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:

 

 

Blighty fights back against Dr Spamkenstein

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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.

Dropping by Debo's

Dahlings, this post is dedicated to my first and favourite Blog Crush, the lovely Faux Fuchsia. 

In her honour I attempting it in the style of the FF blog.  But remember, at best this is Faux Fuchsia Lite, do not settle for imitations, get the genuine designer article here.

So when ole FF came over to these here parts last year she and I took a little road trip to Swinbrook in the Cotswolds.  We checked out where the Mitford sisters grew up, the churchyard where Nancy Mitford is buried and the pub that Debo (the youngest and only surviving Mitford sister) owns.

Here's a visual of Nancy's gravestone.

Ole FF wanted also to hotfoot it up to the Peak District for the day, to see Chatsworth, the estate of which ole Debo became chatelaine, when she married the Duke of Devonshire.

But I had to explain it was too far.  I know. I was disappointed too.

But during my recent trip Up North, the Universe directed me to Live on the Edge and go to Chatsworth.  I do what I am told.

Here's Debo when young.

Here's Debo painted by ole Lucien Freud.  'Spensive.

Here's Debo photographed more recently. She now lives in the old vicarage on the Chatsworth Estate and is over 90 and quite frail. The house itself is now run by her son the Duke of Devonshire and his wife. They have an appartment on the first floor.

Here is a Singer Sargent portrait of an earlier Duchess of Devonshire, think she was called Eveyln.

Modern portrait of the Duke's daughter in law, Laura, Lady Burlington - reminds me of FF's pic on her blog

This wallpaper was handmade in China, based on measurements for the room and then sent back in huge rolls; it is apparently the Devil's Work to fit as it is a continuous, not a repeat, pattern

You can walk up these steps if you want; like most stately homes these days there were lots of modern sculptures scattered about the traps

This is the Imperial Fountain, one of the Dukes wanted a fountain higher than that of his friend, the Russian Tsar.  His friend refused to come see it.

The house was sumptuous.

This is what the outside looks like. Don't look at the scaffolding people, imagine it's not there.  That's what I did.

They have lots of bits.  I was ready to question their comittment to De-Cluttering, what with Clutter being the Devil's Work.  But I got talking to the waitress in our hotel and she told me they had had teams from Sotheby's worldwide staying with them for months, preparing a sale - the ole Duke and Duchess had decided to clear out one of their 5 attics.  The sale was a Big Deal.  Jerry Hall and Madonna came.  Exciting.  So glad they action de-cluttering too.

I was shocked, shocked I tell you at the Undercushioning on this bed.

Look! Ginger jars, just like FF has in the Fuchsiadome!

There you are People - Chatsworth.  

Run, don't Walk!