Little Miss Rachel

Goddiva Party Dresses

2011-12-09T09:14:00.000Z

If you are in the market for a cheap Christmas party dress, the people at Goddiva have told me about their £15 dress offer. They sent me this dress to try and, I have to say, for a £15 dress, it's not at all bad. It's quite short, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, and even though the one I chose wasn't particularly partyish, there are lots that are.

Of the £15 options, I quite like this one for a party. Lots of ruffles but at that price, doesn't matter so much if you get a drink spilt over you.

And, bonus, free delivery on all orders at the moment.

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Goddiva

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Little Miss Rachel was sent a dress to review from Goddiva. If she didn't like it, she'd say so.

New year, new house, new blog(s)

2010-01-13T10:58:00.002Z

I am still here, it's just I got married and then got offered a job in Somerset.

I also tweet under the name @peacockfeather if you want to follow my more random day to day thoughts.

Regent's Park Open Air Theatre

2009-06-04T13:08:00.006+01:00

If you're looking for somewhere to go on a date, I could highly recommend the open air theatre. You can have a picnic, drink wine throughout the performance, snuggle under a blanket, watch a play about marriage {which was a funny coincidence as Much Ado About Nothing is about the week leading up to a marriage, and we get married next week} and there are fairy lights everywhere and the sun sets behind the trees behind the set. Beautiful.

Cannes Young Lions Film

2009-05-20T12:39:00.001+01:00

Sushi Party

2009-05-14T20:48:00.002+01:00

{All images from Author's personal collection}

My favourite Foods I

2009-05-08T14:53:00.002+01:00

{Images from Author's personal collection}

Goats Cheese Toast with honey & salad has to be one of my favourite foods. Melted goats cheese with a little brown sugar and honey; the crunch of the toast; the crispness of salad with a lemon, oil and balsamic vinegar dressing... this dish has all the right flavours and textures.

In fact, I like it so much that we ate it for supper last night with asparagus and then I had the leftovers for lunch today.

Musings

2009-05-06T22:30:00.003+01:00

What's this? Two posts in one day?

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Mark Frith is a bizarre guest {I was watching the Apprentice}. Granted, he was sat next to Ruby Wax but he spent the whole show telling Phillip what he was thinking. And seemed to rather miss the point. I know he used to edit Heat so I am aware that his usual audience is rather less intellectual than those that watch the Apprentice, but not that much, surely? He kept saying that Phillip was this, was that, whatever, when Phillip was clearly just distracted. And then asked why he didn't just admit that in the boardroom. I'm not sure Mark Frith has ever watched the show. He clearly isn't made for TV.

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Went to a Rose tasting last night. Finally the perks of M's job have started to turn social. Anyway, we tasted 45 different roses and I tried to remember to spit not swallow. Each one might only be small but 45 x small equals more drunk than appropriate at even a social work event. At the end we spoke to the chap that organised it. I complimented him on the tasting. He agreed that the USP worked really well. I wasn't sure what he meant. Beyond the obvious that they were all roses, I hadn't noticed a USP. This morning, in the absence of a job, and with broadband mysteriously not working, I looked again at the invitation. It was the company with the largest rose list in the UK that organised the tasting. I presume that was the USP; didn't seem all that unique to me.

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A TV producer friend identified the 7 ages of female drinking last week. With the exception of the Mum and Grannie phases I think I managed all of them over the bank holiday weekend. Oh, except the underage category I suppose {I have eye wrinkles now. I am clearly overage}. Yes, I drank beer in the park, supermarket-own label gin out of a paper cup at a student party, champagne, wine and mojitos at a European joint hen and stag party {much more tasteful than a UK version but a celebration all the same}, more beers and vodka and lemonade at home and of course the rose wines at the tasting. Rather a weekend...

