Border Disputes and Other Key Issues

Dahlings, I have had to write a stiff letter to Ines de la Fressange:

Dear Madame de la Fressange (can I call you Angie for short?)

Look here Angie!

We both know you have been style stalking me for years, copying my best looks and snatching my role as muse for old Karl L. from me....(Karl would have done much much better work if he had a mad old housewife as muse, his work with machine washable fabrics and go anywhere aprons and comfy shoes would have been Visionary).

See here's you wearing a stripey shirt under a pullover.

Well here's me.

Here's you rocking a Lacoste polo shirt.

Here's me doing the same look in my own way, using a body double.  See how you have even copied the multiple medallion look, Angie?

Angie, I have turned a blind eye to this sartorial theft but now you have gone too far:

Outrageous!  Copying my canine accessory! How dare you! Have you no shame? All I can say is, I hope he sheds hair on your slimline black capris and chews up your Roger Viviers.

Your sincerely

B Blighty

And then I had to write to old Kirstie Allsop

Dear Mrs Allsop

I read in the Daily Mail on-line that recently you have caused a mini furore by stating that girls should not go to university.  I suspect that superficially stoopid statement was actually a very clever way of getting publicity for your latest enterprise.

But what concerns me is this picture of you with a Border Terrier.  What are you thinking?  There you are, encouraging people to do up their homes and scatter cushions and curtains around with gay abandon while at the same time clutching what we now refer to in our house as a Mobile Shredder. Have you seen their teeth? Huge!  It is only a matter of time before old matey there chomps his way through a rug and a lovely throw embroidered by peasants in rural Gloucestershire, before setting to work on that flower arrangment.  You have been warned.

Yours sincerely

B Blighty

And then I had to write to this lady.

 

 

Dear Mrs Queen Beatrix

I now understand the real reason for your abdication.  They really are trouble aren't they?  Well done on managing to keep the Queen gig going so long while handling a Border Terror.  You were very wise though to hand over to your son so you could concentrate on Border Control issues. I like the way you look regal and serene in this photo while at the same time keeping a firm hold on the Terror. Out of interest, has he ever jumped in a canal before?

Yours etc

Well I was told a dog could be a lot of work but I had no idea it would involve so much correspondence.

Early Morning Thoughts or Why Modern Technology is Rife with Danger

Even their own ads admit the possibility of getting drenched

Here is what came into my head first thing:

That is a weird loo.

Who knew there would be actual scarf porn?

You will be relieved* to hear that the two thoughts are not related.

Let's go to the loo first:
  I was watching YouTube** yesterday and there was an ad for a loo that swooshed water up your butt (sorry but can't find a delicate way of putting that, just hope the actual loo is more delicate about it).  

Saucy action shot, for more please send your bank account details to this number

A myriad questions arise, including:

What on earth? 

Is this optional or does it happen every time?

 Have they looked into the Elf and Safety implications? 

What if the timing is set wrong and it whooshes water at you before you have even  got your pants down?  How would you explain your drenched trousers?

Darling did you enjoy a refreshing toileting experience?
Yes but now I permanently wear sweatpants as I am getting through 8 pairs a day

What if your plumber gets the water pressure too high and it blasts you out of the loo on a tidal wave right into the middle of your dinner party guests?

Now, any one for coffee and mints?

What if the machines take over and the loo starts following you around, and every time you step out of line it mutters in sinister tones "Time to freshen up!" and blasts your bot??

Quite frankly I am surprised Mr Cameron hasn't recalled Parliament to debate the issue, or even summoned COBRA, it seems to me it could be the biggest threat facing our society since er....[insert threat of choice - Kardashians, tamagochi, ]

See it's definitely a sinister cult

Dear readers, have you had personal experience of such loos?  Please share your thoughts.

Now scarf porn:

I am currently experiencing major Scarflet Fever so was poking around the internets to see pics of scarves tied; as the Goddess MaiTai advises, when choosing a scarf, you need to see how it looks tied, not just opened out flat. This is very wise advice which of course I ignored to my cost when buying this scarf on evilBay.

Looks stunning flat.

Sorry the Ektorp is out of stock but have you tried our meatballs?

