A French interlude

When Louise had gone to her own room I washed, changed into a white frock with a wide blue belt, and did my face and hair very slowly. It was still hot and the late sun’s rays fell obliquely across the balcony, through the half-opened shutter, in a shaft of copper-gold…

I sat down…and began to think about where I should go tomorrow.

From Madam, will you talk? by Mary Stewart, to accompany a short European jaunt of my own. Set in Provence, it has the same delicious anticipation of sun, luxury, cigarettes, wine and food as in Sybille Bedford’s postwar writing.

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