and Terry McCall were exactly young. In fact, Grant was in his 50s when An Affair to Remember was released. The gravitas of the relationship struck me. Ferrante and McCall were coming to their new love with old experiences, regrets, and lessons learned. They were doing their best to negotiate a new course, realising fully the magnitude of it.
I loved the witty language, the understated physicality (the first kiss between Ferrante and McCall is so stunning in its privacy), and the beauty of the scenery and props. It made me long for people to make movies like this again.
And then it was Saturday. Some yoga, cups of tea, finishing my book, and then a wander into town. A note: in just a few weeks, I must pack my European life into boxes and move it back across seas. I’m not, therefore, meant to be purchasing much.
So, small things. I bought some thimbles. I plan to put them on display in a printing drawer, along with other small curious from my last few years living in Europe. And I bought some handmade lace doilies, for a planned project (a quilt which features lace from across Europe):
So far, so good; only teensy purchases. Then it got tricky, with 50% off at my favourite clothing store, and a couple of little pretty purchases, like this one.
And then it got ridiculous, when I thought that this required a loving home:
But I couldn’t leave it in the shop. It is too beautiful, and it is handpainted in Italy. It must be wrapped in bubble-wrap and sent back home with me.
And then it was time for some Saturday afternoon baking: cupcakes for the girls, who came over later that evening.
There is nothing like a cupcake to make a Saturday more joyous.
And on Sunday? a brunch of quesadillas with home-made guacomole (after being inspired by this post in Ill Seen, Ill Said)
and leftover cupcakes; a facial/ massage; a new book being started; several cups of fresh mint tea; and going to see the incredible Pina at the cinema.
Perfect. Restorative. Joyful.