Things which make me happy

2009-05-06T13:37:00.004+01:00

10 things which make me terribly happy {inspired by The Rockstar Diaries}

1. clean sheets
2. afternoon tea with tea and scones and vintage china
3. laughing with friends over a dinner which goes on for hours
4. underwear shopping {or should that just be shopping in general}
5. talking in the bathroom with the almost-husband whilst getting ready for bed
6. the sun shining off the sea and the taste of salt when you lick your lips
7. drinking coffee and reading Vogue in a cafe
8. the smell of summer rain on hot pavements
9. play fighting with the almost-husband
10. hand written letters

{Image from Author's personal collection}

Vintage Hen Party Outfit I

2009-05-05T12:35:00.003+01:00

{Image from Author's personal collection}

A £5 vintage 80s dress accessorised with topshop shoes, cardigan, seed bead necklace and lots of clutter in my sitting room.

An outfit for a European hen/stag party in which we ate tapas, drank mojitos and met all of the English guests attending their German wedding in July.

On Redundancy

2009-04-28T13:01:00.004+01:00

The sound track to my life has changed. Instead of hearing the regular ring of the phone, the click of the telephone exchange announcing the call, I hear a howl of a lonely dog, brief snatches of chatter as people walk up and down the road and the regular hum of aircraft passing overhead.

Next-doors cat slumbers on my knee, thrilled to have a warm lap to curl up on. I perch my laptop awkwardly next to me on the sofa. In this new life I have no desk, or at least, not one where I can use a computer as the internet connection is behind the TV.

My to-do-list, once noted in my work diary instead scans through my mind. Where once my clients squatted, they have now been evicted, replaced by shouts such as 'new job'; 'de-clutter'; 'washing'.

Where once I felt tired but full of life, I now feel restless, anxious, bereft. Everything has changed. And yet, the only thing that has is that I don't have a job. Nothing else. Odd, isn't it? You think it doesn't define you, but, on some level, I think it must.

Things I Did...

2009-04-14T13:30:00.001+01:00

...over the Easter Weekend. {I liked how Cate's post sounded, so I thought I do my own version}.

Left the house for the first time in almost 2 weeks and got in a very small hire car with M, his brother, his brother's wife and my baby sister.
Navigated successfully to Shropshire despite being stuck in the middle seat and travelling up the M1.
Had a bizarre afternoon tea-style meal with M's parents, all the occupants of our car, my parents and my other sister at 11.45pm.
Waved off my parents and two sisters in the family Volvo {they were off to our usual Easter residence of Dad's parents in the Yorkshire Dales - I wasn't going as I thought it best to not travel too much so soon after the op} which was a very odd feeling.
Realised I had left all my underwear in our flat in London so had to wear a (new) pair belonging to M's Mum whilst we made a quick dash to M&S.
Bought and then returned a grey cardigan from Primark when I realised it looked like the back had been through a roller but not the front.
Printed 75 invitations with M's help along with 75 response cards and 75 maps.
Wrote 70 invitations and envelopes with the help of M's Mum and Grandmother.
Got up at 8am for 4 days on the trot despite it being a weekend and read two books whilst M played 4 rounds of early morning golf.
Trawled the charity shops of Shrewsbury and purchased 6 dinner plates and some red and white striped fabric from which to make cushion covers.
Attempted to have afternoon tea with M in Much Wenlock only for our plan to be foiled as they had no scones.
Bought a wooden draining rack in effort to prevent M building crazy sculptures with our washing up as it dries.
Attended a church service and smiled on hearing a special prayer said for our upcoming wedding and marriage. Surprised myself that singing hurt too much and tried to force myself to stop which was hard as I love singing.
Drank coffee in the sunshine whilst reading the Sunday papers.
Posted all invitations with addresses.
Sat in a slightly emptier car all the way back to London.
Had tea with Liz and finally viewed her Morocco and South Africa photos despite her having taken those holidays in February. Ate chocolate and helped her finish the crossword.
Ate delicious stir fry which M and I cooked together whilst catching up with The Apprentice.
Managed to go to bed the same day we got up for the 5th day running.
Slept with bad dreams but woke up early and then it was back to work...

Postcard from Shropshire

2009-04-10T09:27:00.002+01:00

Dear Little Miss Rachel

Do hope that you're enjoying the Easter weekend. My goodness, it is good to get out of the house. Much as I enjoyed my house-wife experience (aka sick leave) it's been nice to see something other than our flat and the garden. And talk to someone other than M, the postman or a passing friend.

