Turnips and Hermes

Below, crowded Kings Cross train station last week. Lovely B was about to take the train back to Newcastle. Kings Cross is not a nice station, especially now compared to St Pancras which has been greatly tarted up since Eurostar has moved there. But renovation work is underway in Kings Cross too. I was greatly amused by Elf and Safety announcements reminding us that cycling, skateboarding and rollerblading were not permitted in the station. So easy to forget and attempt a triple halfpipe on top of all those people. Bye Bye Lovely B! I felt quite folorn, but pulled myself together. I am a grown up, independent woman of today! A lady spoke to me as I was leaving the Kings Cross loos. I had noticed she had been glancing in my direction. I was looking quite smart that day: posh frock on and no obvious foodstuffs on my face. I prepared myself to accept the anticipated compliment graciously. "Excuse me" whispered the lady, "I think you've got your dress tucked up at the back". Oh god, a skirt in knickers situation. Lovely B, come back, I can't last 5 minutes without you, see what happens!



After this unsettling incident I took the bus to Selfridges. I had an idea of buying Mr Blighty some posh decaff coffee. This sign caught my eye. When did turnips become upmarket enough to be sold in Selfridges foodhall? Is there a whole department for them? No sign of any today, maybe not turnip season. Shades of Blackadder's downtrodden stooge, Baldrick, whose dream was to have his very own turnip one day.

Gosh, Baldrick's gone blonde!

No luck with the coffee but I noticed they stock Australian healthfood.

And that stuff Aussies are supposed to put in their sandwiches.

Good grief, has the world gone mad? £16 for tea? Miller Harris are better know for perfumes, maybe you drink half and then splash the rest over yourself??

After the heady atmosphere of the turnip department, I needed to get more down to earth, so I went to the Hermes shop inside Selfridges. I channelled the lovely MaiTai and tried to look nonchalant, as though I pop into Hermes all the time. The sales assistant was not fooled. He asked me to stop taking pictures - ha, too late mate! I ended up telling him all about MaiTai's blog, as otherwise I thought he might call Security and they would work me over in the basement. Worked like a dream, he was very interested and I wrote down her name for him. I think it is very important Hermes know what a fabulous brand ambassadress MaiTai is - before I discovered her blog, I never even knew I wanted a Hermes scarf, now I am getting myself noticed as a security threat in their store!

Below, sumptuousness of their bangles. Drool!

Tiger, tiger etc

Slobber!

The deliciousness of the scarves - dribble!

Below, I think these are called Twillys, MaiTai, help, need your expertise!

No shopping post would be complete without some nail porn. Selfridges stock OPI, good to know!
I considered buying Lincoln after Dark, FF has it. But there is also Lincoln after Midnight - maybe FF has this? It all got too much, plus more expensive in Selfridges than in my humble beauty wholesalers!

Below, very smart OPI set up but I am rather worried by the girl on the right, she seems to be pouring nail varnish over her body, very sloppy technique! The Nail Polish Hoarder would not approve!

Below, view of Selfridges from the balcony of M&S cafe, never knew the balcony was there before.

In M&S I bought Mr Blighty some clothes, since my coffee search had been fruitless and I felt guilty about spending money on everyone except him. Mr B used to be very designer, Armani suits and ties, Ralph Lauren, but Since Children he has scaled back, bless him, and hardly ever buys clothes. Most of this did not pass the Mr Blighty test of not looking sissy but surprisingly he likes the flowery shirt. Yes, Mr Blighty, don't be afraid to get in touch with your inner flower child!

And that is quite enough shopping for the time being! It was tough, all the eating, drinking, and shopping that Lovely B and I did. But I kept focused, kept going, there were hard times, gruelling times, testing and challenging, I had to dig deep. But it was worth it, Lovely B gave me an award. So proud!

Blighty and Lovely B - Living the Dream

Lovely B and I continued to live it up, big-time, during her stay.

