Thank You Letters Sorted

Since childhood I have been a fan of the unsavoury school boy above, Nigel Molesworth. He even has his own entry on Wikipedia!



Imagine my delight when I discovered that the book above contained this ready-made thank you letter, thoughtfully prepared by dear Nigel. This is exactly what Boys 1 and 2 need right now and it should make thank you letters this year relatively painless. I reckon I need only tie them to their chairs for 2 hours this time. Hurrah!!

The book above cost 20p in the UK and 0.65 dollars in Australia back in the Dark Ages. Feeling old. Going for lie down. Then I shall look for the rope. To tie boys to chair. Of course.

Images and excerpt from How to be Topp by Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle, copyright Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle, 1954

Do you like my satsumas?

Happy Christmas Dahlings!

More of that White Fluffy Stuff

So today it really snowed quite a lot. The Met Office predicted a bit of light snow. Hmmm. Drinks on the terrace are probably not on.

Mr Blighty insisted on going up to London to his office, despite the weather and the fact that it is Saturday. He has Something Important he has to Get Out before Christmas. My dire warnings of getting stranded somewhere in the wilds of Harrow on the Hill or Rickmansworth went unheeded. In fact the railway performed magnificiently. Well done Railway! It was the London Underground ( as in under the ground) that was upset by the snow. Strange.

Last night it went down to -18 in our area. Allegedly.

I like the snow as it covers up a multitude of sins, gardening-wise. And I can prance around in a fur hat pretending I am in Dr Zhivago. Mr B always says my moustache reminds him of Omar Sharif's. Haha, Mr B, haha.

I'm a bit nervous about putting our tree on the blog. I am frightened Faux Fuchsia will report me to the Christmas Police for insufficient coverage. But Mr Blighty's Expenses Committee gets very exercised about invoices for fripperies like tree decorations. He really has no idea about what constitutes household essentials in 2010.

Finally, I'd like to remind all you gals of the importance of Keeping Up to the Mark, in terms of personal care. I for one never neglect manicures, pedicures and depilation. I will not let myself go and would never have unkempt toenails and furry legs! Never !

Mrs Blighty Hurled into the Spotlight

Dahlings, due to recent press reports I felt I should inform you all of something my close family and friends have known for some time: I am not in fact Miss Elizabeth Hurley, although I admit it is easy to get us confused. What with us both being women of great glamour, beauty and class, and in Miss Hurley's case, a small stuffed animal with worrying delusions (are you sure this is the right way round??)

I did in fact come across Miss Hurley during the school run in my London days and I did try to take her under my wing and give her a few pointers on dressing stylishly as a mother. But poor dahling, she just couldn't get the hang of it. Day after day I'd see her in sunglasses, little fur jacket and jeans. "No, Elizabeth!" I'd shout, " You must remember to wear your PJs under your anorak for morning drop off, like I do! And for pick up, don't bother washing your hair, just plonk on a woolly hat, but only in summer!" Bless her, she hadn't clue. But she used to smile so sweetly as security dragged me away.


I would also like to explain the paparazzi shot below. Only my lawyer has told me not to. But I would like to make it clear that any rumours about me being in any way acquainted with Australian cricketer Wayne Shorn are completely unfounded.

I have never met the man. And I have certainly never spent hours in a hotel suite with him.

Whoops.

Oat So Disastrous

Dear Mr Quaker



I am writing to express in the strongest possible terms my dissatisfaction with your Oatso Simple instant porridge and the accompanying claims you make for this product.



You jauntily claim that it is "Now only 2 mins to Perfect Porridge". You then add, treachorously, in my view "Psst...measure milk using sachet."



What in God's name are you people thinking? Does the picture below in any way ressemble "Perfect Porridge"??? I think not. (Though I will admit that it did indeed only take me 2 mins to cover Blighty HQ in a light coating of semi-skimmed).



And your handy dandy measuring tip re use of sachet was quite frankly the worst piece of advice since that Marie-Antoinette girl opined on the eating of cake as the way forward for the masses..









And does this look like a Good Morning to you?? I think not.







Finally, I feel further insulted by the jolly little directive on the side of your packet, which I noticed after a couple of hours of manning the bilges, swabbing the decks and other nautical type references which I can't presently come up with.