M has been straight out on the golf course - what else could you expect - and I have been doing a spot of shopping since I managed to lose my ability to remember things when packing and realised I had left all my underwear at home.

Shropshire is green and wet. Makes a change from the grey and wet of London, although, in actual fact, the last two weeks have been surprisingly sunny. Got lots of washing done last week. Told you I was practising for impending unemployment.

Chocolate eggs galore to come, I hope.

See you next week!

Love,

Rachel

New Shoes

2009-04-09T15:29:00.003+01:00

{Image by Toast}

My catalogue arrived yesterday. And then I went on a bus. Which went past the shop. So I got off. And came out with these.

Perfect for spring and summer and our honeymoon.

Less good for the purse. Especially since I am supposedly *off shopping*.

But everyone needs a new pair of shoes, once in a while.

Happy Easter!

2009-03-21T14:51:00.003Z

{Image from Author's Personal Collection}

The Jenny Packham skirt. Rolled up at the waist to make it a little shorter. Rejected for this evening in favour of skinny jeans, converse and a t-shirt once I remembered that it may be a 30th birthday but the party is in Camden and vintage rose dry-clean only skirts do not mix with heavy music and rum and cokes at 2am.

The Best Job In the World

2009-03-20T16:33:00.003Z

I wrote a few weeks ago about Holly (who is a close university friend of our very good friends B&C) being on the shortlist for the Best Job In The World.

Well, thank you to those who have voted for her.

But please - vote again, and again, and again (you can vote once per day) and help Holly get to go to her island.

Thank you.

---end of announcement---

In need of another party outfit...

2009-03-20T13:30:00.001Z

Another weekend, another birthday. Another outfit required. A 30th this time, so perhaps a little dressier than jeans.

This is what I would wear if I had money to spend:

{Image by Reiss}

It actually reminds me of a vintage Jenny Packham skirt which I do own but is floor length and high waisted. Similar ruffles though. And pale coffee coloured, not blue. But maybe with a white t-shirt and brown ankle boots and a cardigan it might look ok. But where it is, I do not know. I shall have to try and dig it out.

Fire at Chancery Lane

2009-03-18T18:33:00.001Z

fire, originally uploaded by rachel-catherine.

And the reason why I was able to get home from work early - we were evactuated due to a fire in the building behind ours and risk from propane cylinders.

A Party Outfit?

2009-03-17T08:00:00.000Z

Jeans 2, originally uploaded by rachel-catherine

I think I need to work on my photography skills as well as my posing skills... Yet, for an image snapped in a mirror in a dark kitchen without a flash using a blackberry and then crudely lightened using a photo editor programme, it could be worse.

Sadly my jeans weren't as distressed at the front as I remembered so the look didn't work quite as well as I'd hoped. They were rather more distressed on the back though, which is why I required a longer top. Actually, that is a cardigan over a top. I should have taken the cardigan off to photograph it, but then I would have been even later than I actually was...

In need of a party outfit

2009-03-13T14:37:00.004Z

Impending redundancy = no shopping.

No shopping = wearing something I already own.

Wearing something I already own is getting d.u.l.l. So I have been looking through my favourite style and photography blogs for some inspiration for tomorrow evening.

{Image by Garance Dore}

{Image by The Sartorialist}

Yet, it is a night in a pub. Albeit one in central London, for a friend's birthday. Can I wear my old Citizens of Humanity Jeans (ripped and old and faded and usually worn rolled up on holiday) with a pair of platform sandals and look stylish... or just plain silly?

{Image from Author's Personal Collection}

Or maybe I should just stick to my tried and tested outfits and use my time to look for a new job...

Dos Hermanos visits the WI

2009-03-13T14:19:00.001Z

and writes about it here. Not quite what he was expecting, it seems. Still, I enjoyed icing the cupcakes and learning a new skill to boot.

I need a bedroom like this...

2009-03-13T13:58:00.001Z

{Image from Design Sponge}

I think I need to de-clutter our bedroom a little... And maybe paint it blue too.

And people get paid to write this?

