And then my pants dropped off

 

Dahlings, how are you? I am pleased to report that our local Shorts Wearing Man is still at large, with daily sightings of him and his legs. I now have to sing a short refrain of "it's crazeey, crazeey, shorts wearing man!" whenever I drive past him, I just can't not do it. And  I am wondering what on earth will happen if it actually gets hot this summer - stay tuned for possible update on Crazy Naked Man and/or local mother drives car into hedge in state of over-excitement.

This week the boys popped back into school for a spot of learning before the next set of holidays.

To celebrate* I took myself off to Bicester Village (luxury brand discount outlet and my spiritual home).

Loved this dress but even discounted it was £££££

 

Shockingly, I bought very little. I saw a tweet a while ago along the lines of "My woman-ness is
broken, I can't shop" and I felt just like that, the pathos was overwhelming.

 

 

Marni

 

 

Loved the dress on the right but even discounted it was ££££££

 

 

 

Above and below Jimmy Choo

 

 

I came home with only liquid handwash and L'Artisan Parfumeur Mandarin eau de toilette.  When I told Mr B I had bought some mandarin perfume he asked why I wanted to smell like an ancient Chinese bureaucrat- ha ha Mr B, ha ha.

In yet another exciting new fashion development I have decided pencil skirts are the Way Forward** - ones in stretchy material, though, for comfort and ease of movement.




 I have decided they are more flattering for the older figure and also will eliminate the problem of  "accidental lower back exposure" aka builder's bum.  I have jeans from Zara which are cut too low. Recently the boys have been shouting "UUUUURHHHG MUM NO, we can see your bum, uuuuuuurh! !" when I bend down to feed one or other of the domestic appliances. It's not the kind of reaction I wish to inspire in young men.

I have taken the plunge and ordered these.  I look forward to returning them shortly. And to be honest, forget the skirts, I would rather hire one of these lovely, fresh faced, perky young ladies to come look after the household for me while I lie around on the sofa...

Zara - I clean your toilet now yes?



 

Asos - after I hoover I will go wash the car and then mow the lawn, ok?



Monsoon

In other exciting fashion news, Grandma Whacker has appointed me her personal stylist.  Move over Rachel Zoe (and stop making Skyler wear those hats): I am now Stylist to the Stars.  La Whacker is contemplating some Spring fashion purchases to take her through her many social  engagements.  We all know it will end in Marks and Spencer but in the meantime I think these jackets would suit the Big G very well.

Monsoon

In  other news I read this recently.





It made a big impression on me.  It's the true story of an attempt by the Czech Resistance in WW2 to assassinate Reinhard Heydrich, the Nazi Protector of Czechoslovakia and one of the architects of the Holocaust, and all round despicable human being.

 It's not a cosy read obviously given its subject matter, but I thought it was brilliantly done. It helped in terms of suspense that I was ignorant of this chapter of history; if you already know what happened, that might change your experience of the book.

 From reading the book blogs, I gather the novel is an example of "meta fiction", where there is a story within a story: the author recounts the book writing process and also plays with the conventions of the historical novel, telling a bit of the story and then in the next chapter revealing that he invented various details.  This has irritated certain readers but I liked it, I thought it was honest and made his account seem more trustworthy, not less, by showing that many details in historical accounts have been "filled in" by the author.

 Other commenters have also been upset by what they felt was the author's flippant tone and it is true he makes quips, but I found this understandable as a release valve: it helped to bear the horror of what he was describing.  I could not have coped with a highly charged account of the brave Resistance and the Nazi atrocities. As it was, I often had to lay the book down, exclaim "Bastards"" to myself and then carry on reading (which livened things up on one occasion when Mr B mistakenly thought I was referring to Boys 1 and 2, locked at that moment in fraternal combat).

I followed up with this - an eco end of the world novel - gosh, I am cheerful. 

What are you chaps reading at the moment?  Any nice, light, feel good books you can recommend, to balance things up?

Now, it has come to my attention that my follower numbers are sliding, a bit like my ill-fitting jeans.  Right you lot,  remember, IF YOU DARE UNFOLLOW ME, I WILL COME FOR YOU AND SHOW YOU MY TROUSER GAPPAGE IN FULL TECHNICOLOR AND IN CLOSE UP. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.***


*wicked mother
** previous Ways Forward have included shirts and jeans, dresses, tunics with skinnies, gingham, leopard skin, monochrome, jewel colours, pastels, neon, colour blocking, nail varnish, full make up, no make up, tracksuit bottoms, pyjamas,  Converse All Stars, high heels, no heels, no knickers (not really, just checking you are still awake), brogues, loafers, UGG boots....sartorial confusion is a cruel mistress
***there goes another couple of followers

Keeping The Dream Alive

Dahlings, did I mention I have just been to Paris?  Oh well, Paris now seems like a distant memory but I am trying to keep the romance alive...

Brain-washed by over-consumption of beauty blogs, I brought back some French pharmacy items (Me and Gwyneth, soulmates).

Avene skin cream, La Roche Posay sun lotions and the Bioderma make up remover that everyone raves about, except Mr B who had to lug the suitcase with it in

However, it is hard to keep the romance alive when you discover from the English section of the product literature  that the Avene Cilcalfate, lotion assechante, reparatrice (how lovely does that sound?) is meant for "Oozing skin irritations" - how typically Anglo-Saxon! So now apparently I have weeping sores. Nice.

Nuxe lip stuff, sets off my weeping sores a treat

I have also started reading this book.

 I got very excited when it mentioned the flagship store of  L'Artisan Parfumeur across the street from the Louvre - I clocked this the other day when in Paris - dahlings, did I mention I have just been to Paris? -  and Mr B had to keep a close eye on me otherwise I would have bunked off the cultural programme and hotfooted in there.

I put the book aside for a moment to gloat over my own Artisan P perfume - Rose des Indes...
But the smug glow of ownership did not last long - at that moment I noticed (after 2 years of liberal application to my person) that in fact it is "Parfum d'Ambiance" - Room Spray.

People like me really shouldn't be allowed out on their own.

Other members of the Blighty family have also been doing their utmost to keep the whole Paris experience alive: imagine my joy when I discover that while in Paris (did I mention I have just been to Paris?)Boy 2 has been wearing the same pair of socks for at least a day, a night (in bed)  and another day...... mmmmm, Eau de Trainers Chauds  And possibly "oozing".  Where's my room spray?


P.S. Grandma Whacker emailed to point out I had got my French wrong in my last post - it should be "puis-je" not "peux-je".  I tried blaming this on Boy 2 but he wearily explained that he said " Est-ce que je peux aller aux toilettes Madame s'sil vous plait?" - it's chanted as a singsong rhyme at breakneck speed by the boys as they leg it to the loos mid-lesson - their get out of jail card, so the only bit of French they take note of!!!! So thank you Grandma, now you have Mrs Merkel on Line 2, something about the Euro...needs your advice...