This summer being what it is, sun filled and sun baked, I find absolute solace in being a sort of armchair traveler for once, delighting in the modern convenience of air conditioned luxury and caught up in reading this and that (mostly of the non-literary variety, although Wodehouse has popped his head in), watching all the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers films for the first time (absolutely wonderful they are too), and looking at books and on-line for information related to the cut of a jacket. That, and the upcoming trip to the UK and France, of course- but, as is my habit, I do not like to plan so much in advance. Thoughts turn to the long awaited and glorious end of summer and the triumphant return of the Autumn (yours truly's best season)
While pining for the autumn (not the fall), I thought I'd enclose this wistful portrait from the book Mr. Classic. There are many things that I can see in myself in this picture, and if you would like to join me in thinking about it, by all means do so.
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| of whom and of what does one dream/alone yet not but still |
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