At our house lately, it's been all work, sleep and no play.
Ricardo the Magnificent has been poorly with a mystery illness that seems to be resisting diagnosis. It has us both quietly and inwardly worried and outwardly
falsely cheerful. Yesterday, there was no falseness to our
cheerfulness. My friend Louise had arrived from Australia via Paris and was making a tour of the Royal College of needlework at Hampton Court Palace. We didn't need any excuse to join her there for the tour.

It was THE most glorious day. Old
Blighty had turned on a rare gem and all the blossom and flowers had come out to meet us.

We had a picnic in the "Wilderness garden" (in inverted commas because there is no such thing as wilderness at Hampton Court).

We had just missed the daffodils but the tulips were incredible and the smell of Wallflowers was just like Chanel no 5 .

Louise and Ricardo bonded as I knew they would.

Louise is a fabulous textile artist and you must see her work
here and
here she also has a wicked sense of humour. Which meant that I couldn't look at her as we stood in the main room of the Royal School of
Needlework (
RSN) and listened to the volunteer talk about the history of the
RSN.
Endlessly talk about the history of the
RSN. It seemed like we stood there for hours while she dutifully followed her notes about who had been the patron when. At one stage I asked Ricardo in hushed tones if he was alright and did he need to sit down. He said 'I'm fine I'm just fighting the hugest yawn attack'. She rambled on and on and my mind sped out the window as it used to do at school, but instead of gum trees and kookaburras this is what I saw.

".....and in 1887
the RSN moved to blah. blah, blah....... who had one daughter, oh no I think it was actually two.....blah blah" It seems like the
RSN is desperate for money and if I had some I would give it to them if only to give their volunteers some training in 'Creating interest in your monologues'. Still we had a wonderful time afterwards rolling on the immaculate lawn and doing impressions of our poor unwitting volunteer.