I’ve just gone through the flat closing all the windows including the secondary glazing. The windows that when opened throughout gave us some respite from the extreme temperatures in London over the last two weeks now need to be sealed up against what feels like, comparatively, an impending frost.
I’ve returned here after a brief sojourn, as the Weather Tart. Reporting as usual on weather that has been, I’m not the predictive type of weather commentator. I’m the moaning type. I’ve lived on this island for many decades and the weather is still a total shocker to me almost daily.
In brief; it was too hot, now it’s too cold, too windy.
The state of the world’s political shenanigans has not improved. I hope that someone has hidden THE button from the tantrum prone trump.
A couple of weeks ago, on the tube home from work, I met a young tommy robinson (or whatever name he’s currently using) fan. It was after a Saturday flag shaggers convention in London. He was drunk, with his mates, I assume looking for somewhere to continue drinking. Coming up from the platform and out of the station he asked me where they were, I told him. He said his name was Ryan and he was very anxious. He said he thought I was nice and could he hold my hand. Ryan the epitome of a lost, anxious, rightwing youth.
It was funny. I was sad.
My head is feeling much less likely to explode at the moment due in part to distracting myself with frippery. I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating and searching for the perfect white shirt. Having acquired one, one did not seem enough. I believe I have found the two most perfect white shirts available and I’ve rehomed one of Cornflakes white shirts on my side of the wardrobe . I swing between, Cult Tart, all in white, Executive Tart, black and white with flat shoes, and Chic Tart, a look adjacent to the executive but with heels and jewellery. I have, I believe, avoided the Mad Old Tart wandering about in her nightdress option. I’m confident that should the end of the world happen soon I will be nicely, if not appropriately dressed for the occasion.
I feel at peace.
I’ve also been entertaining myself in ways other than shopping. I went to see a musical. I know, an unlikely state of affairs. The music was 60’s and 70’s reggae and it has reignited my teenage love of ska. It might have given me a funny walk recently, it’s hard to walk straight with a head full of Shanty Town, Al Capone and the Israelites.
Madness.
Earlier today I did my second visit to the Schiaparelli exhibition. It’s very fabulous and I highly recommend it. I repeat visit exhibitions like I repeat watch movies. Each visit is different because each visit I see different things, perhaps each time I’m a bit different, a different mood, a different state of mind. Today GorJus and I were loving it all when I wandered off and got intimidated by a portrait. As I looked at this immaculate woman I felt I really needed to put my lipstick on or be judged lacking. So I did. She takes black and white beyond me. Aristo Tart.
fat tart 