With the local church-turned house bathed in a blue afternoon light, I’m reminded that
one of my dad’s friends (they were all fast-living deep-sea divers at a time when money and fun were taken for granted) once remarked that he liked any colour “as long as it was the blues”.
I used to think I liked any colour as long as it was blue; I’ve had blue denim bed covers, danish blue china, Medina and Bristol blue glass, blue walls. The only thing I’m not getting is a blue rinse, ever. (Way too pale to carry it off).
As I arrive home from my walk in the lane to pack for a short visit to my newest grandchild in Ireland, I’m prompted to go through my whole wardrobe and review it ruthlessly. It’s tempting to keep only the blues. Which would leave mostly blue jeans, and a rather natty pair of heels.
As with this design for a fabric I’m working on (image of butterfly taken recently at Traquair House).. everything, arguably, looks better in blue. Which is about as good an excuse as I can come up with for making that new blue-velvet evening dress. There’s a retro dance evening coming up – I might even be persuaded to don some blue suede shoes.
I will be dancing, not singing the blues.
For which you should all be truly thankful 🙂
Painting: “Dancer At The Bar” by Diana Moses Botkin