It seemed completely unnecessary at this stage to point out that in fact I am a complete dosey cow. This has already been more than adequately demonstrated.






I will not be Actioning (TM FauxFuchsia) Oat So Simple for breakfast in future. I will stick with something simple like jugged hare or souffle.



P.S. Dear Quaker Oats, I have now succeeded in making the Oat So Simple under the careful supervision of a grown up i.e. Boy 2 aged 8, and it turns out to be quite delicious, so please ignore my earlier complaints. Any chance of a couple of free boxes? Right ho, thought not.

In Which the Nice Lady from Disney Makes A Young Boy and an Old Mummy Very Happy

On Friday while Boys 1 and 2 were at school, the postman rang the bell at Blighty HQ and handed me this package. Of course, I had no idea who it was from but it was addressed to Boy 2. Very exciting.


When he got home from school, Boy 2 examined the parcel carefully, looking for clues.




Here is an action shot of Boy 2 getting to grips with the package. Don't ask about the green hanky attached to his hand.






Wow! A Wii game. Brill! Apparently this game is much sought after by the Club Penguin cognoscenti.



And look, badges and iron on thingies!



And this is Sensei, he is the Business in Small Boy World. And the coin attached to him is, I am told, super fab, as you log it on the 'puter and this means you get 3 trillion million Club Penguin coins and can buy an IKEA style sofa for your igloo. ( I may have got this a bit wrong but that's the gist of thing, I think).



And a dinky little Club Penguin bag, essential for Puffle transportation.



And make your own Puffle Christmas tree decorations - Boys 1 and 2 set to work, leaving red felt tip pens uncapped on the bed (Standard Operating Procedure, obviously).





Boy 1 stuffed this one with paper to give it extra volume. Nice.




So thank you so much Nice Lady from Disney, that was super generous and kind of you, we are thrilled!


Now listen up Hermes and Rolex, you need seriously to raise your game!


NO BEDCOVERS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS POST, EVEN BY RED FELT TIP PENS. THERE IS A GOD.

Mrs Blighty's Words of Wisdom

Dahlings, I felt I should share with you an essential truth I have garnered from my years of Motherhood (almost, er, 10 years, 10 long years, 10 long hard years, etc).


But be warned: if you were hoping for some perky parenting ideas - "How to carve a selection of vegetables into a replica of the Taj Mahal to encourage your little ones to get their 5 a day" (and then come over all King Herod and murderous when they shout yuck and throw it all on the floor, before having a large gin, obviously it's you having the gin not the kids...) you have come to the wrong place.


The most important piece of parenting advice, and in fact the only piece of parenting advice I feel qualified to impart, is as follows: ( You may wish to prepare yourselves mentally for this, it is really quite profound and actually quite moving, I am tearing up a little even as I type...)



NEVER LET YOUR CHILDREN STICK STICKERS ON THE FURNITURE


Below, Boy 1's bedhead in the process of being de-stickered, broken fingernails de rigueur




But at least I learn from my parenting failures. Boy 2 has certainly not been allowed to run amok with the stickers:
Oh sh*t! When did that happen? And how come I didn't notice??

Now, dear readers, I know that you are all people of great wisdom and excellent experience in dealing with such diverse elements as chihuahuas, exotic birds (feathered or otherwise), snaks, cats, boats, cigar smoking barristers, high end luxury goods, and even that most scary manifestation of wildlife, small boys and girls. What advice can you give me?

Pretty Cold

When I looked outside this morning at about 7.30am, this is what I saw.


We togged up for the walk to school. Part of getting ready involved an energetic bout of something the boys called Wooly Hat Wrestling. The rules of WHW are quite fluid. Rugby tackling seems to feature, as well as boxing and judo moves.

The walk took a bit longer due to the need to inspect the snow. Boy 2 also seemed to find the drain fascinating.

Boy 1 spent more time looking backwards than forwards, probably as he was pelting Boy 2 with snowballs.

There was an awkward moment when I stopped Boy 1 going into the school building carrying a huge snowball. " No snowballs inside" I said, with authority. He stopped, and scouted round for a target outside. Oh no, not the Headmaster, please no! (Headmaster was standing close by, discussing with groundsman the effect of weather on plans for new Orangerie, ornamental Japanese garden and peacock enclosure).

My fears were unfounded. Paf! The snowball hit me bang on the chin. Bless.

