My poetic mood:
Little by little, the tears gathered.
From a world of dreams shattered
To form an ocean.
One more...
With all the love, I am blessed; everywhere I look
Who needs storage space and places to book
It accumulates in each corner of the world I turn to
Is it Harry, Antoinette? Could it be Renai or Sue?
The globe we live in is a funny place
The wars we create are only a disgrace
Why can't we simply live to be a clown
Don't let anything or anyone let us down
Go to the mountains, a sex show or just a giggle
Smile to God, to the people, make that ass wiggle
Talk nonsense, that's alright, not to be right all the time
What is life? Life without love is not worth a dime.
Then came ...
Laugh at yourself; trust me, you can be funny
It won't cost you anything; it's not all about money
Learning names to impress: Raphael, Monet and Dali
I need to get away; where's better than Bali
'My husband buys me diamonds and cars'. Does that make you happy?
And my model wife's lips will blow. You look like her pappy.
Everyone wants to be Saatchi with millions, and Nigelassima
Where shall we holiday, darling, Amazon, the moon or Lima?
Let your mind flow through your hair in the breeze of the night
Before you know it, the night is gone; here comes the light
Dark or bright outside don't matter; your soul must be lit
Bright with desire yearning, make sure you commit
Be naughty, cheeky, sunny and spread your wings
Life is not about your iPhone and all the pings.
No way... Shall I delete and check?
Oh No, let it be. What the heck.
And this is my contribution as we enter the world of the Arts.
It was a sunny Tuesday last when Ernest texted to see if I cared to join him at PAD, 'where collectors acquire museum quality pieces with a distinct history, eclecticism and connoisseurship with passion and flair'. And that was precisely what I experienced. Well, not buying personally but seeing familiar faces of friends and acquaintances, deep in a shopping mode. These mainly were ladies who lunched and used to spend time shopping for clothes and shoes in the past, and now, the salon was filled with familiar faces of elegant ladies spending their good fortune on fabulous furniture and pieces of art.
 |
| Interchangeable lighting through a screen |
 |
| Mirror Mirror on the wall. Aren't YOU the prettiest of them all? |
 | ||
| Infinity Table 2011. Dyed Sycamore, coloured lacquer |
 | |
| The delicately carved Vase |
 |
| The Love Light! Or so I called it. |
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| PAD at Berkeley Square |
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| Steam_12, 2010. Seat in Walnut. Carved to perfection |
I got to see other friends 'en passant'. I said a few hellos before we headed out with Ernest to attend a talk given at his friend Woody's suggestion by a brilliant young man, a charity entrepreneur named Jerry. The event was held at the magnificent building of Chatham House, where global critical analysis of talks takes place.
The thing with these super clever young beings is they speak their bright ideas so fast that it makes it impossible to follow sometimes.
Or is it me?!
Once the talk ended, Ernest and I grabbed a sushi at Wasabi before heading home.
Wednesday morning began with my trainer over for some significant stretching, then lunch with Doug and a chat over exchanging computer knowledge as he went through his blog and mentioned how he was encouraged to write it after reading mine. That's just great.
That evening was an artsy sit-down dinner at Aisha's, where Shane joined. I got talking to old friends before heading to the dinner tables, with an addition of a considerable number of unknown faces, soon to become known, and all the new dishes our hostess had, once again, miraculously presented. I was happy as even the salad at Aisha's tasted unique.
Thursday was the first day of the Frieze Art Fair at London's Regents Park. Aisha had arranged for Risha and me to pick up VIP tickets for the event and who would be there but Ernest, accompanied by the fast-moving-talkin super clever Woody. Once again, we walked through the crowds of art lovers, strolling up and down the exhibitors' stands and the pieces of modern works they represented. Again, here are a few that attracted extra attention or came out as better shots.
The thing with these super clever young beings is they speak their bright ideas so fast that it makes it impossible to follow sometimes.
Or is it me?!
Once the talk ended, Ernest and I grabbed a sushi at Wasabi before heading home.
Wednesday morning began with my trainer over for some significant stretching, then lunch with Doug and a chat over exchanging computer knowledge as he went through his blog and mentioned how he was encouraged to write it after reading mine. That's just great.
That evening was an artsy sit-down dinner at Aisha's, where Shane joined. I got talking to old friends before heading to the dinner tables, with an addition of a considerable number of unknown faces, soon to become known, and all the new dishes our hostess had, once again, miraculously presented. I was happy as even the salad at Aisha's tasted unique.
