My favourite things: The Little Prince

Last night my boyfriend made the very perceptive comment that because I don't update this blog every day he falls out of the habit of reading it.

As an avid blog reader myself I do tend to follow the same reading pattern as him, namely if content isn't refreshed regularly then a blog will lose my interest.

With a full time office job and due to often being out in the evening, I do end up doing a lot of my blogging at the weekend which just isn't sensible in this world of daily (if not hourly) updating and ever changing content.

So this week I am challenging myself to update every day (from Tuesday). I won't be able to post pictures everyday and may not have time for a lot of writing so I thought in amongst my own writing I would share some of my favourite words in the world with you.

Words, and the power they have to evoke reaction and opinion and emotional responses, have always fascinated me. As much as I love photos and art and design, words will always be my first and greatest love.

To kick things off I have included my favourite section from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's "The Little Prince". Appallingly I have no words for how it makes me feel. Really, nothing compares.

---

It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."

"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . ."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.

"Please--tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . ."
The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . ."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.
And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

Good Morning

At this moment I am lying in the bed you see above. The builders began their work on the scaffolding outside my window at 8am this morning, ensuring I didn't get the much needed Saturday morning lie in I had been longing for.

This has been yet another odd week. My itchy feet are pushing me to make plans to go away and shake things up. But my love of security and fear of change (there, I said it) are keeping me from committing to anything.

All this is not helped by an almost entirely new team at work who are making me feel wizened and cynical; as if I don't really have a place there. I feel a bit like I'm being made to question why I'm staying. I know the answer, there is a huge amount of potential for change and it would be a complete waste of the last two years to leave at this point. But I know I am right when I see them wishing for an entirely new slate. It's an odd feeling to go from the person bursting with fresh ideas and grand plans to change the world to feeling like you're not being listened to and as if new and different is better than experience and insight. Surely both are good?

Must snap out of this indulgent mood for my weekend. I am going to pop down to the Cabbages and Frocks in Marylebone with Jo, have an exciting party to go to on a barge boat on the canal tonight (Can I wear high heels?) and tomorrow am going to try and watch my friend run the Royal Parks (if I can drag myself away from the only chance of a lie in this week - no building work on Sunday).

Now for coffee...and a strong word with myself.

PCOS

I am going to do some sharing today.

Or as they call it in my horrible, corporate office where every single word is given a complicated and uninterpretable label (talking and brainstorming = Strategic Thinking, going to the pub = Relationship Building) I am going to do some Knowledge Transfer.

I have a condition called Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (I wonder why it isn't called POS) and in the interest of using the internet for good not evil, and to give anyone else who has just learned they have PCOS an understanding of what it actually means, I am going to tell you what I know about it in my own words rather than Doctor speak.

PCOS apparently affects 5% of women, you will hear lots of other stats but this is the one I have seen regularly used.

I found out I had it when, at 25, I started bombarding my Doctor about cures for my extremely hormonal skin. I had terrible jawline acne, which is known to be hormonal, and after a prescription of Zineryt (which did a great job of getting rid of a really bad bout) I was sent for an ultrasound "just in case". One of the symptoms of PCOS is very bad acne which far outlasts the normal teenage spots most girls get.

As a result of these skins problems I have an almost encyclopedic knowledge of skin products, from high street to high end, and I will share my thoughts on this another time.

At the point of my ultrasound I was fully stocked up on knowledge of what this condition was, which celebrities have it (Victoria Beckham, Louise Redknapp and Jules Oliver) and what it could mean for me.

I didn't feel particularly nervous during the wait between ultrasound and results, and when it was confirmed I had PCOS I recall my first feeling being relief to have an explanation for why my skin had been so bad.

I was immediately put on a different pill (Yasmin) and I started taking B vitamins which were recommended in the book I bought (The Ultimate PCOS Handbook). I am not sure which ones did it, but my skin is now far improved. By no means perfect, but I rarely get breakouts in the aggressive way I did.

I also learned that PCOS sufferers are often obese or overweight, which I am not, and that they find it harder to lose weight than others, which I do. A GI diet is recommended, because it keeps your blood sugar level constant and reduces insulin production. "High insulin is a problem for women with PCOS, because insulin profoundly alters overall hormone balance, and causes your metabolism to go awry." obese Taken from here.

I have done the GI diet (or lifestyle programme as I think they call it) before and would certainly recommend it. Foods are rated by a traffic light system of red for BAD STAY AWAY, amber for Ok But Not Too Much and green for ALL YOU CAN EAT.

