I’ve been all over the place of late. I know I swore that this year I wouldn’t do travelling like I have done for the past two years, but that lasted for all of three weeks, when I hopped it to Paris on the Eurostar for couture at the end of January. Since then I’ve been to New York to speak at a conference, frozen in Moscow, melted in Singapore, been hungover in Milan, eaten my bodyweight in Florence, and shopped for England in Barcelona.
I’m now deciding how to spend the rest of the summer. If it ever bloody starts. (Look, if you are reading this in New York, I know you are currently wilting in the humidity, but here in London people are still wearing tights. TIGHTS in July.) I received a bit of a curve ball when the lovely people in whose basement hobbit hole I currently reside decided to turn their lives upside down, move cities & rent the whole house out, so I need to find a new place to live by the first of September. Along with that upheaval, the LLG family home has finally sold after a year on the market. I’m coping by focusing on more exciting things. (It’s no wonder I travel so much when everything is so topsy turvey at home.)
So far I know I’m going to the polo on Sunday, to the magical Gifford’s Circus on an overnighter with Em next week, and then taking the last week in July to just hang out with my mother at the family house in the country and be sad/happy things are finally done. I’m then contemplating a drive down through France in my little soft top motor to the Vienne to stay with a family I adore beyond measure (you may remember that last year I took the train down there and basically ate cheese, wrote under a tree like a fiend, baked cakes and photographed the infant Lily.)
Then there’s a three day bolt to Sweden in the second week of August for my first ever Stockholm Fashion Week, then straight back for a road trip in the little car with lil’sis & P Bad as we wend our way up & through the North York Moors on our way to the highly anticipated cathedral wedding of one of our oldest schoolfriends, now an LA rock star transplant, but once a Durham Cathedral chorister.
We will drive slowly back down through the Pennines and the Peak District to arrive at our mother’s to spend the next week getting underfoot with the removal men and helping settle her into her new home, just three miles down the road.
And then my diary is completely, utterly empty until September. Although I suspect I will then be moving my own possessions into wherever I have found to live. Gah. I really had hoped that I was done with the packing and unpacking of my stuff for a while. I can tell you one thing: wherever I move to next is going to be where I stay put for a long, long while.
Well, until I jump on a plane in October to spend a month in New York, that is.
Photo: Barcelona last weekend