Thursday was the first day of the Frieze Art Fair at London's Regents Park. Aisha had arranged for Risha and me to pick up VIP tickets for the event and who would be there but Ernest, accompanied by the fast-moving-talkin super clever Woody. Once again, we walked through the crowds of art lovers, strolling up and down the exhibitors' stands and the pieces of modern works they represented. Again, here are a few that attracted extra attention or came out as better shots.
 |
| Entrance to Frieze Art Fair '12 in Regents Park |
 |
| Aaah! A bed of flowers. Where are the candles?! |
 |
| The last supper, or is it the first? With Michelin star chef |
 | |
| Gold or Silver? They look like men of knowledge. |
 | |||||||||||
| A Distinguished Lady, by hans-peter Feldman |
 |
| The hand which bashes with a stick ... Male. And the one who murders cold-blooded ... Female. Which one bears more guilt? |
 |
| Chilled in attitude but hot in colour |
The distinguished lady with the black eye represented the ladies of a specific background, whose husbands would provide them with the fur coat and the pearl necklace, with hands looking as fragile as though they had never touched a dirty dish, yet looking sad and obviously beaten up.
A woman in a gold cage. How did that make me reflect? Hearing Ernest's description of precisely what I was seeing made it more meaningful as to how many suffer that pain? Yet, stay on.
At the Frieze art fair, I learned something new about myself.
Ernest and I left Risha and Woody to participate in a survey act. We were each given instructions separately at a stand of 'the creation of a man' to play a role. Mine were:
And by now, damn. I have actually forgotten what I had learned about myself! I blame it on the anaesthesia during my surgery; my mum would have said, it's the pot.
Oh yes. Through this exercise, it dawned on me that I will only be flexible and act if a situation is to my liking, not the making of a great actress, but hey, a girl can't underestimate her priorities. What caught my attention about Foudi was not a sexual inclination to jump into bed with the guy, not at all; he was so softly spoken and polite; it would be good to make a new friend who is also interested in the arts and could be an excellent gallery-hopping friend.
I also got to see Thomas. The last meeting in Fabric was some years ago at the VIP table during Frieze. He quickly mentioned his birthday on the eve of Fabric's anniversary, which was coming up.
Then, I caught up briefly with Kenny, with whom we had experienced a fun night at Supperclub. He blamed my joint for losing his mind, and we always laughed at the experience.
What a socially fun place art can be!
Going around in our group of four and discussing the pieces on display, whether it was the expressions, colours, and writings that Ernest picked up and read to us or the irony in pieces where a child of five would come up with far better results as the ones displayed in plain.
My first experience at Frieze was one I will definitely repeat in years to come.
The rain was pouring hard outside the white tent of the fair, set amongst the park, and the only way to get home as Ernest and I bid farewell was to take the underground home. It is not something I usually do, so I was not expecting the train ride home to open up all my pores; it was like being in a sauna and taking coats off meant having to put them back on again when leaving, so I chose to sweat my way home.
Did I go to bed after a long day? Nope. I took the car and drove to Dylan's, where he fed me the best homemade vegetable soup he had prepared earlier. And getting into conversation with him, and Kerry was simply stupendous. It's incredible how the older friends become, the more we understand how the other ticks and enjoy their company merely for what it is, their offer of friendship in hearing you out and speaking their mind without fear of judgement.
Friday was my first pilates class since operation 2012! Perfect.
At night, after a chit-chat over a hairdo with Dez, we continued on to drinks with Kim at Jack's and a conversation about how the past few years since we had last spoken had flown by. The night ended at Heidi and Berto's as she celebrated her birthday and launched her new fur label simultaneously. Goodness, I met more lovely people there, and at Heidi's request, some of us girls went to another room to wear the fur coats and model for the guests in the living room. What did I choose to wear? The bridal fur with its matching headband, which I insisted on sporting, was undoubtedly white. As for the second round, Heidi noticed my choice of her most expensive mink coat.
"Of course, baby," Heidi told me. "Wouldn't expect anything else. You chose the most expensive coat from the collection."
A fun evening ended, and a super day began on Saturday with lunch at one of Princess Diana's old favourite restos: Daphnes, entouragée by Ernest, Daniel, Woody and Jerry, with a short soup-stop by Lola. Indeed, it was a gay lunch, happy in every way, with laughter and an exchange of wild stories. While some politics were being discussed at the beginning of lunch, I managed to update Daniel on some of my adventures waiting to happen.
Then came dinner at another old restaurant the Ex and I often visited when it opened a quarter of a century ago! Le Caprice Sounds ancient when the word century, even if a quarter, fits in, but that's how time disappears; make the most of it, or it will be gone. Baff! Beforehand, Sean had come to me to join Paulina, whom I had met in Hvar, Croatia, on a friend's yacht and chatted till the early morning hours. She was now visiting London with her sister, and the four of us had drinks at Jack's, followed by dinner at Le Caprice restaurant, which had barely changed. No Botox. haha
And Sunday came, the day of rest. Aisha offered to pick me up with Hessa to drive to the countryside again. This time, it was to visit Rossi at his new home set amongst a convent. The place was certainly one of a kind, as is our host, having organised a superb roast of beef with vegetables by his young chef, whose trifle dessert was so delicious, I demolished the layers of custard with fruit compote and jelly, plus the sponge cake at the bottom and a touch of liquor somewhere in between, before Aisha caught me red handed to tell me the desert with butter and custard was out of bounds for me! Ooopsy! It was gone. Nothing left in my cup, not even a crumb!
Monday was an early evening meeting with Doug. My one month of no exercise had been accomplished, and I was ready to break the fast in one of my latest baby pink transparent negligees from Victoria's Secret. After a build-up of fantasy talk and meetings of lunches and chatter, the time had come to put words into action. It is funny how the build-up to meeting someone can be far more exciting than the meeting itself. But for a relationship or even sexual encounters to grow deep, one has to allow time and effort, like a well-cooked meal that sizzles.
One thing I would like to add was meeting Antonia Harman at the beginning of last week, while she channelled yang energy into my being in a six-minute transfer while I simply lay on the bed. She added: "This is like putting energy as a disc into your hard drive. It was uploaded into my system, and apparently, I can channel it now onto others, treating emotional traumas and uncomplicated illnesses. She sweetly baked me a trout and served it with artichoke for lunch. Quite a treat.
A woman in a gold cage. How did that make me reflect? Hearing Ernest's description of precisely what I was seeing made it more meaningful as to how many suffer that pain? Yet, stay on.
At the Frieze art fair, I learned something new about myself.
Ernest and I left Risha and Woody to participate in a survey act. We were each given instructions separately at a stand of 'the creation of a man' to play a role. Mine were:
"You're
28. From a wealthy background, I never worked for a living. You were born
in New York. That's right." The instructor made all this up, and he
continued: "You're here to buy art. Also, you've been travelling worldwide and are desperately looking for a man ..."
I cut him out: "Really?! You were doing well there, then. Do I've to be looking for a man? And desperately?"
The man stopped me and said, "This is role play, and your name is Alda."
'Close,' I thought.
The
man said: "Basically, you're looking for a man who is
knowledgeable in art, who's good-looking and tall, to bear your child by. A
man who is kind and considerate."
Apart from the baring child bit, my thoughts were... The man is a fortune teller!
Apart from the baring child bit, my thoughts were... The man is a fortune teller!
The instructor then disappeared behind a screen and returned with a young-looking boy
who seemed rather shy. Oh no. Do I really have to play with this little boy, who was definitely not tall and had no presence?! And yet, I was so ready to get deep
into this perfect scene of acting my heart out. Now, I
was faced with an expressionless image of a blushing child with the slightest
interest and undoubtedly unable to act. Or perhaps it was me, like a deflating
balloon, finding no chemistry nor the will to work by; I quickly gave up on the role
and returned to my party. Plus, only a few minutes beforehand, I had (yet
again) bumped into a tall, dark, handsome stranger who stopped me, in
total surprise, to say we had met through a mutual friend. His
name, Foudi, was unusual, and he spoke most gently. I could
not remember meeting this model-like stranger before, perhaps only
briefly. So, I told him:
"Seriously?!" I began, "Since a surgery I recently had, what was left of my short-term memory is now completely gone to zilch." As my palms touched in a clap to express
the words. "And to think that I can't remember meeting such a gorgeous
man as you are unforgivable to me."
Foudi
smiled and thanked me politely for the compliment. But God, it was
true. Then I left in a hurry, telling him we must connect through the
mutual friends. Lunch with my Arty buddies, watching my interaction with the stranger from afar, was waiting at the HIX
restaurant towards the end of the vast tent.
Risha, Ernest, and Woody were amazed at letting such a tall, dark and h and man get away so fast!
Risha said: "Haldita! The guy noticed you from behind. I was watching him, and he was so good-looking."
The boys were in agreement. They looked at me in a questioning state: "So,
unlike you," Ernest noted. "You let him go just like that."
My face must have borne the look of horror as I realised that even his name, which I had asked at least twice, was lost in my mind.
He was probably married or taken.
What is meant to be happens; if it does not occur, it was not meant to be.
Now, if the role-play instructor had returned with a Foudi look-alike, boy, would I have given it my best shot, a performance good enough for the Oscars. But a lame choice meant no show from me. I let the poor boy loose, out of his misery.
He was probably married or taken.
What is meant to be happens; if it does not occur, it was not meant to be.
Now, if the role-play instructor had returned with a Foudi look-alike, boy, would I have given it my best shot, a performance good enough for the Oscars. But a lame choice meant no show from me. I let the poor boy loose, out of his misery.
And by now, damn. I have actually forgotten what I had learned about myself! I blame it on the anaesthesia during my surgery; my mum would have said, it's the pot.
