When I was a young broke student, Mum would visit me in Melbourne and stay at the Victoria Hotel. We’d sleep side-by-side in twin beds. I’d be on my Sony Walkman, she’d be softly snoring. Mum made lots of sounds. Her tinkly laugh, her posh phone voice, her inhale of air followed by a low whisper when I was in trouble. She sang, she hummed, she left loving voice messages I wish I’d kept. At the end, when she was non-verbal, she made clip-clop sounds with her teeth and a kind of whinny, like a pony. I walked past the Victoria Hotel by accident last night and it looked the same, but different. Happy Mother’s Day x
Last week I wafted around Umbria pretending I was a certified floraphile. Taking time out for nothing but beauty is such a rare treat! Huge thank you to @vicki.roycroft@lucytheflowerhunter@danu_sf@helenbankers for being such masterful hosts. Here’s to flower arranging in a thunderstorm, dining with foxes, stashing wine bottles in a tote bag (for later), impromptu drunken speeches, emotional sendoffs and wet knickers drying in the window (IYKYK). See you all next year in 🇫🇷
Followed this sister through midday mass, past confession, down a corridor and into the sacristy aka the room where the priests hang their dresses. Simultaneously, Roma Pride was happening on the streets outside 🌈
