Right Now

Right now we are all about....

Laundry.

Who knew coal mining was on the curricculum at Greggs Grammar?

Christmas trees

Multiple pairs of trainers for our sporting activities

Is Boy 2 a centipede? Why so many shoes? No wonder he staggers up the drive on the way to school. Cue maternal guilt at making boys walk to school.

Trying to eat our Santa hat.

Scarfing it up. 

Photo above from the Scarf Forum, I need to buy a melon, will it count as one of my 5 a day? (it's tutorial on how to tie an Ascot cowl knot, apparently). How do I balance it on my head?

Meet Chicken* my only friend.  She is helping me sell some Hermes scarves on  Evil Bay.  If you are interested, I'm pudfish63.

* Called Chicken because she is headless.  Groan.

She is already misbehaving, all super-modelly, tantrums, wants a private jet and Cristalle champagne..I now suspect the head removal was all part of an extreme celeb weight loss fad.

Above and below,  Hermes Sous les Branches de L'Ombu

Books.  This one was interesting - I did not know that Talitha Getty was the granddaughter of Augustus John and had forgotten that old David Bailey was married to Catherine Deneuve.

 

 

 

Bargain Diane von Furstenburg dresses from the Bay of Evil.

Migraines.  Bane of my life.  Any tips? 

What are you All About these days?

TTFN

Donner und Blitzen and Expert Dog Training

Hello Dahlings!

Sunday afternoon here so have sneaked off to update you all on life at Blighty HQ.

We have had a mini heatwave here and then tremendous thunderstorms and lightning - Donner und Blitzen.  No, not the reindeer Mr B.  Ha ha, Mr B, ha ha.

So my cheapo Primark dress appeared on its annual, one day outing.

I may have mentioned I contracted serious Scarf Fever but this hot weather makes wearing a scarf impossible.  Finally I understand the lamenting of the ladies on the Purse Forum about this, yes Mr B there is such a thing as a Purse Forum and yes Mr B, First World Problem par excellence.

I can't even wear this scarf which would really be appropriate.

I confess I saw Faux Fuchsia looking divine in it on her blog so when I saw it in a different colourway on Evil Bay I snapped it up.  

I had to buy it, it has not only zebras but also giraffes on it.

Here's Faux Fuchsia modelling her scarf, see it's all her fault!  Dear FF, sorry to be a copy parrot, hope this is not too Single White Female!! Please don't tell Mrs Danvers.

Meanwhile both boys are now on hols, Boy 1 had to endure 2 more weeks at his school, while Boy 2 already on hols lived the dream of the Single Child.  He set himself a personal challenge to eat a ham and cheese toastie at Costa Coffee every day for a week.  Here he is on day 4 going for broke with 2 of them.  After this I am afraid I called time on this ruinously expensive carry on and suggested he did the summer reading challenge instead like all the other kids.

I know it's only early on in the summer hols but I am quite tempted to try trading one or both of the boys in,  in return for this brand new tiptop executive home on sale in our road.  

But don't worry, I am keeping the Monty Dog.  We are in advanced preparation for our debut in the Commonwealth Games, high jump.  Next thing you know, I will have made a top dog training video, Training for Success.  Cesar Milan, eat your heart out!

Better go, we are now experiencing a slight domestic hiccup: Mr B has run over the dog stake out line (complete with corkscrew stake thingie) with the mower - all of the line/corkscrew metal thing is now wrapped around the blades, it is probs curtains for the mower.  And for the line.

  Mr B tentatively suggested, to look on the bright side, that it was a good job the dog was not attached to it at the time.  I may have said something like "You and that bl**dy mower."  As you do.

Monty Dog and the Prize Paw Draw

How the heck did I get up here?

Dahlings, sorry I had a bit of a hiatus there (but don't worry, I can get it seen to on the National Health).

Grandma Whacker has been to stay.
 

Everyone is impressed when I tell them she drives herself from the Cotswolds to our house (resolutely all the way in the middle lane of the motorway I suspect).  They say things like, " Wow, that's brilliant, at her age," and "Let me know when she is travelling so I can take a different route."  All joking aside, she really is an excellent driver.

Unlike her daughter - today Mr B was washing the car and took me on a trip down memory lane: "This is where you scraped against the scaffolding lorry" and "This is where you hit the skip. "  To be honest I could not remember half of the alleged bumps, but hey, good times, people, good times...   I had a lot to contend with back in our London days, what with the constant problem of finding a parking space, two wriggly toddlers yodelling in the back, in particular Boy 2 (aged 4) who liked to sing along to Johnny Cash "Ring of Fire"...with just a slight time delay so you thought you had a evil pixie echo..

Boy 2

Johnny Cash during his hell raisin' Ring of Fire days before he was tamed by the love of a good woman
taken home for a bath and bed

 

Some of us made slight adjustments to our routine during Grandma Whacker's visit:

Here's Boy 1.

Here's Mr B.  

I think he should market these to all men whose MILs come to stay.  

Now on to business - I finally did the prize paw draw for the book - the brilliant thriller wot my friend wrote.

  It got a great review the other day in the Daily Mail no less, so don't miss it! review here

You will be pleased to hear that the draw was carried out under the strictest conditions.

Protective goggles were worn (almost).

Names were written down on pieces of paper. .

 
 They were then placed into the hi-tech Dogatron (patent pending, the US government is interested in this technology for the next Presidential election).

 

 

 

 

 

 Then our top scrutineer carefully selected, on a totally anonymous basis, one of the pieces of paper.

  

 

.