2009-03-09T20:00:00.000Z

According to Shane Watson in the Sunday Times, by aged 25 I should have achieved the following:

- Achieved party notoriety/a groovy look — like Alice Dellal
- Travelling stripes (outside Europe)
- A tattoo or nonregulation piercing
- Have talked to a genuine celebrity
- Have DJed, gone out with a DJ or sung backing vocals
- Had at least one serious boyfriend
- Worked as a waitress/in a bar
- Proficiency in an instrument or sport
- Discovered your best feature
- Got serious about photography

And want people to say: “You’ve done an incredible amount for your age”

I am 27. I have a hole in my tummy button where I used to wear a bar until it got too annoying banging into my desk which was the same height (how middle aged) and I obviously have had at least one serious boyfriend given that I get married in three months time. I have travelled outside Europe and done well at things but it seems I have failed because I have not dated a DJ, discovered my best feature or talked to a genuine celebrity...

And what do I have to look forward to? Well, by 35 I should have:-

- Been head-hunted for a new job
- Been taken to lunch by your boss
- Been on a business trip abroad
- Lived abroad
- Bought your own flat
- Been bought jewellery by a man
- Socialised outside your age group
- Hatched a plan for your own business
- Successfully negotiated a pay rise
- Discovered your signature style
- Discovered the importance of women
- Established a shoe collection

And want people to say: “You could do anything you set your mind to”

Well, I have managed 3 of them. Looks like I have got a bit of work to do...

Seriously, I can't believe people get paid to write this. And in The Times as well.

London Fashion Weekend Catwalk Show I

2009-03-06T13:59:00.001Z

London Fashion Weekend Catwalk Show I, originally uploaded by rachel-catherine.

Woe may be me, but help it not be Holly too ...

2009-03-04T15:56:00.004Z

A friend of a friend is looking to get the best job in the world. You may have seen it advertised on the BBC and various other places. She has managed to get to the final 50 and we can help make her day at least by voting for her here. Thank you.

Woe is Me

2009-03-04T08:00:00.000Z

{Image by W2 Products}

It is not a good time to be in my profession. It is a worse time to be coming up for qualification and soon to be redundant. That said, it is not a good time for many professions. I don't really know what else to do. I have been applying for every job for which I am suitable in my field in every part of the country. And still nothing. I just have to hope something comes along or who knows what we shall do.

At least this mug (paid for by the cleaners who broke my original one) is cheering me up in the meantime.

(Normal blogging to resume once I have a moment when I am not job hunting, wedding planning, in hospital or worrying...)

Spring has sprung

2009-03-02T13:16:00.001Z

Spring has sprung, originally uploaded by rachel-catherine.

What a difference a month makes. 4 weeks ago this scene was buried under several inches of snow. Today sunlight streams through the window and it feels as if the world has woken up again.

Book Review: Iris & Ruby (Rosie Thomas)

2009-02-23T23:15:00.000Z

{Image from Amazon.co.uk}

A word of warning: I think this review may give more details than the cover synopsis. I found it impossible to write about the book without giving away some of the details, so if you wish to read the book without knowing everything perhaps you should read the book first and then come back to the review and leave your thoughts then...

A lifetime of memories of another era, of love & dancing, of passion, of life and of death crowd Iris' mind, and confusing them with old age or loneliness she is consumed by worry that they will slip from her grasp like a cup and shatter, lost for ever. Ruby, her eighteen year old granddaughter, battling her own demons, some of which are expanded on more fully than others, arrives in Cairo barely knowing Iris, but eventually the joining of grandmother and granddaughter allows them both to heal and in telling Ruby her stories, and facing her daughter, Lesley, Iris is able to finally be at peace.

Iris & Ruby is narrated by Iris yet moves easily into the third person when describing events through Ruby's eyes. Memories of Iris in Cairo during the war are intertwined with episodes of Ruby's exploration of Cairo some 60 years later. It is an intriguing book and at times reminded me in part of The English Patient, partially through context (Cairo, the desert) and partially through the desire to ensure that memories have been told, voiced, images becoming real in being given a voice, before the end.