Below, we were invited by friends to an impromptu lunch and to watch the England v Germany World Cup match. The husband is an amazing cook and whipped up this paella and made this designer salad. Yum! Meanwhile SuperK, wife to SuperHub and mother of three, had just done a run for charity in the blistering heat. She took it all in her stride that her house had been invaded by the Blighty brigade, went and showered and reappeared in 5 minutes looking fab with impeccable blow dried hair. I was impressed. In her place I would have hidden in the garden until everyone had gone home, and then booked into a rest home for 3 months. Sadly I had to leave early with Boy 2 - as many of you know, he was distraught and inconsolable when Germany scored their first goal, and had to go home for emergency application of ice cream and quality computer time. Thank goodness he missed the England disallowed goal, he would have been apoplectic!

Behold the gloriousness of the paella!


And the beautiful salad arrangement

A few days later Lovely B and I sallied forth to London on the train. Last year I made B get some culcha at the National Portrait Gallery. This year we headed straight to the big Marks & Spencer flagship store at Marble Arch. We stormed through that place! I was brought up on M&S, in fact I suspect my mother got me from M&S, it is definitely in my DNA.

Above and below, we noticed a worrying trend: tops sold with a necklace included. Very worrying, very Stepford Wives, I thought. M&S want us all to go round properly and identically accessorised. You have been warned! Don't linger too long in the store or you will be replaced by a perfect, eager to please automaton replica of yourself. Mr B wants me to go there again. To the reprogramming department.

It was lucky that Lovely B was with me. She found me mesmerised by these, muttering to myself, "must buy, must have". These are the scary cousin of TODs: Leggings from Hell.
Lovely B proceeded with an intervention. She was tough, but it needed doing.

We had another tricky moment later. "Move away from the unsuitable skirt" said B firmly. I whimpered (a bit like Golum and his Precious) but obeyed.

What is it with me and surgical bandage pink?

Lovely B and I tried stuff on. I tried this Roman gladiator outfit. It was not a success, but would have frightened the lions away.

After waiting for hours, Lovely B had to come rescue me from Changing Room Attire Panic - I always seem to get in a muddle trying things on. The fun I had struggling into a full length wetsuit a couple of years ago! The general fraughtness was intensified by Boys 1 and 2 whipping the changing cubicle curtains open every couple of minutes. Bless. After only 4 hours of struggling, I emerged red-faced but triumphant, only to be told I had got the blasted thing on back to front. Those James Bond girls never have all this trouble!

Since our retail rampage I have returned almost all my purchases, including multiple school trousers for boys, which was the good mother bit of the day and the Mr Blighty Expenditure Committee official purpose for M&S trip.

However, I kept these, which I LOVE. But look,the sequin arrangement is not done the same on each shoe! However, since my size seems to be sold out now, I have decided to put up with their imperfections (as they will have to put up with mine!)

And don't worry that I am under-curated, clothes-wise - I have swapped for these tops instead, also returning that peasant top thingie I got from Zara, the beige one I showed you before. I am adept at retail arbitrage and creative accounting, I could teach those guys at Enron a thing or two. ....oh, now I see what Mr B is worried about!

Bit anxious someone might mistake me for a paper doily and put a cake on me, note to self: stay away from tea shops. On the other hand, shame to pass up chance of free cake.

Below, only cost £10 as from big kids H&M, sometimes it pays to have junior bosoms.

But does it look too ickle girlie?

Here we go again - many happy returns!

MRS T PICKED ME ME ME !

Mrs G

Mathieu Frenchbloke


Chap from Pirates of the Caribbean

I am beyond honoured. The very sophisticated and glam Mrs Trefusis (one of The Times 100 best blogs, wow!) http://mrstrefusis.blogspot.com/ tagged me to do a meme. I am not quite sure what a meme is and have no idea how it is even pronounced (mimi or meme like French for same? what is its derivation? why are we here? why do they put those annoying loopy tags in clothes?) But ignorance of what I am doing has never held me back (heck, I posed as a lawyer for years without being found out) so here goes!


