I met the private equity gals recently, and had a good dinner and decadent martini under the stars! (sort of, in a little picnic) . Photos will be up soon…but it was a private event and we didn’t invite the boys so we wouldn’t talk too much finance (after work hours!) though we succumbed a bit, though I am not as updated given the fact that I have been into cases all day long, but it was still nice to get an update on companies and such, and M danced prettily on the grass for us (M is one of my favourite ballet dancers, and if she had not gone into banking, would have gone into dance school!) I love ballet… I even came to like Degas because of ballet, came to know of Tchaikovsky cause of ballet…maybe my little girl can follow that dream one day (though the way irony in life goes, it is my likely she will end up playing softball)
First picture by Georgia (last name unknown), latter two by Degas. The last is possibly my favourite piece by Degas, though he has done other lovely pictures of ballet dancers in the midst of performances which are equally sublime.
One thing I don’t like about WordPress. I constantly feel terribly tempted to justify my text! But it is still better than Livejournal for now as Livejournal constantly loses my html after I make edits.
Brief daily outfit post from yesterday…~ I love this black chiffon and silk top it is now a fundamental staple of my work wardrobe…
I was still in the midst of reading to you my favourite Christmas poem by John Betjeman, Beansprouts, before my card value unkindly ran out (please please get more credit Beansprouts!) John Betjeman is one of my favourite poets, and is well loved by UK locals, and there was even an exhibition on his work in the British Library which I attended sometime back.
The referenced poem:
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.
The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
‘The church looks nice’ on Christmas Day.
Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says ‘Merry Christmas to you all’.
And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.
And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children’s hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say ‘Come!’
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.
And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window’s hue,
A Baby in an ox’s stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?
And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,
No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare –
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
So amazing. It is so intricate, I could stare at the details for hours!
Thats all for now~ will update more perhaps in the coming weekend!
Btw I am looking for a trading/fund management game trainer for a large group of about 70-80, if any one has any contacts please let me know.