Oh yes. Through this exercise, it dawned on me that I will only be flexible and act if a situation is to my liking, not the making of a great actress, but hey, a girl can't underestimate her priorities. What caught my attention about Foudi was not a sexual inclination to jump into bed with the guy, not at all; he was so softly spoken and polite; it would be good to make a new friend who is also interested in the arts and could be an excellent gallery-hopping friend.
I also got to see Thomas. The last meeting in Fabric was some years ago at the VIP table during Frieze. He quickly mentioned his birthday on the eve of Fabric's anniversary, which was coming up.
Then, I caught up briefly with Kenny, with whom we had experienced a fun night at Supperclub. He blamed my joint for losing his mind, and we always laughed at the experience.
What a socially fun place art can be!
Going around in our group of four and discussing the pieces on display, whether it was the expressions, colours, and writings that Ernest picked up and read to us or the irony in pieces where a child of five would come up with far better results as the ones displayed in plain.
My first experience at Frieze was one I will definitely repeat in years to come.
The rain was pouring hard outside the white tent of the fair, set amongst the park, and the only way to get home as Ernest and I bid farewell was to take the underground home. It is not something I usually do, so I was not expecting the train ride home to open up all my pores; it was like being in a sauna and taking coats off meant having to put them back on again when leaving, so I chose to sweat my way home.
Did I go to bed after a long day? Nope. I took the car and drove to Dylan's, where he fed me the best homemade vegetable soup he had prepared earlier. And getting into conversation with him, and Kerry was simply stupendous. It's incredible how the older friends become, the more we understand how the other ticks and enjoy their company merely for what it is, their offer of friendship in hearing you out and speaking their mind without fear of judgement.
Friday was my first pilates class since operation 2012! Perfect.
At night, after a chit-chat over a hairdo with Dez, we continued on to drinks with Kim at Jack's and a conversation about how the past few years since we had last spoken had flown by. The night ended at Heidi and Berto's as she celebrated her birthday and launched her new fur label simultaneously. Goodness, I met more lovely people there, and at Heidi's request, some of us girls went to another room to wear the fur coats and model for the guests in the living room. What did I choose to wear? The bridal fur with its matching headband, which I insisted on sporting, was undoubtedly white. As for the second round, Heidi noticed my choice of her most expensive mink coat.
"Of course, baby," Heidi told me. "Wouldn't expect anything else. You chose the most expensive coat from the collection."
A fun evening ended, and a super day began on Saturday with lunch at one of Princess Diana's old favourite restos: Daphnes, entouragée by Ernest, Daniel, Woody and Jerry, with a short soup-stop by Lola. Indeed, it was a gay lunch, happy in every way, with laughter and an exchange of wild stories. While some politics were being discussed at the beginning of lunch, I managed to update Daniel on some of my adventures waiting to happen.
Then came dinner at another old restaurant the Ex and I often visited when it opened a quarter of a century ago! Le Caprice Sounds ancient when the word century, even if a quarter, fits in, but that's how time disappears; make the most of it, or it will be gone. Baff! Beforehand, Sean had come to me to join Paulina, whom I had met in Hvar, Croatia, on a friend's yacht and chatted till the early morning hours. She was now visiting London with her sister, and the four of us had drinks at Jack's, followed by dinner at Le Caprice restaurant, which had barely changed. No Botox. haha
And Sunday came, the day of rest. Aisha offered to pick me up with Hessa to drive to the countryside again. This time, it was to visit Rossi at his new home set amongst a convent. The place was certainly one of a kind, as is our host, having organised a superb roast of beef with vegetables by his young chef, whose trifle dessert was so delicious, I demolished the layers of custard with fruit compote and jelly, plus the sponge cake at the bottom and a touch of liquor somewhere in between, before Aisha caught me red handed to tell me the desert with butter and custard was out of bounds for me! Ooopsy! It was gone. Nothing left in my cup, not even a crumb!
Monday was an early evening meeting with Doug. My one month of no exercise had been accomplished, and I was ready to break the fast in one of my latest baby pink transparent negligees from Victoria's Secret. After a build-up of fantasy talk and meetings of lunches and chatter, the time had come to put words into action. It is funny how the build-up to meeting someone can be far more exciting than the meeting itself. But for a relationship or even sexual encounters to grow deep, one has to allow time and effort, like a well-cooked meal that sizzles.
One thing I would like to add was meeting Antonia Harman at the beginning of last week, while she channelled yang energy into my being in a six-minute transfer while I simply lay on the bed. She added: "This is like putting energy as a disc into your hard drive. It was uploaded into my system, and apparently, I can channel it now onto others, treating emotional traumas and uncomplicated illnesses. She sweetly baked me a trout and served it with artichoke for lunch. Quite a treat.
And what awaits for the rest of this week? It is a trip to the wonders of Paris.
Bon Voyage et bonsoir mes amis.
Have a safe trip, and goodnight, my friends.
Have a safe trip, and goodnight, my friends.
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