Support is a wonderful thing –– just knowing that it’s out there is often enough to make you feel better. Outside of family and friends, I’m a big believer in creating a community of support for oneself. Some people’s community includes a life coach, a healer, a housekeeper, a feng shui master, a pilot and a personal chef, while others will settle for once-a-month with a trusty hairdresser who listens, makes them laugh and cuts great bangs. These people are outside the personal fold, but they often tune in as much (sometimes more) as your dearests do. I started going to a chiropractor a year ago. I walked into Rosanne’s practice in so much pain that my eyes stayed closed the whole time. All I remember from that day was that Dido’s Mary in India was playing on the radio. And that she stuck needles in my hands and reminded me that, “this too shall pass.” One of her favourite phrases. Rosanne is positive, broad minded, kind, generous and smart. She’s also very good at what she does. Twice monthly adjustments are now a staple. And while I still move a little more gingerly than I did pre-injury, there is lovely reassurance in knowing that the support is there should I slam my coccyx flying down a slide again.

It’s strange to be caught between two seasons, where the pavements are covered in crimson leaves, but the air is still hot and humid. The city may look like Autumn, but it feels like summer. And I love it. I love heat –– even the kind that sticks to your arm pits and the skin inside your elbows. I’ll tolerate discomfort for the pleasure that heat brings. And while I know that charging through Chinatown with two children at noon is kind of loopy, there’s something so intensely satisfying about the smells, the noise, and the chaos, too. Besides, in a few days we’ll all be wearing lightweight sweaters and walking at a leisurely pace.

I watched a short film on Catalan artist, Joan Gardy Artigas today that’s set at his farmhouse in rural Barcelona. Artigas is 79, and still sketches and sculpts every day. The 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s were his heyday. He collaborated with Miró, and Picasso, Chagall and Giacometti were among his many artist friends. “I’m happy with my life. It has been long and intense. I’ve done many things. If I had to choose, I would do it all over again.” If you have a few moments, watch it. The gardens around his farmhouse are so beautiful, (listen for the birds) as is this shot of Gardy-Artigas sitting at his potter’s wheel.

Last week, I found some old  snaps I’d taken at a photobooth on The Strand. I was on my way to meet my friend Polly who worked around there, and I must have been early enough to putz around in a photobooth. I am wearing an orange paisley Top Shop dress, Diane von Furstenberg sunnies and a big smile. I loved those glasses. It’s always such a thrill to come across those old strips. A few months earlier, I’d found one of Jason, Iole and I in a photobooth at the supermarché in Bulle. I remember feeling awful that day –– drained by morning sickness and generally nervous about the reality of a second baby. But the pictures are so sweet; three happy faces squashed into one frame. And there’s another strip I love, of Jason and I at 19 and 21, kissing and giggling in a photobooth at Yorkdale. In my old filofax, I still have ones of me and my best friend Amy wearing thick eye liner and too much foundation in the early 90s. And between the pages of a book somewhere, are Stephanie, Polly, Zelmira and I toasting Zel’s upcoming nuptials in a photobooth at The Drake. Thankyou Anatol Josepho, for all the memories.

If you have a moment today for a touch of frivolous fun, please watch this delightful footage of British ballet dancer, Moira Shearer marrying author, Ludovic Kennedy at Hampton Court in 1950. The lashes on her fellow Sadler’s Wells dancers are divine, as is Shearer’s veil and demure dress. And is that champagne that’s being sipped from ballet slippers? Here she is in The red shoes directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger.