There is a story here.
Apart from loving the vibrant strawberry pink and the cherubic faces of the babies, there is a tale to tell.
Years ago, in a land far away and another lifetime David and I were strolling the streets of Hong Kong. We were on one of our many transits through the city on our way to Australia. We would stop a night or two, soak up the energy of this vibrant city and feast ourselves on a cuisine we sorely missed having moved to Europe. Our walks over the decades have always included Hollywood Road – not the same as it was but still a wonderful adventure – climbing up the winding paths and through the street sellers is something we love to do. I have come home with so many “treasures” from these travels; red hanging lanterns being one of my favourites.
This particular day as we wandered Hollywood Road we came upon a gallery with an exhibition of Mao Babies. The colours were vibrant, we knew nothing of Chinese art, but I thought they were fabulous in an unusual way. We admired them but ever practical decided they should stay where they were. And on we went.
Fast forward 6 months.
A little detail to illustrate the story.
David has an excellent knowledge of the French language but is a reticent speaker. I am the verbal communicator in France, then and now.
The phone rang and he rushed to answer the call in his office.
I heard him chatting away in French – this was something he never did and especially not answering the phone – and very well. My curiosity peaked. When the call finished I asked him who he was talking “the talk” with? His response, non-committal and a look to say, wait and see. He can be like that and spends much of his day talking on the phone, so I didn’t make much of it.
30 minutes later I heard what sounded like a large truck rattling down our driveway. He rushed outside and welcomed in a couple of guys with a rather large delivery. Yes, you guessed. At the time I had absolutely no idea what he was up to.
It was the babies.
He had returned to the art gallery in Hong Kong during our visit earlier in the year, unbeknownst to me and bought the Mao Babies to celebrate our wedding anniversary in the coming November. He had seen how much they resonated with me and wanted us to have them.
It was one of the most romantic gestures. These babies have moved with us from France to London. They have had many positions, the pride of place and not and no doubt they will again.
Why do I love them? It doesn’t matter I just do. xv
Fancy A Dash Of Raspberry Pink?
this feature contains affiliate links