You can eat a lot of food (most vegetables are green light), can replace a lot of the bad stuff for good i.e. switching potatoes for sweet potatoes and white bread for wholemeal, and it does actually work.

I was told by my Doctor that they couldn't know how it would affect my fertility and I suspect it is the same for most people.

For some reason I don't feel worried which I know is dangerous to say aloud. I hope my warped mind isn't under the impression that just because the famous PCOS sufferers who I mentioned earlier have all had babies I will be able to, but I suspect it may be!

All the Doctor did say is that I should start thinking about conceiving sooner rather than later, which when I think of it now does scare me a little. I can't even see myself thinking about it until at least 30, the age my mother was when she even began to entertain the idea. The thought that I might need to get going (as it were) sooner, just in case, is not one that fills me with joy. Despite my happy relationship I do feel I would be acting out of fear I may not be able to conceive rather than desire to do so at the time.

PCOS is hereditary and I suspect my Auntie may also be a sufferer; she had the same symptoms as a young woman and has since battled with her weight. I imagine that 30 years ago they didn't even test for it, or perhaps it wasn't even widely known, but it is sad that she wasn't kitted with the same knowledge that I now am and therefore couldn't do so much about it.

I have read lots of quotes from women saying that PCOS takes away your feeling of femininity. I know some sufferers have excess facial hair, are obese, suffer terribly with acne and with the added question mark over whether you are fertile...well it is understandable that sufferers feel this way. For me I found it liberating, simply because I now know what my body needs me to do to keep it how I want it. So many women live trying this diet and that, struggling with different treatments for skin complaints and battling with weird and wonderful "miracle cures" for their personal body challenges.

As a PCOS sufferer at least I am able to turn away from the bombardment of products and quick fixes marketed to me every day. I now know what works for my skin (Yasmin Pill, B Complex vitamins, 2l water every day and a very simple beauty regime of Saaf cleanser and serum). I know how to lose weight (actually doing it is a different matter) and I know there is a reason for the peaks and troughs in my moods.

I may well be lucky because I don't have a lot of the symptoms I just mentioned, but equally I know they could be there, hovering behind me and waiting to pounce. In some ways that keeps me eating as well as I can and looking after myself a bit better than I otherwise might.

I hope some of this information was useful to you, any questions I will do my best to answer. I know there is a support group in London that I have the details of (although I have never been) and I am more than happy to share any other information I have found.

Hot hot heat

This weekend the temperature in London rose to 25c. So for now it is goodbye to 40 denier tights and thick cotton leggings and hello to sandals, bikinis and sarongs.

It was finally hot enough to wear my new Insight panda print dress and on Saturday morning I sat on the balcony and devoured half of The Amber Spyglass, (although I am now dreading the end as it means saying goodbye to Lyra and Iorek and Serafina and Will and Lee forever).

Saturday afternoon was spent on my dear friend Katy's roof terrace in Covent Garden where we barbecued burgers and forgot to brainstorm business ideas.

Saturday night was the BIG FINAL and although I was bitterly disappointed that my much loved Stavros Flatley (a father and son dance team who made mum and I laugh until we cried) didn't win, I was most impressed by the dancers who did.

Sunday; more barbecue, more sun and the growth of a deep sense of relaxation which caused me much distress when the alarm went off at 7am this morning.

Humble abode

As discussed here, I think the a person's home - in my case bedroom - can reveal an awful lot about them.  

I took these pictures yesterday, after a quick cleanup and once I had unpacked the enormous suitcase brought home from Devon a week ago. I have also included a slightly older picture of my dressing table with some flowers (in case you're confused by the magical disappearance of them in later pics). 

My bedroom window doesn't have a particularly exciting view, but I can see trees and greenery and on a Sunday morning I hear the church bells. That, for me, is happiness and when you consider that previous London views have included a granite covered garden, a wall, and a main road, I feel I have earned it. 

I am hugely lucky to live in a flat owned by a friend of my mums, who has incredible taste and some beautiful antique furniture.  None of the furniture is mine, but the 2 pictures on the walls and the art on the dresser is. 

The tree collage was made by my mum, it hangs above the fireplace in my room and reminds me of the countryside and towering trees of the woodland at the bottom of my garden in Devon. The print of the birds was bought on my recent trip to Edinburgh. The message on the print reads "Sleep, we will wake you up to a new day" and it appealed to the sleepaholic in me, as well as being just the right side of whimsical. The fabric bird that sits on my dresser was a gift from my beloved, I like how silly it is, I call her Flora and for now I use the picture frame to hang jewellery on.

 

I have also included a staged photo of a few of my favourite items including a ceramic brown and polka dot cookie jar which I use as a piggy bank, a red and gold jewellery box gifted by my best friend and bought in India and a small black box decorated with a frog which I use to store my rings.

 

I am fortunate to have a large wardrobe, meaning that for first time in my adult life I haven't had endless Ikea boxes filled with clothes stored under my bed. The bookshelves are also a great treat, and one of my next tasks is to organise my collection of books by colour. I know it's sad, but it looks so good.  

The fabric covered pin board was an ebay purchase which is now part mood board and part memory board. It is covered in notes from friends, photos of loved ones and images that I find especially gorgeous. It is also home to my two favourite images that capture cross animal love, Themba the Sheep and Albert the Elephant along with Rex the dog with his rescued joey.  This is something I shall come to another day. 

I could go on for hours about my bed, more precisely about the time and money that has gone into picking just the right duvet covers and sheets which make it my favourite place in the world. I find Muji a great place for good quality, simple and beautifully designed linen. The sale is always good and on several occasions I have found the pieces I have been coveting all season in the end of line sale. I change my bedding weekly and always, always iron sheets, duvet covers and pillow cases. 

I am sure many of you will think this is an utter waste of time, but for me the joy of getting into a perfectly made and creaseless bed is sublime. A little taste of high end, boutique, indulgent comfort in your own home. 

Dressing like a French Woman

Last night I found one of the resolution lists that litter the boxes. drawers and stowed away bags in my bedroom.

I have hundreds, all detailing the ways in which I will be a better, kinder, more elegant woman living a simple life without a focus on material things, yet one who dresses in the most stylish way and is always groomed to perfection (hmmm). These are generally made when I have a hangover, have chipped or chewed my fingernails to the quick and have done something horribly shameful the night before. As such I am counting down the seconds until home time, a chance to clear up the mess of the night before and going to bed to awaken to the new day - and my new self. 

Of course 3 nights later the same pattern repeats itself. I am painfully aware of the contrasting sides of my personality - one of which wants to live by the sea, grow vegetables, drink jasmine tea and be a teacher just like Miss Honey and the other who likes nothing more than a large glass of wine, making a spectacle of herself, shopping until she drops and dreams of running her own magazine. 

I digress, because the point of this post is that the one thing that is consistent across all these lists is the promise to myself that I will "learn to dress like a French woman", also known as "create a tailor made wardrobe of simple and classic pieces - inspired by Vanessa Paridis" or "Be more French".

I spend hours poring over pictures on Garance Dore and loved the interview that Joanna Goddard did with her, asking how she could add a French touch to her wardrobe. 

Although I have been honing my style as best as can I do seem to turn to one fail safe French look, that of the stripe. I think of Carrie standing in front of the Eiffel tower in her striped ensemble and I yearn to channel that look (I know that citing an American woman as an example is sacrilege but I care not). But being neither a size 6, or a yogi, the striped look just doesn't work for me. It took me a while to realise this, and I now have almost as many striped pieces as Garance Dore - 4 jumpers, 3 t-shirts and one pair of ill

-advised leggings. 

So it is that I turn to the striped bag, and on Friday when I arrived at Paddington Station to the sight of a board announcing every train was delayed I dived straight into the shops only to re-emerge with the slouchy Accessorise sailor bag which is just the right size for either day bag, beach bag or overnight carrier. I also like the Fora III featured on Etsy. 

For now I will stick with the sailor bag to add a touch of French to my wardrobe. And will channel this stylish lady, who does chic and simple without the stripe. 

I think the reality is that I must learn to find a happy balance between the 2 sides of my personality before I can dream of really emulating the mystique and elegance of a French woman. 

Because, in the words of the inimitable Garance Dore..

"The French woman is like Alain Delon**. The French woman doesn’t take any resolutions. The French woman is. The present is her sole religion. In fact, Joanna, the mystery behind the French woman is that she has confidence in herself, despite all the nonsense she says.

There’s the secret to her indestructible Frenchitude."

And I can't imagine the woman she describes making daily lists of how to change herself...so perhaps the first step shall be a happy acceptance of who I am.

Accessorize Stripey Sailor Rope Handle Slouch Bag

Fora III Everyday Purse from Etsy seller Bayan Hippo