However when tied and worn looks worryingly like the IKEA corporate colours, I have nothing against IKEA but possibly not the look you want with your Hermes...


Among the many Google images of Hermes scarves there was one I clicked on - it then offered to show me lots of ways of tying scarves if I paid some money via PayPal..then I noticed a few others from the same "people"...Svetlana and Ludmilla would show me how to tie silk scarves and then they would get naughty....

What on earth?

Is this optional or does it happen every time?

Have they looked into the Elf and Safety implications?

Dry cleaning issues?

So my theory is that a small boy  is dragged by his mother to the Hermes mothership at Faubourg St Honore and has to wait for hours while his mother peruses all the Hermes loveliness; the boy lies under the tables of the Hermes wares and looks at the ladies' legs....so forever Hermes scarves and feminine charms are linked in his impressionable psyche....***

Am I being disgusting?
Probably.

But the most shocking, depraved aspect of all this:
(stop reading now if you are of a delicate disposition)
I am pretty sure those Hermes scarves sported by old Ludmilla and co were ...

FAKE.

I know.  The internet is a wicked, wicked place.


*Pun intended
** Ok, I admit, it was the audition scene from Flashdance, what can I say, I have a very rich cultural life
*** Note to self, never ever take Boys 1 and 2 to Hermes, cannot afford them developing Hermes fetish and throwing away all their money on the hard faced Svetlanas and Ludmillas of this world, who quite frankly would not be the daughters in law I would choose and would probably have some interesting ideas re water blasting loos..



HOUSEKEEPING:  PLEASE PLEASE ENTER THE BOOK GIVE AWAY  CLICK ON THIS
LINK NOW!  DON'T WORRY, SVETLANA AND LUDMILLA AREN'T THERE, THEY ARE ON THEIR TEA BREAK

Isn't Negligee French for Neglect?

Dahlings, how are you all?


Right that's enough about you, back to me.

Went to a Daphne4Boyz Mother's Power Lunch yesterday.
Discussion of vital issues including the horror of rugby (Swollen Parts and How to Deal With Them), what happens when you pack your 10 year old's boxer pants by mistake in husband's case for business trip (Swollen Parts and How to Deal With Them) (husband uncomplainingly goes commando) and Most Important of All:

Do we need to Raise our Game in terms of Nightwear in view of our Advancing Years?

To be honest, my heart sank.  I thought bed was one place were I could let it all go and happily crawl into my tatty pjs and washed out sweatshirts. And as Mr B is usually at work till all hours "trying to get something out" (always thought he was referring to a new draft of legislation but now wonder if I should check he has right underpants on) he never actually sees me in daylight anyway, let alone notice what night garb I am wearing.

On the other hand, only the day before I had been checking out the Marks and Spencer nightwear as I am in the market for some news pjs, having reluctantly parted company with one pair which had mysteriously developed holes after only 15 years..so this topic was of  great interest.

Instead of comfy Mummy pjs, should I get myself an elegant La Perla type night dress with matching gown? 

La Perla; "Your dinner is in the dog Mr B"

 But feel I do not have the lifestyle to go with it - when would I actually put on the gown?  These days I am either comatose or up wrangling Boys 1 and 2, there is no in between lounging around dipping strawberries in champagne ...And I can't have any drapey silk getting underfoot as I chase the boys around the house (Elf and Safety issues). I suppose Cruella de Ville managed ok, but then she had help.

Also if Mr B did come home early enough to catch sight of me decked up like this, he would probably think he was in the wrong house and go next door looking for his supper...

La Perla; "Darling be a dear and take the bins out would you?"...(hey, I am starting to get the point of this fancy sleepwear idea, just need to hire a body double and some antique furniture)

Vita e Passioni d'Emira silk-georgette and lace robe

Rosamosario £520  from net a porter

 Rosamosario Venetian Love lace-trimmed silk-crepe kimono

£695 from net a porter

       

Us Daphne4Boyz Mothers also discussed the fashion for All in Ones- I mentioned how unsettled I was to see these on offer at M&S for Grown Ups.

