Festival of Fuchsia

Dahlings, it's been excitement overload.  I've been participating in the Festival of Fuchsia.  Dear FF, as you no doubt know, has been Over Here on a Garden Tour and to visit her sister in London.  I was thrilled to go to Paris with her and her sister for the weekend.

Dahlings, I felt I had died and gone to heaven as I climbed onto the Eurostar with FF, her sis and their matching Chanel handbags.

The trip was eventful, not least because a dastardly clipboard wielding pickpocket relieved me of my iPhone on the rue de Rivoli.

So no Paris pics from me.

But I did spend an entertaining hour in the Commissariat de police, tormenting the clerk with my French.  I can report that the police in France seem as preoccupied with snacks as the police here: important phone calls took place where the number of sugars in coffee was clarifed; beefy armed cops strolled in bearing cakes and biscuits; other police operatives helped themselves to buns and chocolate.  I innocently asked them if they watched the French cop drama Spiral (Engrenages) and had to dig my nails in my hand to prevent hysterical laughter when the clerk told me in all seriousness that Spiral was an accurate depiction of their professional life.  I must have missed the scenes involving hot chocolate and doughnuts...

Well FF may have shown me Chanel and Hermes, and her sister took us to the most lovely restaurants, but I feel I did my bit by showing them the inside of a police station....


FF gave me this lovely silk scarf from Honkers so I scarfed it up in a jaunty Parisian fashion.

On Sunday we strolled round the Place des Vosges and poked our noses into the Pavillon de la Reine Hotel, in a courtyard off the Place.  Mr B and I spent our first wedding anniversary there. Here's a visual from those days, one of us now has less hair and one of us can no longer fit into that skirt (really wish Mr B would stop wearing my clothes...)

And what did I bring home from Paris?

Sugar lumps.

Yes, I know, odd, but I adore the way the French do the small things in such a dinky, charming way and sugar lumps are one of them.


It was so lovely to catch up with dear FF, we talked nonstop on the Eurostar all the way there and all the way back.  I'd just like to apologise to the man in seat 67 (outward) and the man in seat 32 (return); sorry about your headaches but I do think trying to climb out of the train when it was hitting 150mph was a bit extreme...

Cool Britannia in Scotland

So we went on a minibreak to Edinburgh.

We did all the usual tourist bits. 

 

The boys loved the Camera Obscura, which has all sorts of optical illusions on display.

Boy 1 really enjoyed seeing Boy 2 like this.

 

 

This is the view from the top of the Camera.

I enjoyed visiting the Royal Yacht Britannia, now permanently on display at Leith.  It appealed to my nosy, looking around someone's house, side.

The Queen had a very modest single bed on the yacht.

And so did Prince Philip.

 

Life on board was very hierarchical, with different messes for the different ranks.  This chap deserves to be court martialled.

The yacht was a self sufficient organism - including a huge laundry for all those white naval uniforms.  The Captain had to change outfits up to 18 times a day!

Here are some views from Edinburgh Castle.

  

Fortunately for my ears and world peace in general,  I stopped Boys 1 and 2 buying anything in this shop:

 

 

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...

Blighty in Paris

Dahlings, I've just had a mini break  in Paris with Mr B and the boys.

Here's a list of things our trip did not involve:
Hermes
Chanel
Cartier
Louis Vuitton
Rue Cambon
Place Vendome

Here are some of the things it did offer us:
cranes
grumpy waiters
graveyards
strictly regulated grass
some famous painting or other
cakes
architecture

Cimetiere de Montparnasse

Louvre with cranes

Spot of rain in Montmartre

Jardins de Luxembourg - pelouse interdite

Jardins de Luxembourg - pelouse autorisee

Pompy Poo Centre (as referred to by Boys 1 and 2)

Mrs B carries out impromptu nit check at top of L'Arc de Triomphe

Mr B goes all arty with the camera

It was great fun, we had a lot of laughs - some at my expense after I dragged everyone to the Telegraphe metro station as I had read on the internet there were great views from there.  We arrive - yes, we are high up, views no, as we are surrounded by buildings.  I imagine some geeks from MIT caught us on their net cam  - "yay, Eric, we got some more losers who fell for the old Telegraph Metro joke.."

And the whole trip was not in vain either from an educational point of view - once we got home, Boy 2 modestly ventured that he could actually speak some French - and rattled off,
"Peux-je aller aux toilettes, s'il vous plait Madame?"
My bosom swelleth, as they say.

Sussex-Full Weekend*

A couple of weeks ago we spent a lovely weekend with our lovely friends  in their lovely house in lovely rural Sussex (can I write for Hello magazine now please?)

Their house which dates from medieval and Tudor times is full of  interesting and eye-catching details.


Like this chimney and half-timbering.

And there are lots of beams inside.

This is the sitting room.  Our friends lived in Shanghai for a while, hence the striking Chinese art.

I love the colours of this vase.



And these tiles around the fireplace in the guest bedroom are charming.

The basins are from China too. 

This is an old bread oven.

The fireplace in the sitting room gives away our friends' past in the Royal Navy.  I used the sword to force Mr B up the aisle at our wedding Mr B and I used the sword to cut the cake at our wedding.

 

This made me laugh - on the wall in the loo.

K and S, thank you for a great weekend and thank you for letting me show bits of your home on the old blog.

*Not, Sex Full, no, that would be rude, Successful, geddit? Yes I know these puns are just ghastly but it's my blog and I'll pun if I want to.