Cold

Even at midday the ground is frozen

Things have gone downhill since Faux Fuchsia left these shores, taking glamour, beauty, charm and the England cricket team with her (it's true, they are in Australialand as we speak).

It has become very cold. All glamour is gone. My favourite accessories are my thermal vest and a tissue for my drippy nose.

Even Boys 1 and 2 have given in and are wearing vests, jumpers, hats and gloves, though under protest and after an epic battle of wits, force, low cunning and gratuitous use of insults.

Small boy in normal attire

Thermal underwear mandated by Mummy

Snow is expected here soon. Oop North where Lovely B is, there has already been lots of snow. Lovely B does not approve but she is not letting it get in the way of her Christmas shopping. We have already received a Severe Warning about our failure to provide her with our Christmas list on time. Apparently it's on the 25th this year.

Mr Blighty has been enjoying the weather, sitting chuntering at the TV info pages, exclaiming happily: " Minus 17 last night in Powys, unheard of, unbelievable." Bless him, at least it gives him an interest in life other than the disastrous fortunes of Newcastle United: "17- 0, well could have been worse I suppose.."

I ventured down town today and everybody, but everybody, was wearing a hat of some sorts; Russian style fur hats seem to be very much in vogue. Indeed, what with the hats and the cold and the grey I felt I was in a pre-Gladnost Eastern bloc country. This impression was strengthened in the bank: the cashier, an Eastern European girl straight from Central Casting was having a remarkably unfruitful conversation with a customer:

Customer: I was given this account number and told the account would be open today

Cashier: Number not mean anything, there is no account, is nothing on computer

Customer: Oh

Cashier: is not there, is nothing

Customer: how about we start again, and open a new account now?

Cashier: is not possible, is internet account, is opening only on line, not in branch

Customer (weeping) : Right ho, thank you very much

Cashier: you go open on line, you go now

And when I exited the bank I saw this dog. I am definitely now living in Russia. Her name is Kim and she is a Siberian Huskey, apparently.

But I am not going to go to the dogs, sartorially (ooh, did you note what I just did there, what a slick link that was, I could be on TV!). Cold weather is an excellent excuse to wear daft hats and embarass your children at school pick up.

The Miss Marple Special

The lux leopard

The James Bond film Russian spy - so James, the microfilm is hidden down your trousers, yes?

Also the cold weather is a good reason to stay in and play with my new nail polish, a birthday present from Lovely B. What lusciousness! Note the small boys' paws all over - probably just checking no sweeties hidden in the parcels.

I was also given these books from Grandma W. Note the 3 for 2 sticker. Where's the other book? I asked (tact is my middle name). I'm reading it, replied Grandma, cheerfully.

Finally some important Puffle news. After my last post, a nice lady from Disney got in touch. Hello nice lady from Disney! She may have some goodies for Boy 2. I just know that any day now Hermes and Rolex are going to empty their warehouses in my direction. Yay!

Maybe the nice lady from Disney has some advice on controlling your Puffle in a restaurant?

It was last spotted riding around the carousel at Yo!Sushi, thankfully no one tried to eat him.

Puffletastic

You have to be the mother of a small person to recognise what these are.

No, I have not been experimenting with knitting or doing some weird hamster breeding programme.

These are Puffles.

As I watched too many home decorating programmes in my youth, I have of course popped them into a dinky little basket, Linda Barker style.

This is what they look like.

Each colour has a different face, I am told.

To me they are just a lump of stuffed fabric which retails for £6 a go. £6 for a lump of fabric?!! Has the world gone mad?!

But if you are Boy 2 and so 8 years old and obsessed by a virtual computer world called Club Penguin, then these are the business. Apparently.

You have been warned.

P.S. I imagine that, even as I type this, there is a Puffle magnate sipping Dom Perignon and relaxing on his yacht somewhere..

Some important Royal news!

I am so thrilled to announce my engagement to Prince Will.i.am. Such a surprise (particularly to Mr Blighty and the boys). But it is sooo important for our future King and for the country to have a crazed marsupial with excellent fashion sense and top level accessorisation skills filling this position. So I felt I had to say yes. Also the bling really sealed the deal.

I know all you girls are dying for a close up of the rock.

Isn't just adorable? And it fitted perfectly, did not have to be re-sized at all to be rammed onto my paw.

