From highbrow to eyebrow….


Highbrow bit (well almost)

So I moved to Marseille just over three years ago from  a quiet residential area in south west London. A solid, 4 bedroomed house with loft extension, decent garden front and back and now…

A tiny but charming first floor flat above a restaurant that has now closed permanantly. The Italian that ran it has run off back to Italy leaving a string of debts.  Opposite we have a new family run pizza restaurant which is good, a trendy wine bar which is kind of New York style and a  Domino’s pizza for the cardboard eating youngsters of the area. It’s buzzy without being too loud.   None of these  eateries, however, reflect the wonderful French cuisine of Provence. Yet pizzas are a real  favourite in this town.  From  proper restaurants, take-aways  to  vans, there is never a problem in finding a slice of pizza to eat.  Not great for the waistline, so I tend not to indulge.

However,  there is something completely different at the end of  the road. It’s less than a minute’s walk away if you are from London and 5 if you are local. It is  the majestic  Palais Longchamp – a bit like having Buckingham Palace next door without the security or the Queen. It houses  the musée des beaux -arts and  a natural history museum. Neither of which I have visited …yet!  It also plays host to the annual jazz festival.  I have tickets for the Seal concert this year, so a picnic in the park and some good music  will be enjoyed. I can’t wait!   Th palace gardens purport to be one of the most notable in France. I’m not really sure that I’d agree with that although it provides a home for some of the city’s best fed,  smug looking cats.  Like furry Christmas baubles, they hang from the trees, sprawl across the benches and stand guard in the bushes.  The gardens clearly belong to them.


Only two cats to be seen but they all look alike anyway.  Not smug on Monday as the stages were being constructed for the concerts this week.  So miffed moggies of Marseille!

Our road  (actually its a Boulevard- how grand!) is on the route for one of two tramlines in the city.The trams start at about 5  in the morning and they call out ‘ting ting’ to me every time they pass our window- I love how friendly they are. If I were ever to feel the need to escape, I could just jump out of the window, land on top of one and arrive at Le Vieux Port where a speedboat would be ready to take me to wherever – like they do in films.  As if!

The Great Escape
Le Vieux Port

Eyebrow bit

 I have never really paid  much attention to my eyebrows,  although I did have a brief attempt at plucking them when I was about 15 with rather unusual results.  So I left them well alone after that, feeling that in this particular instance,  Mother Nature had given me exactly what was right for my face.

After many years of wearing  a fringe, I recently decided to alter my look , mainly because it has always flicked up in the wrong places. So the  side sweep!  Hmm .  I was  quite liking this new look but something wasn’t right.  I finally realised that the eyebrows were sad and crying  out for attention after years of neglect. No, they had not turned bushy but just a bit faded and depressed.  Can eyebrows look depressed even?  So I  did some research. Who knew that eyebrows are such a hot topic?  What next, earlobes?  I never give them much thought either. Anyhow, I  bought myself a brow  pencil with a special brushy thing   that has a name (can’t remember and not that bothered) and a waxy stick that sets the brows in place.  Now it takes me double the time to do my make -up and I have to put my glasses on to do the eyebrow bit as I can’t really see anymore . Yet  even with my glasses on, I do risk ending up looking a bit like Groucho Marks . It’s so hard too know just when to stop. Perhaps I should just go back to the fringe?