Last week was my fifth infusion of Intragram. Even though I was told it would get easier as the months wore on, it hasn't. The days afterwards are still a lot like you'd imagine the after effects of colliding with a Mac truck would be, with at least one day on the bath room tiles surfing waves of nausea. And yet not so grim. This opportunity clearly represents a blessing. Plus this time around was my kind of weather - a classic hot summer day, the school holidays and the bliss of retreating into a cool, still home afterwards. Arch had had his birthday party the weekend before at "Tunzafun" - little boy heaven with dodgems, laser tag (whatever that is), and unlimited games - and all the presents he'd received from invitees were still strewn over the lounge room floor. This is partly because I dread the idea of integrating yet more toys into the household but also because they are nice and accessible for him and he is still spending hours playing blissfully constructing, sorting, building etc.among them. Before long, with myself parked on the lounge just watching him idly, no thoughts about what I needed to get up and do next, a sense of sweet contentment had come over the room. Funny how easy parenting can sometimes be. That all your child might want is your presence, a sense of your availability. And they do sense it. I've become really aware of this after a hectic year when my attention was partially elsewhere. Arch doesn't just give love unconditionally, you have to earn it. But to get right down to it earning that love doesn't, it appear, involve much. For the rest of the week the two of us spent our time together really not doing anything much. I stayed in pyjamas, slept on and off in his company as he went from toy to toy. I made us snacks, we watched video's together. Even the day I spent most on the bathroom tiles we managed companionability. It's a strange wonder that what could have been an otherwise unmanageable week, has been one of resonant sweetness.
While 1960s comic book heroines featured on bags, coats, cardigans, shirts and dresses for Prada's Spring 2018 collection there's a kind of 1980s subtext here too. With the PRADA font, the colour palette - lots of bright red and electric blue — plus those silhouettes. It's hard then not to think of a 1980s night club when I see this collection — the underground print press with screen printed posters and thus a little bit of punk too. All very pre-Madonna. Yay Prada!