Must dash dahlings, I have to get the Archbishop of Canterbury to re-arrange his diary, he will just have to cancel the tambourine workshop weekend away, I need some serious wedding planning.

P.S. Don't believe what you read in the media about that girl Kate Middleton. She is not even in the running.

Bathtime Blues

Le Grand Bleu, chez Blighty

All of you who have children will know how hard it can be to get small people into bath and bed.

I can remember my mother having to chide the 9 or 10 year old me up each individual stair, and me acting like a particularly stupid goat (eating those rubber gloves really was taking it too far). What a suprise that my children are quite frankly uber-annoying at times. I think it's what's known as payback.

My latest scheme is to provide an exciting bathing experience. As toddlers, Boys 1 and 2 loved those bath colours you can get from toyshops.

I have discovered Lush, an English company that makes all sorts of weird and wonderful lotions and potions. The nail polish bloggers swear by their Lemony Flutter. It is apparently tops for your cuticles.

Lush do lots of bath bombs. I picked out a few, and must say they make my drawers smell lovely. (HaHa, Mr B, HaHa).

Below, this one is called Dragon's Egg. Most intriguing. Boy 1 gave it the thumbs up.

Even has a yoke!

This one is Big Blue. I thought it looked and smelt wonderful.

But Boy 2 objected : " What's that in the bottom? That stuff? That pooey stuff?"

Me: "It's seaweed, it's supposed to be therapeutic."

Boy 2: " I don't want thera poo in my bath."

Boy 2 insisted on trying to fish all the seaweed strands out of the bath, which ended with bits stuck on the side of the bath, the floor and his hands. My voice got ever so slightly shrill.

Note to self: Boy 2 perhaps not ready for the full spa experience.

In Which Mrs B meets Faux Fuchsia in Real Life!!

Faux Fuchsia at Malene Birger, London

Yesterday was beyond exciting! I met up with the divine Faux Fuchsia in London. She is on a world tour, generally cheering up the troops and boosting the morale of people everywhere.

I was Nervous! The boys calmed my nerves by a soothing chorus of " Mummy's going to get murdered! " Nice.

I looked out my best Mummy cardigan, one with not too much dried mashed potato on it.

I did my nails in OPI Dulce di Leche which is good as does not show up if chips!!

I was so excited I took the boys to school in my slippers! Luckily they do not look too much like slippers but really!

FF is, to steal a phrase from her Hungarian friend, Luffly! She looks gorgeous, so glamorous, heads were turning, I jest not (or maybe they were impressed by my clean-ish cardigan?) And all on only a couple of hours sleep (due to jet lag, and her young nephew wanting to party at 4 am in the morning!) And she looks very young, don't be taken in by all that talk she does on her blog about collapsing face!

And she so nice and soooo funny!

We had a fab time. Trouble is, I was so excited and talking so hard I kept forgetting to take photos. But don't worry, FF has got it covered.

We did ceremonial exchanging of gifts. FF gave me this scrummy Hermes perfume, all orangey and citrussy, lovely! And a super pashmina. I felt very spoilt!

I gave her some Chanel lipstick, the girl in the shop told me it was the shade Vanessa Paradis wore in the ad. Watch out for Johnnie Depp, FF!

We "actioned" a trip to Malene Birger in Marylebone High Street. ( I kept doing this really cool thing of saying, it's this way, I know my way around town, and then going off in the wrong direction, and FF would find the way..)

The we tripped the light fantastic in Harvey Nicks, where we were ladies who lunched! Over lunch we workshopped (copyright FF phrase) lots of important issues like Chanel lipstick, nail polish and hair!

<

Puddings were involved.


I thought this PVC number would be practical for me as a Mummy as could be sponged down but FF advised against, something about being too much for poor old Mr B!

We examined Halston for bargains, and pretended we were Bianca Jagger in Studio 54.

And then, because one top drawer department store was not enough, we whizzed off to Libertys!

And then all too soon I had to go back to Blightyland and collect da Boys. Talk about back to earth with a bump!

So thank you for a lovely day out FF, it was a pleasure to meet you.

P.S. Buy the dress!

P.P.S After spending a few hours together I swear I was doing the upward inflection at the end of sentences Aussi Style? And FF was doing the English downwards thing at the end of phrases - or maybe I just wore her out?!!