From M&S on-line

 Apparently lots of young girls wear these at boarding school to keep warm while doing their prep.  Best left to the young I feel - also the likelihood of my toppling over and knocking myself out when trying to extricate myself from said garment in middle of the night to have a wee is too high....do not want to be found unconscious with babygro round my ankles.... (What's that Mr B?  Wouldn't be the first time? Ha ha Mr B, ha ha).


The only good look I've seen involving a onesie recently (apart from babies who of course look adorable in them) is this:

found this on pinterest, not sure who took the pic in first place, happy to attribute if anyone knows

 Who knew that the whole issue of night clothes is so fraught?

And why are those coat thingies called negligees?  When they are so obviously the exact opposite of Letting Oneself Go?   Answers please ready for next Daphnes Mothers Power Lunch. No pressure. A full Powerpoint presentation and Excel spreadsheet of different sleepwear option price points is also required.

Seven Dials; Mrs Exeter; The Duke of Hazards

Dahlings, life has speeded up, we are yet again hurtling towards another school holiday. This means I am busy cramming in all the jaunts which the presence of boys would not permit.

Interior of the Miller Harris shop at Seven Dials

I took a little trip up to London and paid a visit to the Miller Harris perfume shop near Covent Garden. It's actually in a part of town called Seven Dials, which makes me think of the Agatha Christie novel of that name; it sounds very 1930s...

Cover of first UK edition, picture taken from Wikipedia

Miller Harris is sold in various department stores including Liberty's; but dare I say, I don't find the perfume section of Liberty's very friendly, the assistants seem a bit tecky to me (unlike the lovely girls on the cosmetics counters there); I swear a perfume maven inhaled sharply the other day when I dared to place my mitts on  a candle...and my mitts were clean, honest, I wasn't clutching a Crispy Creme at the time.

Gratuitous pic of spring fashions in Liberty's, just because..

Cire Trudon candles at Liberty - don't touch!

The Miller Harris shop by contrast was heaven, the assistant very friendly and very knowledgeable about the products.  I had the best time spraying and sniffing and babbling away to the lovely girl there - hi Natalia, I have not forgotten how kind and helpful you were!

The wallpaper is Miller Harris designed and can also be purchased

I could not choose there and then - really I felt spoilt for choice, I think the Miller Harris fragrances are ones which you cannot go wrong with, no matter what you choose, but I loved them all and just couldn't decide!  I came away with lots of samples, which I am really enjoying - Terre de Bois; La Pluie; Tangerine Vert; La Fumee.  Currently I am in love with Coeur de Fleur  - a divinely soft, clean smell, very spring like, I keep nuzzling my arm, I find myself so delicious! ( I am trying not to do this too much when other people are around as it must look ever so slightly pervy).  I also like the fact that Miller Harris is still an independent perfumer, unlike the Jo Malones and the L'Artisan Parfumeurs who are now owned by big cosmetic companies..) and the founder Lyn Harris is still very much hands on in the creation of the perfumes. Plus she trained as a perfumer in Grasse, France, and I once spent a summer there working as an au pair so you see Mr B it is really important I have a Miller Harris perfume to remind me of my distant youth (think he was called Pierre or maybe it was Bertrand???).....

Miller Harris perfume samples - divine!

Another big treat recently was to meet up with Mrs Exeter, whom many of you will know from her blog.  Mrs E also lives in Buckinghamshire, not far from me, so we met up for coffee in a very pretty market town. We talked and talked and had a lovely time and then Mrs E had to go riding, as you do - how cool!  In a  clever decluttering move, Mrs E gave me a book on decluttering.  Masterful!

Mrs E also gave me this nail polish.

It is called "Old Blighty".

How fitting!  Thank you so much Mrs E.

We have plans to meet again for a trip to my spiritual home, Bicester Village.

The boys have of course been busy with various boy type activities.  They certainly keep them busy at Daphnes4Boyz:  Maths tests, French tests, cake competitions, Sports Relief charity run, football matches,  Inter-House General Knowledge Quiz (won by Verruca but with Impetigo coming a close second), egg decorating competition, £5 challenge (otherwise known as extorting money out of your peers in return for bags of popcorn)...and then it's time for morning registration...

Mr B and I were very amused by Boy 2's recent trip to somewhere called Hazard Valley, some sort of interactive educational centre designed to teach children how to cope with various dangers.