Iris' wartime Cairo seems at once glamorous and carefree yet tinged, as life in wartime surely was, with that steely determination to live life as if it was for the last time. It seemed an endless round of parties, cocktails, silk dresses and dances with army boys, but these descriptions conceal their harder, less glamorous reflection of the reality of a young women in love with a soldier, waiting anxiously for his return, filling her days with work and friends and airmail letters. Although reading the synopsis of the book tells the reader that Iris' one true love is never to return from the desert, I still found myself willing him to return. Even though I knew from the beginning that they would never reach their wedding day, I still cried when they didn't.

I don't think Iris ever did 'get over' losing Xan. I don't think, in actual fact, that you do 'get over' losing your true love. I think time and distance helps one deal with living. I don't know, thankfully, but that is my belief. I found it telling that Iris returned to Cairo, to a house where she had known Xan, as soon as she was able to escape her daughter who could never be the son she had lost. In contrast, the death of Ruby's boyfriend Jas was the catalyst for her departure to Cairo but her grief for Jas was not in the same league. Rather I think the incident Ruby touches on when she says "I don't want you to touch me ever again" to a family member is the more serious issue, as is the fleeting glimpse we are given in to her thoughts when she is at a nightclub with Ash: "She was used to trading elements of herself as a powerful currency, the dollar standard, with everyone from boys she met in clubs to Will (the family member). She had been doing it since she was fifteen. Only Jas had been different". Perhaps Lesley's grief in relation to her mother (Iris) - someone doesn't have to die for there to be grief, I don't think - especially since the issue was unresolved, had affected Ruby to the extent that she had begun to believe that she had to give something to be loved and wanted, that it wasn't an automatic right, and that giving her body was the only thing she had.

Iris' relationship with Xan was easy. Not in the sense of not knowing where he was, terrified that he would never return, but in that they both seemed to know, immediately, that they were each other's. "...That was how certain we both wanted and believed... 'I love you, Iris Black,' he said. 'Xan Molyneau, I love you too.'..." They had found each other and each was quite sure . In contrast, Ruby's relationship with Ash plays out in the same city but with none of the same surety. Even Ash's words are different "Perhaps I love you" he says. A product of a different era or an underlying emphasis that sometimes you know immediately, other times a relation creeps up on you?

Grief and relationships. Relationships between lovers, between mother & daughter, grand-mother & grand-daughter. Grief over death, of things that might have been, of people being someone that they are not. The hardest part of considering this book was the knowledge that next month I would be discussing it at a book group at which the author will be present. And that the book was deeply moving and is often concerned with the two things hardest to discuss honestly.

Peonies & Polaroids opens Etsy Shop

2009-02-23T08:00:00.002Z

{Images by Peonies & Polaroids}

Look out for Peonies & Polaroids Etsy shop opening this coming weekend... Peonies takes the most beautiful, ethereal, whimsical photographs and I was rather excited when she started mentioning an Etsy shop. I wanted to buy M one for V-Day so we could hang it on our bedroom wall, but the shop wasn't open then. I mentioned it to him last night and he said I should just go for it anyway. The photo below is one of my favourites. I know I am a sucker for anything sea related but there is something very peaceful about this beach scene, which says to me childhood holidays and reminiscing. Anyway, enough promotion from me. On Saturday, have a look yourself...

Fire From Water

{Image by Peonies & Polaroids}

"...have a baby. You'll find it so much more fulfilling than writing..."

2009-02-10T13:30:00.001Z

I have been re-reading Erica Jong's Fear of Flying this weekend in preparation for tonight's book club meeting. I haven't finished it yet but the above line is spoken/shouted to the narrator by her older sister during an argument at their parents house, an event which the narrator is recalling as she muses on why she is not deliberately getting pregnant.

I then was reading the Observer Woman's magazine which is not something I usually read (M prefers the Guardian and I prefer The Times but he won) when I came across two articles, one by Rachel Cooke "...conversations I have had in which the majority of the other female's sentences began with the words: "When you have a baby..." (which I felt echoed the narrator's questioning of her sister's superior complex as a Mother in Fear of Flying) and one by Polly Vernon (defending her choice to not have/ not want children - which you would rarely see a man do).

