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

Fifty Socks of Grey by E L Blighty

"Holy Crap!" gasped Anastasia, "That's just enormous....huge...!!!"
"And all for you Anastasia, " growled Christian Blighty, charismatic, damaged and dangerous - the sort of Top Executive parliamentary draftsman that knew his way round semi-colons...a guy who put syncopation in his punctuation.

Anastasia's Inner Goddess did an exotic pole dance, before putting her back out and having to be helped to her seat.

Yes, it was truly the biggest pile of unsorted socks Anastasia had ever seen.

"And now", said Christian Blighty, "I am going to take you to the White Room of  Pain..."
"Oh no, not the utility room," groaned AnagoshthisnameislongcanIjustcallherNasty?, her Inner Goddess breaking wind gently and lighting up a fag.

"Yes," was Christian's masterful reply.  "And there you will do something you have never done before..  you will sort the socks into pairs and put them away in your drawers... yes, there you have it, it's my tremendous Sox Appeal.."

Yep, dahlings, almost everyone I know has read or is reading Those Books*.  Except me.  I am resisting, out of sheer contrariness...I just enjoy reading reviews of them and listening to other mothers discussing them:

"I was up to 3am reading it."
"Some of those things are just not physically possible."
"I told my husband I was off to bed to read it - when he joined me ever hopeful, I was fast asleep with my reading glasses on."
"Mrs Blighty, sorry but you can't stand here with us, you have to go stand over there with the other people who have not read it; yes, Mr Pinkerton, the retired headmaster, oh, wait a minute, he's read it now too.."

 A friend even updated her Facebook page with"It's all coming to an end with Mr Grey."

And when I looked at Grain de Musc the perfume blog of Denyse Beaulieu, I found that she is currently working on the French translation of 50 Shades ....it's everywhere I turn!

I suspect my refusal to join the Greyfest is largely motivated by jealousy - I wish I had penned a bestseller like this.  Although any mommy porn I author is going to be less erotic and more idiotic. ...

"I want you now, here, in the escalator," demanded Christian urgently.
"Are you sure? "
"Yes, there is just something about escalators."
"No, I mean, don't you mean "elevator" not "escalator"?" queried Anaethesia, breathlessly; "We don't want to get anything caught in the moving parts and the other shoppers might not like it.."
"You damn bourgeois fool you," blazed Christian, as they arrived at Home Furnishings.



* 50 Socks Of Grey
Paddington Bear At Large
Grey Underpants In My Sink

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...

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

Reading between the lines with perfumes and Loulou La Bicyclette

As can be seen from the title, any attempt at well-thought out, themed posts has now been abandoned! Welcome to the world of Blighty's head, a place so muddled, it makes the inside of our garden shed look like a showhome!

Now the dust has settled a bit, I have had the chance to look through some of the piles of exercise books the boys brought home at the end of term. I suppose I should welcome the chance to wonder at my boys' academic endeavours. But, unfit mother that I am, my instinctive reaction is always "Jeez, all that paper, quick, where's the recycling bin?"

However, I did enjoy some bits of the work mountain.

First, Boy 1 shows great promise for a career in diplomacy, and has inherited his mother's tendency to Do a Joke to Death:

Above, he invents a mythical creature called the Deatheater. It only eats teachers.


Got that? It only kills teachers and headmasters

Just in case we missed it - only dangerous to teachers

Let's be clear - teacher is food.

Next, Boy 2 demonstrates great cunning in the way he fills up the page by clever use of repetition, I foresee a career as a tabloid journalist or possibly a politician.

This is from Boy 2's account of a trip to see old WW2 planes at RAF base. Remember, whenever you mention an old war plane called a Vulcan, you put big big big big in front of it. Nifty or what?

Boy 2 has already got the hang of thrift, as practised by Blighty (no matter how many times Mr B explains to me that the best way to save money is Not to Spend It, I remain unable to ignore the siren call of the Bogof):

This is part of an account of what Boy 2 did in his hols:" we went to the shopping centre to buy some football there was a really good deal buy two get one free so we did it." Ha, my work bringing up that child is done!

Now I must broach a painful subject. Do you recall that ill-advised interview poor Princess Diana gave about her divorce - along the lines of there were three people in the marriage, it was a bit crowded? Well, there are three of us in my marriage. Here is my rival, Loulou. She is French. She was already living with Mr B when I met him. In his flat. In his bedroom. The trollop!

She has gel implants, she is seriously enhanced. And very trendy tribal tattoos.
And she has been using my nail polish, the cheek!

She has been with Mr B longer than me, he met her in Belgium and they used to go around hand in hand(lebar). She is sleek and fast. She has moved with Mr B from place to place, she is better travelled than I am.
Actually though, I have come to feel sorry for Loulou. Since those heady early days, Mr B has neglected her. She spends all her time in the garage, never feeling the wind in her tires. He has not taken her out for years. She feels flat. Every now and then I go and chat with her. We have come to a truce, for Mr B does not take me out much either these days, but thankfully he does not leave me in the garage. Normally.
Poor Loulou. I am considering signing her up with this exclusive dating agency called Ebay, to see if I can find her a new man who will take her out and about.
How do I get from bikes to perfumes?I know. Loulou is French. Lots of perfume is French, there, easy! I have been longing to post on perfumes for ages - a while ago Mrs Trefusis did a great post on perfume http://mrstrefusis.blogspot.com/. Also Life happens between Books is a serious perfume addict, she has introduced me to Perfume Court, where you can buy samples of all sorts of perfumes of all types - classic, boutique. I am seriously tempted! http://lucyfishwife.blogspot.com/
Here is my current lot.

Above , L'Artisan Parfumeur Mure et Musc, and Tea for Two. Tea for Two is warm and spicy, for winter I think. Mure et Musc is quite subtle and soft, Mr B bought it for me from their shop on Marylebone High Street. The sales guy apparently took quite a shine to Mr B and gave him a complimentary hand massage. Mr B did look a bit flustered when he got home. I imagine the guy is called Serge, like the guy from Beverly Hills Cop who asks Eddie Murphy if he wants a cappucino, with a twist of lemon..

Below, on the left is Jo Malone Dark Amber and Ginger Lily. To me it smells of coconut and I think it's delicious, but the scent lingers and maybe it's a bit cloying. Should a scent linger like that?

In the middle is Darphin Cedre Precieux, woody, mellow.



What scents do you all like? Please tell, I love reading about what perfumes people wear!



Below, Acqua di Parma. Note to self - pay attention at all times, this is Room Spray!
Additional Elf and Safety Warning: do not think you can take small boys into perfume department of large store without fitting them, you and everyone else with protective goggles, I tried and within 3 mins Boy 1 had sprayed himself in the eye with Chanel no 5. Which is a good choice if you have to do that kind of thing.


Finally two "vintage" dresses - one on left from TopShop in Oxford Circus vintage bit, one on right was my mothers, I had it let out, she was slimmer than me! Question: if I wear these, will I look like an aging Sandra Dee in Grease, and if so, does that mean I have to end up wearing spray on satin trousers? Yikes. I'll leave spray on stuff to the perfume department.