Look at this picture.  Can you all see what the issues are ? *answers below

Mr B found the numerous leaflets from the Coastguards which Boy 2 came home clutching very funny, considering we are the furthest you can possibly get from the sea anywhere in the UK!  Possible case of print over-run in the Coastguard department? or do they know what bath time is like at Blighty HQ?

When I asked Boy 2 what had happened on the trip, his main feedback was that Justin A. Bucket had been sick on the coach on the way there and Max Chunder had thrown up on the coach on the way back, all over a teacher. 

Conclusion: the main hazard facing a 9 year old is being blurped on during a school trip, so important to
 a) identify; and
b) avoid sitting anywhere near;
 the pukey kids at all times....

These are vital life skills, which will serve Boy 2 very well in later life. 

Never underestimate the importance of school trips.



* the hazards are of course as follows:

• that girl is wearing dangerously out of fashion 80s style gear, including Reebok type trainers and a scrunchie;
• the baby's nappy looks worryingly full, real risk of seepage situation and hazardous fumes;
• baby needs to remove dummy before taking a drag on the ciggy**
• is that red wine properly aerated - should it not be decanted?

** this blog of course does not advocate smoking for the under two's, though an occasional pipe can help them unwind

Boy 1 The Teenage Years

Dahlings, long time, no blog! Disgraceful!

Here events have taken a strange turn and Boy 1 seems to have entered the teenage years, even though he is only going to be 11 when his birthday comes next week..

There were a few warnings signs - increased interest in personal hygiene for a couple of weeks which meant showers in the morning/pool of water on bathroom floor and a desire for body spray products.  I even caught Boy "I don't need a bath my knees are only a bit muddy" 2 surreptitiously spraying on some Lynx Africa under his pjs the other day.  (A friend who used to be in the Navy told me that the application of deodorant onto unwashed body is know as a "submariner's dobby", that's the kind of info my brain retains).

I could launch into a rant about childhood ending too early and the evils of advertising and consumerism and children being made to feel they need deodorising when they are not even whiffy...but the blog couldn't cope with an outbreak of earnestness...and  thankfully both boys aren't really that bothered, with body spray coming a long way down a list of activities where Warhammer, computer games, football, totally unfunny jokes about cheese and whacking each other on the head with Nerf guns take priority.

I did, though, find myself in Hollister in the Westfield Shopping Centre, London yesterday with Boy 1.  And what an unsettling experience it was!

We were on a mission to buy Boy 1 a T-shirt for his birthday. We located the shop, which was all decked up on the outside to look like a house with white shutters and tiles. Inside we found a warren of tiny little rooms overstuffed with kit.  And Boy 1, as if a switch had been flicked, got very grumpy and teenage with me.  He was so obviously finding me a total embarrassment.  Can't think why, I only said things like:

"Ooh, it's sooo dark in here, I can't see what colour that is, or the size, can you see the size?" 
"Oooh, it's so cluttered up, did you see I almost fell over that rail? It's a deathtrap!"

He almost died of shame when I pushed the stockroom door ajar to see what colour the T-shirt was I was holding..
And he got really narked when I said for the 50th time, "If you're too hot, poppet, you can take your hoodie off."

The shop was full of teenage girls and boys, both customers and sales assistants. The average age was about 16 ( and that's only because me and a couple of other wrinklies pushed the average up by 10 years).Gosh, I felt so old baggy and witchy, faced with a very pretty sales girl wearing a tiny little broderie anglaise top - why are teenagers so attractive these days?  What happened to acne and gawkiness and greasy hair? (oh, that was just me - thanks Grandma Whacker).  I saw another mother exclaiming about the bad lighting, and a very cross father shouting, "Right, that's enough, I'm leaving!"  It's the sort of shop that makes parents very grouchy.

But despite or possibly because of the parental disapproval, the stuff was flying off the shelves and I guess teenagers would be too embarrassed to return a T shirt which they thought was grey and then in the daylight turned out to be fluorescent orange...

It wasn't all bad.  We scored a couple of cool T shirts.
And I got to take this chap home.

To be honest he is not really my type, I hate a man whose chest is better developed that my own.

And as Boy 2 has just pointed out, he looks a lot like Grendel from Boy 2's Beowulf reading book.

