Not suitable for people with irony deficiency and
cannot guarantee nut-free

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Woof woof?

Dahlings, how are you?  Anyone left out there? It's been so long!

But I have a great excuse. 

Remember I wanted to get one of these.

Well, I went and got one of these.

Meet Monty B, Official Dog of the Blighty Blog.

He's a Border Terror  Terrier and his full name is Montmorency de Monfort de Montalbano de Naughty Pants (ok, no it's not, it's just we all enjoy elaborating on his name as none of us can agree what Monty stands for, that's the problem with naming by committee;  I wanted to call him something soppy like Ambrose or Quentin, while the boys favoured Killer or Poop, so Mr B set up a committee and a working party and a compromise name was hammered out...)

Monty and me have been going to puppy training classes, first we did Puppy Pre-School where we got out paws stuck in our collar and our lead tangled round the chair;  then we graduated to Puppy Primary where we ate a lot of sausage and lay in the grass with our legs in the air.  I know, I am a disgrace, at least Monty was well behaved...

The puppy training lady told us it was VITAL to socialise. 

So I did what she said and went to Ascot.

In the distance is the Queen, in blue, giving out a prize

Also I went to the Capital Radio Summertime Ball at Wembley. Saw Justin Timberlake and Taylor Swift, among others.

Sat next to these young men.  And felt old.

And I went to lunch during the Festival of Fuchsia at Balthazar in Covent Garden, London, where I saw not only FF but also Janet from Gardener's Cottage, Tabitha from Bourbon and Pearls and Romy 

OK, so maybe it was the dog who was meant to be seeing new people and places....but at least I am well socialised ...I hardly ever bite the postman's legs now.

Must go, got a bicycle to chase.

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

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...

Inside Engrenages

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...