Both were badly written/researched and left me wondering why these articles had been written. Sadly Cooke referenced the infernal Alpha Mummy blog which meant that the rather irritating Jennifer Howze picked up the story and re-published it leading to the never-ending flood of commenters struggling to justify themselves and define their positions as mothers, mostly by being exceedingly rude against any one who had made a different choice leading one poster, Expat Mum (blogger), to question "Why, I keep asking myself, must women justify their own choices by slagging everyone else off?". Indeed, even bloggers who I actually read (and respect) like Potty Mummy seemed to imply that tasks one completed as a Mother were far more important than anyone else's:

"And whilst I'm on the subject, where are all the articles written by mothers on how their childless friends are incredibly boring, self centred, obsessed by shoes and living in their own me-me-me sitcom world? Oh, I know... There aren't any. Because we know there are two sides to every story, that it never pays to generalise - and of course we are far too busy cleaning up puke and wee to get round to it". Potty Mother.

As I am just four months away from getting married and potentially beginning the years when I decide whether or not to have a family, this topic niggled. On the one hand I am hoping to have children but I do not think that having children is necessarily more fulfilling for every woman than not having them. I do not doubt that for some people having children gives them meaning that they would otherwise lack, but others, I would argue, have meaningful lives regardless of whether or not they are able to procreate. It makes me so cross, this superior attitude that some women seem to show once they become mothers.

Last night, M and I were watching 90210. In one scene, the headmaster's son bashed his car into another boy's. Words were exchanged, a quote was obtained, the money was paid back and the two lads ended the transaction by the maimed car owner inviting the payee to a basketball game. This conversation was watched by a girl who at some point in the past had been betrayed by her then best-friend in relation to something to do with divorced parents and the then-best-friend telling everyone. The two girls had not spoken since and both were still clearly affected by the situation some years later. She expressed her surprise at the lads' ability to sort things out and he in turn expressed his at girls' abilities to hold grudges. He had a point.

Even in seemingly superficial and shallow shows such as 902010 and Sex & the city these issues are being raised. Do we as girls define ourselves only in context of how we are in relation to each other? Can something only be good if we make out that girls not making this choice are somehow wrong or bad? Why do those who are mothers act superior to those without children, even going so far as to infer that those without will only understand when they have children? (Quote: SATC - Carrie "but you used to buy Manolos" Kyra "that was before I had a real life" or something similar). We need journalists who encourage us to celebrate our own individual choices and to be happy and non-judgemental for those who make their choice which differs from our own. Not articles like those by Cooke & Vernon who perpetuate the circle of 'my choice is better than yours'.

The narrator in Fear of Flying considers what it means to be defined as a women and whether or not the bearing children is an intrinsic part of being a woman. Actually, her main consideration is freedom, as a woman, and for me that includes a choice whether or not to have children. Yet I think it is worth considering how the construct of femininity sits against the choice not to have a child. Just as there are many who would argue that adolescence is a male construct and question whether is it possible to conform to the ideals of femininity and adolescence, what are those who state that women are only fulfilled when they have children doing? Is it too far to state that it seems these women define being a women by being a mother and that by implication that if you are not a mother you struggle to be a woman?

Black & White in Paris

2009-02-06T08:00:00.000Z

{Image via The Sartorialist}

I gave up 3 months ago. But I still think the cigarette makes this photograph.

Book Reviews (a preview)

2009-02-03T13:51:00.002Z

*I have realised I never wrote/posted my review of Wife in the North which I shall endeavour to do at some point soon. I have bought and read and reviewed the books of the two other bloggers I read (Petite Anglais & Rachel North London) so I really should get around to Judith's.

* I have moved WI branches and joined the book club of my new branch, so shall try and post the reviews of those books and perhaps even some of the subsequent discussions where possible. First up is Erica Jong's Fear of Flying which I read at university so am going to re-read quickly to refresh my memory.

* If anyone else wants to review the same books, let me know and I shall do a collective post which includes other links too.

