Shades of Purple, by Caprilicious

Hello and good day, people, hope you're all doing just fine today. This week has had some of the best news I've heard in a long time with Naznin Zaghari-Radcliffe being released and back with her family. In the middle of all the terrible news from the Ukraine, this was like a little ray of sunshine. 

I thought I'd start with something simple but pretty this year. I have a few pieces of jewellery planned in a little notebook from 2021 and I made a start with the first one. It is made with little amethyst nugget beads, alternating with seed pearls, with a few diamante beads thrown in for good measure, all held together with the most beautiful diamante clasp. 

Shades of Purple

Isn't that pretty? There are seven strands of beads in this necklace and the effect is wild and regal, the necklace drapes like a dream around your neck in a careless manner so you never have to worry about twisting and untwisting it.

While you're here, let me show you some pictures from Bangalore - from my 'home away from home,' the Bangalore Club - established in 1868 by Englishmen who wanted a little piece of home in a hot and hostile land. There were dress codes, regular dinner dances, horses, dogs and courtship of the little 'mem-sahibs' who came out regularly on the fishing fleets, looking for men in uniform to marry. Winston Churchill was a member once, and when he left India he left behind a debt of 13 Indian rupees, which was eventually written off - the reminder letter for this debt still sits in a glass fronted cabinet in the clubhouse.
Indians were allowed to become members in 1945, once Independance was achieved - but the dress codes, dinner dances, racquet games and little courtships - they continue. My parents were members before I was born and I became one as soon as I was 21, which is when dependant members could apply for membership. Today there is a waiting list of over 20 years to join the Club - there are many other clubs in Bangalore, but this one is 'The' Bangalore Club. One can only buy food and drink by signing a bill, on presentation of a photo card issued to each member, and guests have to be signed in and paid for. 
The central clubhouse is a sprawling Raj bungalow, painted blue ever since I can remember. 

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We grew up here - mom used to drop us off before she went to work in the school holidays and pick us up on the way back.  We swam, went to the library and ate chicken sandwiches, ice cream and crisps by the pool, until it was time to go home, dog tired, straight to bed.  Children weren't allowed in the main clubhouse of course, so it always feels like an illicit treat when I go in there now.

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I wonder which beast killed this beautiful creature? He should be shot and stuffed himself, but of course, he would be one of the long dead 'sahibs'.

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I found myself a quiet little corner in this building, on a verandah looking out over a courtyard, not too far from the bar, and I sat there on many days reading a book I took out of the library, occasionally meeting old friends for a spot of lunch. My mother thought I was crazy, but I met so many people, sometimes just sitting there like a little spider, waiting for old friends and acquaintainces to walk by. 
There's a lawn which fills up of an evening, where drinks and snacks are served to members and their guests and we went there almost every evening if we had nothing else planned.

That's my final instalment of my last holiday pictures - I was told by a friend long ago that the only way to live was to always have a holiday in the pipeline - accordingly, we have a short visit to Amsterdam planned soon - it is only an hour and a quarter away and I do want to revisit the Keukenhof gardens when the tulips are out - my last trip was in 1985 and I want to go again. 

That's me for this post, folks. Have a great week, and I'll catch you next Friday, same time, same place. 
Until then
​xx