Little know fact: Grendel only angry because someone nicked his surfboard and his agent never got him any really good modelling jobs.

Mrs B Armed And Ready To Save The World

The other day I dropped by Lisa at  Privilege and read a post on something mysterious called an Arm Party.  I got the wrong end of the stick and thought it meant you had actually to get together with friends and all show off and clank your bangles and bracelets and other arm accoutrements  - handcuffs, electronic tags, blood pressure monitors. bits of string off the Sunday joint (roast meat, ok) etc.. I was a bit worried about the Elf and Safety implications of such a gathering - what if I got over-excited mid-conversation, swept my hand back theatrically (as I am wont to do), and knocked out the teeth of the person next to me with an arm bulked up with bits of metal, leather, spikes and painted enamel? .... But, as Lisa explains, Arm Party is  a term invented by a feisty young New York fashion blogger called the Man Repeller http://www.manrepeller.com/.  And it simply means having lots of jewellery decorating your wrists, in an artful and eclectic manner.

Lots of the bloggy fashion girls seem to go in for arm parties.  For some, the party never stops and I applaud their ability to get out the house on time and to get through airport security unmolested.

Here is Miss Atlantic-Pacific.

Here is Miss Sterling Style

Having read Lisa's post, I knew that the world would not be safe until I had really got to grips with the whole Arm Party concept...and you know me, so selfless...so I spent a  lovely half hour or so saving the  Universe looking at bingly bangles on the internet...

I saw this,

TopShop bracelet

 And this.

TopShop bangle

 And this

TopShop charm bracelet - guess which website I was on!

In the end I bought this, I mean I did not want to, but the entire galaxy was at stake. It reminded me of those Hermes ones but was just a little bit cheaper. (And as it's just going to get covered in Nutella and toothpaste anyway....)

TopShop imitation leather bracelet £8.50

Hermes leather bracelet, a bit more than £8.50

Another Hermes leather bracelet

Phew, the world was a safe place again.

And now I know why Wonder Woman wore those cuffs.

All Normal Chez Blighty*

Boy 1 ready for some disco action

Dahlings! A quick post while I have the chance - Boy 1 is at yet another disco and Boy 2 has (illegally) reconnected the Wii and I am pretending I haven't noticed...

This time the disco is at the girls' school - St Britneys.  When Boy 1 learnt the venue, he nodded sagely and muttered, "Enemy territory."  Should I have asked Mr Cameron for a spare Apache, for air cover?  What if the mission goes wrong and Boy 1 goes native, and is found years later on the netball court, wild eyed and covered in hairclips, bangles and glitter?

Highlights of this week have been Boy 1's new cricket bat and cricket wheelie bag, and Boy 2's wounded foot - caused by an attempt to scale his wardrobe one night after lights out, for reasons known only to Boy 2 and assisted only by a rickety chair. Result - terrific thump, wailing, school attendance wearing one school shoe and one bright red Croc and mad hoppy-skippy walking (to emphasise the incredible pain and amazing braveness of the Afflicted One).

This is so totally rad and happening, Boy 2 like totally owns this look and rocks it like majorly

The combination of the new cricket bag and the foot incident really made me wonder about the Blighty gene pool. Picture the scene: I decant Cricket Boy and Hoppalong Cassidy from the car after school; Hoppalong gets to the door first but wobbles at the threshold; Cricket Boy, fresh from a cricket match where his team triumphed over the Weeny Tweenies under 5s, pushes past in a manly, sportsmanlike way, his new cricket bag slung over his shoulder; unfortunately he has not worked out that the bag is wider than the doorway.....so he wedges himself in the door and practically knocks himself out, and narrowly avoids bringing down old Hoppalong who is tottering behind him...
I didn't help by dissolving into mad laughter but really...what a pair! !
 Is there any hope for those two I wonder?**  Could they perhaps play Thompson and Thomson in a Tintin adaptation?