Book Review: Gerrard - My Autobiography

2009-02-03T13:46:00.002Z

{Image from Amazon.com}

No, not my usual sort of book either, but we were on holiday and M (and all his family) are Liverpool fans, so I picked it up for a brief look and a few hours later had finished the book. And that was how I came to know the names of the last three Liverpool managers and the reasons why Stevie G has played poorly in each of the last tournaments for England.

To be honest, the most overwhelming thing I felt for the book was pity for Gerrard's wife, Alex. Perhaps it was his lack of language skills and therefore ability to express how he really feels about her, but saying that she is a close friend, he loves her and he loves Liverpool Football Club (same sentence) and that she has a small career but is not a model but a Mum did not do anything to endear him to me.

I didn't have high expectations when I started the book but they were pretty damn low when I finished. Gerrard has an explanation for everything and seems to be a rather angry man, blaming everything but himself for his poor playing, performances or tackling issues. And yet, I didn't really feel that I gained much of an insight into his life. Yes, I discovered some interesting facts that I didn't know about the organisation of the F.A and players and clubs but I am sure that those won't be new to anyone who follows football 'properly'. Yes, there was information about some of his early years but a quick search on the Internet revealed almost as much information. There were pages and pages of drivel about formations and tackles and passes but a quick poll of my male friends interested in football revealed that they knew most of that information anyway, despite having not read the book. In short, there may have been several hundred pages but there was very little in the way of actual content.

In fact, perhaps the most intriguing part of the book was the index, which is something I have rarely seen in an autobiography. Still, useful if you are a footballer and can't be bothered/can't read the whole thing and just want to see what Gerrard wrote about you, if anything...

Yet not all is lost, I am going to try and read another autobiography or two of similar aged/standard players to put Gerrard's work into context. But as I had to give up on David Beckham's book 2/3 of the way through out of sheer boredom, do not hold your breath for the reviews.

London in the snow

2009-02-03T12:06:00.001Z

Lincoln's Inn Postbox, originally uploaded by rachel-catherine.

Yes, just like every other Londoner (do I count as a Londoner - I've lived here since 2004, but perhaps that is for another post) I couldn't help but take photos yesterday during the snow.

You may have gathered that I work near Lincoln's Inn, for whatever the weather I seem to have taken a photo there. Something about the red of the postbox against the snow and the distant red of the bricks of the buildings seemed very Victorian. The photo isn't quite as I would have liked though - the cars for instance, but it was taken very quickly with my blackberry as I walked along.

This morning, by contrast, we still have some snow but also bright sunshine.

From one snow scene to another...

2009-02-02T13:00:00.000Z

...and please forgive the double post...

...

Returned to London over the weekend, swapping the snow scenes of the alps for the ones of London. Except the light in London was rather less bright...

{Image Author's own and not to used without explicit permission}

Sunset over Montgenevre

Oh, and in the Alps everything works no matter how much snow there seems to be. In London, no buses were running, no trains, all tubes were severely delayed and it took me an hour and a half to do a 30 minute journey to work. Still, at least I made it. No-one else did.

{Image Author's own and not to used without explicit permission}
Montgenevre

Spent the morning doing odd jobs and tasks and trying not to notice the continuous snowfall outside my window. Am posting this at lunchtime and then I shall finish off and head home before the snow gets any worse and I am stranded in central London. I know I could walk home in about the same time as it took me to get here, but it is cold. Plus, I want to make chocolate cake.

{Image Author's own and not to used without explicit permission}
Lincoln's Inn Fields

I wonder what the situation will be like tomorrow? One noticeable thing about the snow is that it is so quiet. Without the buses and with the snow muffling all sound, it is actually peaceful.

{Image Author's own and not to used without explicit permission}

Lincoln's Inn

Proper wedding posts to resume again shortly when things are back to normal. Still trying to catch up on a week's worth of blog reading and e-mails...

