not flowers, again

... though I could claim that the purple, green and white was some kind of homage to early C20th suffrage culture... But I won't.   And even though these came from Highland Park's Farmers' Market - where  Alice went whilst I was slaving over a hot Chair's desk - this is not yet another FM post.   For this is, in truth, a celebration of our living room fireplace.   All this week the living room, A's study, and the downstairs cloakroom (? a britishism - maybe a bathroom, though there's certainly no bath - our painter calls it a powder room) have been most excellently painted by Judy Wood of ArtistHand Painting.   And at last we are Free Of the Dreadful Red Brick Fireplace, which might have been an authentic 1930 period piece but was somber and depressing.   That discreet alcove, moreover, was a mirror - most inexplicable - previously we hung something over it, and now there'll be the challenge of whether to do so again or disguise it.   It's not easy to take fully flattering photos of any of it yet, though, since the lights are still covered in protective plastic, and outside, it's dark wet green gloom.