flying high

i didn’t notice her straight away. she hung right in front of the bargain shop window , a bit like a straight curtain, i never made the assumption. then that languishing face threw me. only when i got home, i noticed the tigress. talking ‘bout stages of noticing, and did the needler really endlessly repeat that orange-white-black colour code? i'll have to cut the lady up, of course, though bell may protest. the reason why i almost missed the gobelin lady, was this fabric.

i think it’s safe to call the colour poisonous. is the rough quality evoking something irresistible from the past, like quickly drying off the body after a skinny dip? is it rattling a bone or two, tickling my fancy perhaps? i don’t know, but something good will come of this, i'm sure.

last but not least and for your eyes only, i’m throwing into the bargain a wonderful montgolfiere, or rather a handsome little fellow of an exhibition booklet, from the late seventies, of which i'm showing off the cover here. i’ve long been absolutely scared of hot air balloons, until one flew over so close i got over it, there and then. would love to see the world from up there, but ha, dearies! the challenge….

.... anyone ever been ballooning? How was that? [more treasure hunting on library adventures]