Whenever you visit a place you are always looking out for something that you take with you for keeps,something that brings you joy and something you want to fold into the memory shelf for some other times when you want to remember it.I drank that hot chocolate and doughnut to beat the snow in the high street.Old men with caps and jackets walked in with their newspapers to sit for that quintessential cup of tea.A young school boy made an order for a dozen doughnuts with variety of sauces to top it and he actually made conversation with the gentleman behind the counter-spruced up with tie and all,very english ,I thought.
I walked in the snow asking for directions,old men ,young men,young ladies,old ladies...walking an extra mile with generous smiles and a friendly demeanour to keep me on the trudge.
I am looking for that book again-the one that you want to pay for,the one you want to keep away safely in your bookcase and go back to again and again and again,the one you want to curl with, in your bed on a cold ,snowy Bath afternoon..the one you want to drag along from place to place in your nomadic existance......will I find one today?I wonder.
Something with charecter which will freeze a moment in time with it's lucid potrayel of time and space which seems so human and yet is definately another era.
It will be sometime before I forget Hugh Jackman's potrayel of the convict in parole,Anne Hathaway as a prostitute or even Russsel Crowe as the straight-jacket Javert.
This is going back to 19th century France......
......And I thought I was looking for Bath ....I found the 'Little Theatre ' though.
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