French Boy and I have had a number of interesting adventures/dramas/scenarios in our relationship thus far, and many of these adventured/dramas/scenarios often have something to do with Paris. I think we will not be short of paris-themed stories to share with the grandkids, for instance.

One scenario comes to mind regularly, and still manages to crack me up. I thought it about time I share it with you.

It was when we went to Paris last year to photograph all the ateliers and interview the artisans for the book. French Boy had fabulously offered to be my assistant for the whole trip, and we were really looking forward to it even though I was secretly anxious about it, being my first book and all. After getting the numerous and very heavy backpacks on our backs, we finally made it out the door and trudged along to the tram stop. We looked at each other with relief to be on our way for this exciting adventure together, and we smiled at each other.

The next few moments went something like this:

Pia: Gees, I hope we didn’t forget anything.

FB, with twinkle in his eye and a smile that could melt an iceberg: We’re fine! We are off to Parrree!! As long as we have food and shelter we are set.

Pia: Well not really, if we don’t have the camera we are f#$%ed.

FB, smile turned to upsidedown-French-frown: You have it, right?

Pia: what are you talking about, YOU have it, don’t you?

Tram arrives. People getting on.

FB, twinkle gone, face white, enter latin drama , stage one: What? What!? What are you TALKING about?

Pia: I left it on the bed next to the bag for you to pack!

FB: I thought the camera was YOUR duty! It’s YOUR camera. I thought YOU were in charge of it?

Pia: What are you TALKING about?

FB: oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.

I have already internally thanked my lucky stars that we had this incredibly serendipitous conversation before we’d left the vicinity of the city, and with plenty of time to get the next tram to get to the train to Paris. But before I can externalize my internal dialogue, French Boy’s bag flies off his back and he bolts across the road, running like a mad man back to le petit bateau. I can’t help but laugh at his dramatic and panic stricken exit (latin drama , stage two) and I try to yell out after him “PLEASE, don’t panic!”.

When he arrived back to the tram stop with camera in hand, the twinkle was back in his eyes, his smile was wide and we both broke out in hysteric laughter. Because seriously, if we had have forgotten the camera on that particular trip, we would have been f#$%ed.

Well folks, after carting that cardboard creation across Northern Europe, I’m beat.

Thankfully it’s Friday and I think, for the first time in I don’t know how many weekends I am going to put my hand up and ‘just say no’. I am going to strive for a work-free weekend. I know, I know, there will be repercussions come Monday. But, I need the break. And also, I’m thinking “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” or in this case, the Northern Europeans – the Amsterdammers (and Parisians)(not to mention Italians) seem to just disappear for weeks on end in August – they shut up their shops, they leave their work, they leave all their responsibilities and just declare vacation. It’s something I find rather peculiar since these are two international cities but you know, whatever…

I will not be following suit and declaring vacation unfortunately as I have alot on and next week will be a killer, BUT, I think a work-free weekend is in order. What do you think?

Shall I don my summer dresses? Get out my straw hat? Put paper umbrellas in my ice tea and put my feet up?

I will still have to clean, sort, and tidy though as I have completely neglected my household duties over the last few weeks and the boat is unsightly, and barely livable.

Next week I want to tell you what I got up to in Paris each day I was there. I took lots of photos… some I will share here, some I will save for an upcoming project. I also bought something that I have been dying to show you, it’s been so inspiring for me.

I wonder what you will be doing this weekend? Any plans? Whatever you get up to mes chers amis, have a beautiful weekend.

xx

…the perfect way to start a monday morning, non? The jams were made from the fruits of French Boy’s childhood garden – cerises, abricots, and griottes. His mother made them and brought them with her on her recent visit.

This morning, while French Boy and I spooned mouthfuls onto our toast, he told me stories about his childhood garden, with trees full of cherries, plums, figs and apples. I would scarcely believe him if I hadn’t already seen the garden many times with my own eyes. It is magical to me, a world so different to my own. Like a secret garden.

I wonder if I might make a garden like this of my own one day. I dream of it often.

I made this spontaneous little love letter for you know who and then framed it. He adores it, and as soon as he saw it he said “oh, this reminds me of Harriet“. I thought that was sweet and I asked, “Do you miss Harriet?” and he said oui. I miss her too. Perhaps she will come out to play again sometime. I know she is waiting for me to be not so busy, then she will come to visit us again. She’s very thoughtful that way.

in case you can’t see this far away it says “je t’aime”. The words are sewn on a scrap bit of brown wrapping paper…

It’s Friday afternoon, the sun is out, and as I sit here working at my desk on le petit bateau, I am listening to the soft lapping of the water outside my window made from passing paddleboaters. The weekend beckons.

I’m also listening to some piano that I recorded earlier today – as my facebook readers know, I have been heavily distracted today – pottering around instead of getting into my work, and recording new piano pieces instead of doing what I’m supposed to be doing. But, I’ve learnt, this is how I work. My schedule is only a guideline, and rules are meant to be broken. Lists are not boundaries, and everything is for a reason, no matter how inconsequential, or distractive, it seems at the time. I’m at peace with my way of creating things nowadays. Years ago I would berate myself for not following guidelines to their exactness, but I can’t say I was more productive when I did. So these days, I let things flow – through, up, over and under – confident that I will get my tasks done, no matter what, all in good time.

Have a thoughtful, inspiring weekend, mes chers amis. Enjoy every moment, and I will too.

xx

mrs. french, via her recent post on sfgirlbybay, reminded me how much I love the work of cig harvey by posting the above photograph. bliss indeed.

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I’m very excited about the weather lately. Others may be complaining about the ‘heatwave’ but I could not be merrier. I nearly choked on my vegemite toast this morning when I heard the BBC warning viewers about the current heatwave in the UK… “temperatures could reach up to 30C” announced the newsreader.

Um, where I come from that’s called “summer”.

So needless to say I’m soaking in this sunshine like there’s no tomorrow. Amsterdam glistens when the sun shines. I would go so far to say that it’s the happiest city in the world when the sun is out. People’s smiles are broader, there is a spring in their every step, and life just feels like it could not get any better.

This is my third ‘summer’ for this particular european stint I’m on, but it is really only the first as the preceding two summers were ridiculous versions of the season. Last year I was in Sydney in August you may recall, and considering that is the peak of winter, it was by FAR hotter than the summer here in Europe. But that was last year! As we know life is all about the here. and. now.

self-portrait, sitting at mona vale beach in sydney, australia.

When the weather is this warm, I am more Australian than ever. I find myself listening to midnight oil. and craving a glass of ice cold milo. I walk easier in my light summer dresses, and my feet are so happy to be carefree.

Most of all, when the weather is this beautiful, I crave water. I crave jumping off the jetty back home, getting splashed (or bashed) by waves, letting my feet play at the water’s edge.

a favourite photograph from this post.

Oh yes. I’m a happy girl when the sun is out. I know you’ve heard me say it again and again. and again.