What experience has most shaped you, and why?When I was about 4 or 5 I was sent to ballet classes like most small girls. My mother thought it would do me good, get me out of the house on a Saturday morning, instead of hanging around whining to watch unsuitable television or having tantrums when my FuzzyFelt wouldn't do what I wanted. Come the village summer fete, I was made chief bunny in charge of other smaller bunnies. We were dressed in white fur fabric tunics, bulky, with holes for our pink little arms and legs to stick out, a bunny helmet thing with ears, and the final indignity, a bunny tail sewed onto our bottoms. To add injury to insult, my best friend, naturally better at everything than me, was a Hawaiian dancing girl and got to wear a grown up style bikini top and grass skirt and dance with the pretty dance teacher and other girls. As chief bunny I was to lead the bunnies out and we would all hop round, I was supposed to count up to 25 hops or something; then we were to stop and do some other lame thing like twitch our noses or wiggle our ears...after about 9 hops I lost count, but it didn't matter. Behind me total chaos had descended: small bunnies were sitting down, removing socks, crying for their mummies, trying to pull off each others' bunny ears and tails, or hopping off into the sunset. Complete and utter shambles. Disgraceful.

But that day I learnt a number of very important things about myself. First, I am not leadership material. Secondly, that white man-made fabrics do not suit me. Thirdly, I will never work for Hugh Hefner.

If you had a whole day with no commitments, what would you do?
Sh*t, do you mean I am supposed to actually do stuff when the boys are in school? I thought that was all "me" time!
(Dear Mr B, I am joking you know, my days involve domestic activities of unparalleled goodness etc)

I always have fantasies about staying in bed reading all the lovely books I want to read but in real life I would get itchy-pitchy after 10 minutes..so probably a trip on Eurostar to Paris and a visit to a lovely museum - have not been to Musee D'Orsay for years; and a visit to a nice patisserie!

What food or drink could you never give up?In theory I could give up anything but as soon as I had renounced it, it would become the one and only thing I craved! Cornichon anyone?

If you could travel anywhere, where would that be and why?
I am embarrassingly not well travelled outside of Europe. I have only seen bits of the States (mainly airports and a very swish hotel place in California called San Ysidro Ranch, where we were told the Kennedys spent their honeymoon). So I would like to travel all over the US, I have plans about Mr B's retirement and a Winnebago. Mr B is more in favour of Bournemouth. I would also like to take my mother to the Bahamas as she lived there for 3 years when young, but I expect it has changed so much she would not approve!

Who do you have a crush on?A while ago a friend sent me a question thing about who you would like to be trapped in a lift with. I came up with an odd collection of characters. One I can remember is a French actor, Mathieu Almaric. He has been in a couple of French films I enjoyed (Kings and Queens, Heartbeat Detector) as well "Munich" and the last James Bond film. I also admit to having a little thing for Tom Hollander, as he is the baddie in the interminable Pirates of the Caribbean films, currently running non-stop in Boy World Cinema, and I keep hoping against hope he might do for boring, boring Keira and Orlando.

If you were leader of your country, what would you do?If? If? When, more like! As founder and leader of the Blighty United Reform Party I expect to take power really soon. BURP's key policies are free spa days for all mothers of boys under 10; manicures to be available on the National Health; and French Vogue to be available for loan at local libraries.

Give me one easy savoury recipe that doesn't include cheese.Soft boiled egg and soldiers (bread buttered and cut into strips, not men in uniform...although...)

What did you think you were going to be when you grew up?
Grown up. Ha! How wrong I was!

If you could spend just one day in someone else's body, who would it be?Don't ever ask this question of a male blogger, please.

As for me, I would choose to be a small boy of 6 and I would spend most of the day drinking loads of water and visiting the loo. This is for my important research project into why their aim is so bad. I am convinced that there is a Nobel prize in it.


