Purple, for Stella

There has been no daylight to speak of today; not in a gloomy metaphorical way but in a gloomy literal way. Even at lunchtime.

A week ago Stella said she would like me to blip my purple leather gloves and so that was what I planned to do, but the lighting leaves a lot to be desired.

After my pre-loved table and chairs had settled into the flat yesterday I went out exploring and found a perfect purple cashmere scarf in a hospice shop for £3. Well you have to do your bit don't you.

So here are my purple leather gloves from Skop Town complete with my purple cashmere scarf from Chatham High Street posing together on my kitchen floor for the best chance of showing what colour they really are.

Happy blipday Stella!

A long, long time ago, I think it was Kalliopi in the Glossa Citizen's Advice Bureau, introduced me to an obscure Greek verb meaning “to purple oneself”. I cannot now track that verb down, and as far as I recall, it had its roots in madness and megalomania, to do with despotic Roman emperors. So thoughtful of the Greeks to remember things like that with an entire verb. I think.