It's just on fire tonight, can't stop whittering. This is my seventh post in TWO days. I'll calm down soon, I promise. But before that, some reflections on memories and kitties. Tonight I wrote some reviews for perfume. Perfume is so hard to write about - it's just really evocative and hard to describe. My mother always says my sense of smell is the cross I have to bare - I have a ridiculously good sense of smell, a blessing and a curse! If everything goes tits up maybe I can be a wine connoisseur and get tiddly all the time? I digress.... I still have the last bottle of perfume my dearest Nana owned. Chanel Allure. When she passed away, I foolishly used it all up because I missed her smell so much. She was the kind of woman who wore pearls to get on the bus and go shopping. She'd post me a fiver each week sellotaped to a piece of card and on the back of the envelope she'd draw some crazy bee wearing boots. She hated other people. She called cats sods and would have hated my little darling Niamh. She knitted my mum her school uniform. When she wasn't wearing contacts, she wore huge glasses that made her eyes look wombatish. She'd buy me rice crackers and then eat some of them before giving them to me. When I was clearing out her flat, I found a 'Congratulations on passing your driving test' card, already written and signed by her, that she'd stowed away... when she passed away, I'd only had a few lessons and was months away from passing, but she had so much faith in me that I'd pass first time. I can't describe the perfume in any other way than describing the woman who wore it. What a hell of a lot of memories.
Image is of my little Niamh
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