Walking through Paris in October, I saw her sitting outside in one of the street cafes. She reminded me so much of my father's aunt, whom I liked a lot. Aunt Henna was flamboyant and so different from anybody I had met as a small child. She was very tiny, had bright red hair and when she talked her hands moved wildly around. Her house was full of mysterious things.
One (admittedly there are only a few others) of the great things of waiting for the little girl to finally arrive, is the walks I take every day and one of my new discoveries is Wimbledon Common. It's an amazing place.