Finola ...

The fog lifted this afternoon after 4 days and at 3.15 the sun appeared briefly while I was walking with the dog in the woods. Suddenly the world came alive with sound and autumnal colour. It didn't last long.

I can never look at this colour without thinking of Finola, vivid red, corkscrew hair, alabaster skin and a passion for the unusual.

I met her at 6th form college, aged 17, she was living on her own in her parents large house, while her family was abroad, her father was in the army.

Finola was going through her purple phase.. It started with clothes, then the walls in the house changed from magnolia to purple. Next the fiery hair took on a purple hue and finally liberal dollops of purple food colouring were added to everything.

For us youngsters, her house was a great place to hang out with no parental intervention, and so it was that I experienced the purple phase first hand. Purple tea and purple porridge were almost acceptable, but, purple rice and chicken was just wrong.
The worst, for me was purple scrambled eggs. I still struggle with the thought and the execution of eating purple scrambled eggs on toast....