After a quick lunge and grab operation, we were able to get the paper out of the scrutineer's mouth and the slighty soggy winner is:

 

LPC! 

Dear LPC, congratulations my dear and I shall be in touch! To everyone else, thank you for taking part and sorry you didn't win (but at least you are not covered in dog saliva..)

Right better go, it's Sunday evening here and while Boy 2 has of course broken up from school for a week already ("Daphnes4Boy, A Few Weeks At School, Long Summers by the Pool", registered trade mark) Boy 1 still has one more week to go ("Greggs Grammar, Keeping them off the streets since 1635").

What was I thinking?

What planet was I on when I bought this bread? (on-line)

It's dollshouse size, Nutella toast this morning took ages - had to do about 138 pieces per boy.

And why did I think Monty dog wanted to watch  breakfast TV?  Why did I put the TV on specially for him and leave him in front of Lorraine's Brazilian Bikini Diet special?  Dog very sensibly took himself off and ate a box of tissues instead.  To be honest, after watching 2 minutes of the Diet Special, I was ready to eat a box of Kleenex too.

Why did I order this? (on-line)

It's memory foam, my idea was to increase the comfort levels of Monty Dog's crate.

But somewhow I got enough to carpet the Albert Hall. 

What was I thinking??

And now the darn stuff won't "remember" how to get itself back in its bag, trust me to get memory foam with amnesia.

And finally, these tragic fashion jeans?  WHAT WAS I THINKING??? (on-line)

I blame all those fashion blogs but really, the clue is in the brand name - Forever 21 not Forever 50 almost 51.

I think I can rationalise all this epic sadness by pointing to my lack of prowess with numbers....

Bread 400g? nope, means nothing to me.

Memory foam  X metres x Y metres - no, not a clue

Forever 21 - refers to mental age surely?

Even the dog despairs of me. 

De Retour *

Right dahlings, listen up, haven't got much time before I meet Liz Hurley for lunch/zoom round Tescos etc.

Basically, it's been constant glamour and loveliness here: one very naughty dog, gallons of  mud, one chewed up sofa, two pre-teen/teen boys ("But I had a shower yesterday!"), me and my increasing resemblance to the love child of Norma Desmond and Blanche Dubois and  Mr B, trudging bravely on amid the chaos, hoping for a nice quiet cup of tea and a browse of the Hayter lawnmower catalogue.

Here are some visual aids:


Monty dog the Border terrier as a pup

Monty dog as he is now.

He is IN DISGRACE as, to celebrate  the very first night of our new kitchen floor*, he (stop reading now if you are of a delicate disposition) wee'd on it....and in a most cunning manner: having carefully studied the lay of the land, he chose a spot where almost all evidence ran away UNDER the fridge/freezer.  Nothing says glamour like crouching down shoving a dusting stick thingie under the fridge at 7am shouting, "Actually I hope it is wee, otherwise the freezer is leaking!"

Further visuals:




Mud as experienced as new dog owner during the wettest winter ever.

Bluebells in the woods.

Me grinning like a maniac, with 2 hours worth of make up and special lighting from the film studio (Norma, I told you)  in the lovely MaiTai's collage of ladies wearing their Hermes. Yes, I have caught Scarflet Fever,  a seriously bad dose...

Now, it's not all glamour round here, no, we also nurture ourselves intellectually and culturally:  I have a met a lovely lady while dog walking, she also has a Border Terrier, Maggie (she views Monty with cautious disdain, as he rolls in unspeakable substances or steals other dogs' toys).  Here is a visual of Monty and Maggie, he has a wolfish Jack Nicholson grin as he has finally managed to lure a girl back to his place:

Maggie's owner is not only a Border terrier wrangler, a practising psychologist and mother of two boys but also a newly published author of a thriller.  How impressive is that?  I have read it and it is fab, it had me totally gripped:

Scene  - the kitchen, one night, late
Mr B: What are these meatballs doing here?
Me: (head in book, totally absorbed) They are de-frosting
Mr B (sounding anxious): So shall I just leave them there?
Me: Mmmm, what ? yes.
 Mr B:  (hovering) But will they be ok, they are not in the fridge?
Me: (in ever so slightly exasperated tone): Yeah, they'll be fine
Mr B: But ....
Me: THEY ARE DEFROSTING LEAVE ME ALONE !!!!! UNLESS YOU WANT TO SEEK MEDICAL HELP TO REMOVE MEATBALLS FROM..
Mr B: ok, ok, I was only asking..

Yes, it's the sort of book you can't stop reading, and any interruptions cause resentment possibly followed by violence..

As a bonus, the thriller is partly set in our corner of the world in Buckinghamshire and there is even a passing shout-out to our local Tesco, what more can one want?

Now, to celebrate  compensate for my return to blogging, I am proposing a GIVEAWAY of a SIGNED copy of this book.  All you need to do is
 a) follow my blog and
 b) leave a comment below headed GIVE ME A FREE BOOK, telling me your most recent high glamour moment (either real glamour or my version of "dog wee under fridge"glamour).

All "entries" for the book giveaway should be made by 30 June, I will then write names of all entrants on pieces of paper and see which piece Monty dog tries to eat....that's definitely fair! Of course, if he manages to eat the paper completely we may have to wait a day or so before we get the result...anyone disputing the judge's decision can come and examine the results themselves.

Right, there are strange noises coming from the kitchen, think Monty Dog might be making further improvements to the kitchen floor.


* Pretentious, comme toujours
** Monty Dog ate chunks of the original floor

It was not me...also I appear to have turned into an Ewok thingie from Star Wars