Finally the ribbons have come back! These were such a fixture of Avery’s room in New York, proudly added to each weekend upon returning from a show. But they’ve spent the last four months crowded on a bulletin board stuffed in a corner of the never-frequented guest room, a low priority compared to figuring out bookshelves, clothing storage, how to keep Wimsey from using her pillow as a second litter box. Then yesterday John, in a desperate bid to keep life worth living even if he couldn’t go to India, had the brainwave that if we strung a nice ribbon around her bedposts, it would give her a place to display her beloved “rosettes,” as they’re known here. And did you know that in England, red is first place? Neither did I. So yesterday while John and Avery were munching on a “gourmandise” from Paul Patisserie in the High Street (it’s a custardy version of pain au chocolat, if you can imagine the indulgence), I was at Les Rouleaux across the road, a shop devoted entirely to… ribbons. Of every description you can possibly imagine. Oh, there’s the occasional pom-pom or bit of velvet roping, but mostly it’s ribbons as far as the eye can see. A favorite haunt of Avery’s, even though anything but plain green is verboten at King’s College. I bought what I thought would be a bit too much red ribbon, having estimated how much was needed by getting John to test the bed length against his considerable wingspan. (What a treat to have him around for pickup, I must say, as well.)
At home I strung the ribbon along and while I cooked dinner Avery arranged her rosettes, in a complex order of event, importance of event, level of achievement, etc. Plus on each side she hung one of her birthday party favor rosettes that says “Avery’s 9th Birthday Party, NYC 2005″. John thought it so funny that she arranged them facing in, toward her! “Well,” she defended herself, “it gets really boring in bed, trying to get to sleep. Now I have something to look at.” So cosy! I love this picture because you can see all the things that make her room her room: all the books, dolls, horsey figures, and a view of the garden. Plus if you look closely, a Tacy facey down low.
Wimsey survived his visit to the Hyde Park Veterinary Clinic quite well and it’s been determined that along with the whatever wafting out of the electrical outlets, he also needs, dare I say it, kitty prozac. Well, try stuffing a pill down this manic cat’s throat. It didn’t happen yesterday and I can’t imagine it will happen today. But he seems better with the plug-ins, so we’ll hope for the best.
Today I shall meet up with Avery’s class at the Queensway Skating Centre, because apparently if I do, she can stay afterwards and skate more. It turns out that Ava and Clio have been doing this all year and I never knew. Or Avery never cared until today. But it will make a little change of pace and I’ll see if I can get a good picture of the three girls.Print This Post
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