Which woman writer - living or dead - do you most admire and why?
So many inspiring writers to choose from - ought to choose George Eliot as her novels were Important; also full of admiration for Mrs Gaskell managing to write and have lots of children; Vita Sackville-West has to be admired for superior gardening and unconventional and very active love life; I adore the light and froth of Nancy Mitford and E M Delafield. But today I choose a friend, who has two boys of the same age and volatility as mine, also a horse, a dog, a cat AND a husband, and she has also found the time to co-write and have a children's book published -
http://www.amazon.co.uk/When-Dragons-Came-Lynne-Moore/dp/1847383033#reader_1847383033

(and she is also lovely, funny and very attractive -definitely an Hawaiian dancer, not a bunny!)



Now I am supposed to tag 3 other bloggers - so I tag my big blog crush Faux Fuchsia http://fauxfuchsiastyle.blogspot.com/, the fascinating Dash http://thefrenchsampler.blogspot.com/ and the lovely Hostess of the Humble Bungalow http://hostessofthehumblebungalow.blogspot.com/.

Intrepid adventures of B and Blighty Part 2

WARNING: THIS POST HAS A HIGH CALORIE CONTENT


Dear Ladies, still more to tell you of what B and I got up to!


These pictures record a little trip we made to Wendover, a small market town in the Chilterns. There are woods high on the hills above the town which form a lovely backdrop to the town. With all this picturesque-ness happening, instead of scenery, I ended up taking pictures of cakes and more cakes!

After our arduous drive (all of 11 miles) we needed refreshments. A friend had tipped me off that Rumseys, a cafe/chocolaterie was THE place to go. So we partook of cappuccinos, lemon polenta cake with vanilla ice cream, and carrot cake with pistachio ice cream. Yum.

Below, they had an old-fashioned cash register, but only for show. Modern banking has reached these parts.

More cakes, we saw the chef dipping the strawberries in choc and putting the finishing touches to this cake.

Did I mention they also make their own chocolates on the premises?

Well sugared up and happily replete, we sallied bravely forth to see what Wendover had to offer. What we found was more cakes.

These pictures are of the window of a little shop which sells everything a cake maker could want. They had gone for a beach theme- sandcastles above and flipflops below.

And ice lollies.

Superior cupcakes.

They had an amazing array of cake decorations. I was tempted by a little football figure for Boy 2's next birthday cake, then I remembered his emotional collapse during the England v Germany match and thought better not....

They had very fancy flowers too.

All made out of icing. But the lady in the shop warned me that they should not really be eaten as they have lots of wire in them. She obviously knew I was the sort of person who would try eating them.

And look, a cake stand like the organised mothers had at Sports Day. I too could be organised!

But not £30 worth of organised!

We had such a caketastic time!

Finally, we did a little walk through the meadow and by the canal/river.

All very pretty. I kept expecting to see Heidi. Lovely B gagged me when I broke into "The hills are alive with the sound of.."

The river looked pretty in the hot sun. Lovely B and I worried about the houses nearby and the risk of flooding and the effect on their insurance. We tend to get carried away by the romance of the moment.

Lovely B and I admired this lawn. Stripes. Very superior indeed. A lot of work has gone into that lawn. My lawn is mainly moss, even the moss has moss growing in it. And there are lots of brown patches now.

After that we went home. For a snack. Hungry work, all this sightseeing.

Cushioning the Blow

As most of you know, I am a stalker, I mean, admirer of the lovely Faux Fuchsia and her superior blog. I try to emulate her as far as possible. This is often difficult due to the inherent incompatibility between FF 's brand of stylish glamour and my role as mother to Genghis K and Attila. Recently FF did a post about not being under-cushioned, with delicious photos of her cushions, deftly arranged. This I felt I could do. Buying cushions is my idea of home decoration. So much more instantaneously gratifying than any other sort of interior improvements (apart from possibly selling the children on Ebay). Above is the kind of thing I had in mind. Tasteful. Calming. Pleasing to the eye.

