Posted by Tania Kindersley.
Yesterday was a flat day. They come, every so often, for no reason I can identify. I like proper emotions. I like happiness, obviously, and joy, and intense interest. I embrace melancholy, which I like to think comes from my Irish blood (and even a tiny teaspoon of Danish, so I can go all Hamlet on you when the mood is in me). But I hate flatness. It is what my friend Sophie calls the shallow trough. It is what the Americans, with expressive brevity, call blah. That's why I did not write a post.
Today, the sun is shining, the snow is glittering, and Scotland is in her pomp. There has been a tremendous pre-prandial party in honour of the excellent visiting relatives. Champagne at noon, never let it be said I forget how to be decadent. I got the good conversation, which I sometimes think is all I need. I have no talent for small talk, but there was no danger of that. We spoke of food, physics, James Joyce, the nature of the English, and the perils of sentimentality. (Sentimentality is unearned emotion, said one of the relatives, which I thought the best description of it I ever heard.) Now I must drink black coffee as thick as treacle and clear my head and get some work done.
In the meantime, here is a quick snapshot of the glorious weather: