Wishing you all a very merry Christmas

“The mystery of human existence lies in not just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.”

– Fyodor Dostoyevsky

As I am saying goodbye to 2015, I would like to share what I have taken out of the turbulence and atrocities of this year. It is simplicity. The joys of a simple life. I have a busy life but it is the simple elements of the everyday that give me the greatest pleasure. The long Skype chat with my sister over mugs of coffee as if we were in the same room together, not on different continents. Or a quiet glass of wine under one of my ancient olive trees in Tuscany doing nothing… just nothing. The simple life puts things in perspective, helps us see the opportunities and provides the inspiration for better days. It is the way you look at life. Yesterday I chatted with an elderly lady as I was heading out for some Christmas shopping on the jammed streets of London. We were both staring at an overhanging tree of the most delicate, pink, cherry blossom. Below the tree was a bed of daffodils in full bloom. Not so remarkable, except for the fact that in a few days it will be January. It is so warm here in the UK that nature seems to think it is spring. “Global warming” I loudly exclaimed. “That’s right dear ” she said “ I’m going to pick a load of those free daffs and save me some pennies!” Such proof of the ‘glass is half empty…’ There is always a sunny side or silver lining and it usually is simple. A memory came to me as clear as the glass towers of central London towering above me. This image of long ago brought back feelings
of sadness and fear. I saw myself as a small five year-old girl crouched in a small, dank cupboard under the stairs of my school. It was only
my second day at Rochdale Convent, a junior school run by nuns. Later on in that first year I would come to realize that some of them were
kind, but many were unhappy and bitter and it took very little to enrage them. A chatty little girl was all it took to light the wick of their
fury. It guaranteed an explosion of words and forthcoming punishments. Sister Renata, or Sister Squashed Tomato as I soon gleefully nicknamed
her from her resemblance to this fruit. She seemed to have magical antenna that would constantly home in on me whether I was sitting at my
battered wooded desk enlightening some lad next to me with another of my adventures or perched on a wall helplessly giggling with my gang of

nobbly
-kneed girlfriends. She had the instinct of an excited hound as she

clipped
me around the head and laid out the punishment of the day. At this moment, on only my second day of my early school years, I found myself in
the broom cupboard under the gigantic Victorian staircase

of
this converted Victorian manor house. Once the tears dried up and my snotty face rubbed off on my purple school cardigan I remember distinctly
taking in my surroundings. In reality it was a musty cupboard filled with dank mops and buckets and brooms. My thoughts were not about bitterness
or revenge of this hateful nun, but on how romantic this ‘

den
’ lit by one hanging dusty light bulb could be. I remember thinking what a thrilling bedroom I could make out of it. It was so small I wouldn’t
have to share it with any of my annoying sisters

…
it would be all mine. I would paint it lavender and slide a mattress on the floor under the slanted ceiling. I would borrow my granny’s glass
chandelier that was so

sparkly
it could be in a princess’s ballroom. I would ask my daddy to install a shelf where I would keep special things that no one else, especially
my sisters, could touch. Even imprisoned in a cupboard under the stairs a little girl’s imagination can soar. Thinking back, perhaps this punishment
was my introduction to the world of design? There is always a sunny side or silver lining and it usually is simple.