Below is what Boys 1 and 2 have in mind re cushions. AAAAAAAGH! NOT calming, NOT pleasing to the eye!!!

Above, Boy 2 at top of cushion mountain, preparing to jump. Go Boy 2, go, don't worry that almost exactly a year ago you broke your arm, don't let that hold you back!
Above, Boy 1, the criminal mastermind behind this devilish scheme.
Boy 1 ready for take off. It is reassuring to note that if he over-cooks his leap, he will just wipe out the TV, DVD player and Mr B's fancy schmancy music playing equipment.

Cushions. Seemingly harmless. But in the wrong hands, deadly.

The Intrepid Adventures of B and Blighty Part 1

Hello ladies! Sorry for posting hiatus (sounds like an offence under the Postal Services Act??) but very taken up with gallivanting with lovely B, Mr B's cousin who came to stay. B has now gone, so I am in a post-B slump, but am cheering myself up by telling you all about our antics.

One day B and I decided to check out the "old town" near where I live. The town is split in two, one olde worlde, the other full of 60s buildings, and functional stuff like chemists and newsagents. I rarely go to the old bit as I am usually busy sourcing useful boy stuff like nit lotion, plasters, Beano comics and football cards; also the old bit has some very upmarket boutiques and I don't trust myself not to blow the housekeeping on a pair of designer flipflops! But as lovely B was there to keep an eye on me, we decided it was safe.

Above, a tremendously bad photo of the old town High Street, note how I have cleverly captured silver Landrover disappearing on the right, blue removal van in the distance, and lots of the lovely black door, while also ensuring the old church is partially obscured. Look and learn kids, this is a master at work!

Here is a pic of olde worlde inn hotel, we snooped around the courtyard.
They seem to have the same gardener as I do (none). Oh dear.

It was hot - as proven by tables and umbrellas, v unusual sight in this hemisphere.

Oh look, "the acclaimed film"! I am not sure whether this is a good sign or not, smacks a bit of desperation?? At least it makes a change from claiming Charles II slept here when fleeing from the Roundheads.

Lovely B and I then proceeded to check out the shops. We went to one called "littlebondstreet" (cheap deal at printers if use only lower case???) (I had spotted it during a walk on bitterly cold Boxing Day last year, when Mr Blighty had to pull my frozen tongue off the window and force me back into the car, such was the lusciousness of the items on display and the zeal of my window shopping).

This clutch bag has a trout pout, too much filler?

I know Lulu Guinness is the business, but the prices frightened me to death!
At this point the most shameful thing happened. I hardly dare speak of it. My phone ran out of juice. What an amateur blogger novice mistake! I was undone! There were more lovely designer things I so wanted to photo, including See by Chloe shoes which were £400 IN THE SALE!! While we were there, one lady came to collect one pair that had been ordered, then just "popped" another pair into her shopping basket, as you do! Lovely B had to stuff my tongue back into my mouth, wipe the dribble off my chin and bundle me out of the shop!

Below, the reason I ran out of battery. Boy 2 has loaded up all sorts of games on my phone and then sneaks my phone and plays them; I can always tell it's happening as a weird quiet descends on the house, very unnerving. He also enjoys taking photos of the screen. Why? And I keep having panic attacks thinking the "you currently have a negative cashflow" is a message from my bank.

Later, inspired by the Four Weddings plaque on the hotel suite door, we chose a Hugh Grant DVD to watch. I love Hugh Grant, he never disappoints, he is basically always the same (except for About a Boy, when he had a cropped haircut). When we lived in London, everyone I knew was always seeing him. I never did, it was totally unfair. The best story was from a friend whose husband spotted Hugh sitting outside a cafe. "Walk by and look", he says, "but be cool." "Sure, of course I'll be cool", huffs my friend. She walks up to Hugh's table, stops dead in front of him and squeals at the top of her voice, "HUUUUUGH GRAAAAAAAANT!" He started working a lot more in the US after that.