This is wider than the door apparently, it should have an Elf and Safety Notice on it and so should the door frame

My handydandy calendar which has funny quotes for each day (and quite frankly is getting on my nerves with its relentless jollity) featured this the other day:

I like a challenge so I whipped up a cake -  yes, Mrs Blighty, Having It All.  But I had a chocolate fudge icing malfunction - it was so runny, not only did it run off the cake but the top of the cake started to slide off the bottom, in sinister slo-mo.  You never see Nigella's top sliding off her bottom, as it were. (Although no doubt some tapes will surface at some point).

And of course,  the main news is that, having managed a few days at school, the Boys are now on holidays AGAIN.  You know how fashionistas do that "Cost per Wear" calculation - if you buy a dress which costs £800 and wear it 10 times it only costs you...er....(but why not buy a dress that costs £10 and wear that 10 times and it will work out even cheaper???)...well, I hate to think of the Cost per Wear on a Daphne4Boy$ uniform...but don't worry, I am doing my best to bring the cost down by forcing Boy 1 to wear a blazer whose sleeves now stop just below his elbows... I tried to do the same with the PE shorts until the music teacher took me to one side and explained that there wasn't a part for a falsetto in the school choir...



* I have to thank Debs for this title; Debs is a loyal and witty commenter, who made me laugh by commenting recently that everything seemed "normal as usual" in the Blighty household.
** Should Boy 1 take up the double bass?  I have to come clean and fess up to similar door width/turning in corridor/  misshaps with a cello in my yoof..

Barcelona offers hope for Moana, and some Important Advice

I underwent a bit of a style transformation while in Barcelona, I really wanted to catch that contemporary Spanish vibe

Dahlings, still quite not up to speed, what with the unpacking of suitcases and putting Boys 1 and 2 in the washing machine...

In the meantime, I have encouraging news for Moana.

Whaddya mean, who is Moana?  Come on people, stay with it! Moana is the latest alter ego of Louise of InTownsville, my blogosphere soulmate and partner in crime  really dodgy jokes.http://fromnorthqld.wordpress.com/

  I met Louise in Real Life a few months ago - you can read about the meeting of the Superpowers here.http://blightyworld.blogspot.com/2011/01/when-blighty-met-lousie.html

Thanks to the evil cyclone Yasi, Louise broke her back.  Since then, due to terrible pain, Lou sometimes transforms into Moana, very understandably. 

Lou and I have been joking about getting her a new back somehow....

So,  look what I found in a small restaurant/bar in Barcelona on our first day:

Item 3:  Back with Egg and Chips. 

Lou,  the Back is on its way to you, but I am afraid Boy 1 ate the egg and chips.

(I would like to apologise to Janet of Gardener's Cottage and any other vegetarians/vegans for the extremely carnivorous nature of this menu; I think perhaps the translation is a bit over-enthusiastic.... )

Now, you know how I like to perform a public service role in this blog (I guess I am just sooo pro-active and caring).  Well, I am able to pass on some Important Advice we received on arrival from our receptionist at Juan Towel Hotel.  The receptionist handed us a piece of paper warning us about the danger of pickpockets in Barcelona - the paper listed various scenarios such as:

• if someone tell you in street that you have stain on your clothes do not stop, they will steal   from you
• if someone tell you something is wrong with your car do not stop, they will steal from you
• if someone is playing a game of dice do not play, they will steal from you
• if someone approaches you in the street, run away screaming, it will be Boys 1 and  2 whining for more ice creams
• if you want to be robbed in broad daylight go to the Barcelona football team stadium Camp Nou and hand over your credit card plus remaining Euros in  the gift shop

Gift shop at Camp Nou, background noise is Mrs B weeping into her wallet

Camp Nou stadium

In Barcelona they speak Catalan which to me seems like a mix of French and Spanish...this is the Barcelona club motto: More Than A Club (damn right it is, it's also a brilliant vehicle for the sale of nylon T shirts at extortionate prices...the concentration of man made fibres in that gift shop surely contravenes Elf and Safety rules on fire hazards)

Having rendered us pleasantly neurotic, the receptionist then came out with her coup de grace:

"Is no good putting rucksack in your backside!"  Those fiendish pickpockets will stop at nothing ...

So there you have it, the most useful piece of advice I can pass on to other travellers.

 DON'T PUT YOUR RUCKSACK IN YOUR BACKSIDE

It will only make your eyes water anyway.

You can thank me later.