Frida Kahlo’s Flowers


You have to supply your own choice of music……. but, in other news, here is a slide show movie of many of the Frida Kahlo photos. She really doesn’t like Sweet William, but apart from that, she looks good with so many of the other flowers.


Let me know what music you suggest.

Waiting for Bag(ot)

Good things come to those who wait. Allegedly.

I am surprised to discover this is onIy old beer advertising schtick, and not some wise words of wisdom handed down over aeons by smart old women who know what’s what. That probably explains why waiting is the unpleasant, unfinished and dissatisfying experience it is.

I’m remembering Sister Gerard Majella. She was one of the music teachers at the grammar school I went to. She often had a ring of chalk on her lips, as she stood and whirled it in her mouth, repeating, “I’m waiting. I’m waiting.”, until such times as the large class of giddy teenage girls would eventually come to order. Sometimes this took a while. We had much to say. We often had distractions. For example, that particular room faced sideways on to a very green and beautiful scene of bushes and grass in the park next door. Flashers hung out there. So there were other things to look at too, however alarming and unasked for.

It’s a weird thing to wait. I am waiting for a bag I sent  by freight to France to be delivered. It was sent on the 8th October and was expected on the 15th. Today is the 29th.

To be fair, I left on the 17th to go back to Ireland for some things I had to do, and returned on the 27th, but the agreement was that it would then be delivered on the 28th. I would have thought that whatever the logistics were that needed to be ironed out, would have been by now: there was time to sort it, after all.

I am thinking of the things I have lost/ that are in that bag….. most of my clothes, some items of sentimental value – candles holders that were gifts from our wedding, the best, most valued linen napkins my husband gave me when we first met, precious notebooks, the external hard-drive of the computer, favourite boots, books I am gagging for.

The bag has been on an odyssey of its own. It was handed over to, via DHL, who have subsequently handed it over to someone else. The third party company claim not to have an address or phone number and are contactable only by email. This is not credible for me. Somehow, DHL and managed to hand it over to the mystery third party and managed to communicate with them to do so…….. but mysteriously, claim also that they don’t have contact details for them. It’s all a bit voodoo and a bit telepathic by all accounts…. and not very effective.

I am assured the bag will be delivered today, but I am not so certain that anyone believes that – not the polite people at They are polite, but unconvincing.

I could make up a story to imagine the adventure my stuff has had since I handed it over in Belfast, but I’m too grumpy  about it all for that.

From here, the sky of the Cote D’Azur is living fully up to its name.  I am stuck inside. I m not a music teacher, nor a nun. I don’t have a piece of chalk to suck on and there are no signs of flashers. Nor of my bag. I shall keep the people posted, should there be progress.