...

postcard from france

2009-01-28T15:37:00.000Z

Dear little miss rachel, tried to upload a post and photo to share the sunshine and report that all is well with skiing but blackberry keeps deleting things. Would have mentioned the experience of the chairlift the opposite way and the fastest run I managed (it was the rest of the parties slowest) but I shall leave it for my return. See you soon x

ear little miss rachel, skiing is going well, if you discount the minor incident involving some crying and experiencing the chairlift going the opposite direction to usual. The rest of the week has been better and today I managed to keep up with the rest of my party. It was the fastest I have ever done that run and their slowest. Tried to upload a photo to share the sunshine

E
E,

Tagged!

2009-01-20T08:30:00.000Z

Kristy tagged me, so here goes:

Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person that tagged you

2. Post the rules on your blog

3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself

4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs

5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

I am sure that you are all bored of hearing random facts about me (and can there really be anymore?) but here goes:

1. I don't wear a watch. Except today, when I am wearing M's because he forgot it.

2. January 2009 is the first time all of my sisters and I have been in the same place for 2 years.

3. I stress and worry and procrastinate far too much.

4. Two of my friends and I won £14 on a quiz machine playing deal or no deal last night.

5. I am hoping to upgrade my phone to a blackberry to feed my addiction to e-mails and blogging just a little bit more. M of course is thrilled!

6. There are 7 other posts on this blog about my random facts and they can be found here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.

I tag: anyone up for this? Let me know in the comments box...

Lessons Learnt

2009-01-09T23:39:00.004Z

How big a difference do you think there is between someone saying that they love a person and someone being in love with that person? Is the speaker trying to reassure the listener (that person's partner) that they think the partner is great, i.e. 'what a great choice you made' or is it more of a veiled warning to the listener? Is the problem with the listener rather than the speaker.

Tonight started well. It went swiftly downhill.

Things I learnt:-

* Don't bother turning up to drinks at 9pm when everyone else will be wasted and you are entirely sober. It will be hideous.
* No matter how much you trust your own partner every once in a while some one else's behaviour will make you extremely cross.
* Any drunk female on her own who needs to get home will automatically live just near enough to you that you feel obliged to take her home but just far enough away from your house that it will be a £35 taxi fare. They will invariably have no money and be the one who made you very cross at point 2 above but you will have to bite your tongue and make polite small talk all the way home because your partner's caring-ness is something you love about them. Usually they will conveniently forget where they live and therefore engage your partner in conversation trying to remember their address whilst you suppress the urge to kick them out at the next set of traffic lights.
* If you are really lucky they will have had some kind of fxxked up argument with a colleague earlier and be so drunk that they stare at you before telling you they love your partner and that they are 10 times cool.
* If you are really lucky they will entice your partner into the loo to hold their hair whilst they vomit.
* If you are a rational person you will feel sorry for this person.
* I am not a rational person. I did not feel sorry for her. I felt exceedingly annoyed at her.
* This will result in an argument whereon you are blogging and your partner has gone to bed.
* This will annoy you more. You will resolve never to go to a drinks party where she or her fxxked up colleague is present ever again.
* It is hard to be the bigger person.

Matt, Liz & Madeline

2009-01-07T23:00:00.002Z

Imagine getting married to your childhood sweetheart. Imagine her becoming pregnant and finally, after 5 weeks of bed rest, giving birth to a beautiful if slightly premature baby. Not so hard to imagine is it? Imagine setting up a blog to record the imminent arrival of the baby and the birth. Again, not so hard. Imagine your wife having to wait 24 hours to see her baby but when she got up to be taken to see her, she felt light headed and passed out and then died. In 27 hours experiencing the birth of your child and the death of your wife?

I came across Matt's blog yesterday: Matt Liz & Madeline. Unbelievably this is what happened to their family and the blog has turned from record of a birth to record of a life coping as a new father and widower. It is desperately sad but also beautiful reading and viewing (Matt takes lots of photos). Madeline is a sweet little girl and the kindness of strangers touches the heart and shows that even in the depths of tragedy kindness and hopefulness can be found .

Christmas Decorations

2009-01-03T15:50:00.006Z

Better late than never...

All images by me

Farewell 2008

2008-12-31T08:00:00.002Z

As another year drifts to a close it is time to pause and reflect, to look backwards over the past twelve months and then turn and pass through the door to 2009. 2008 did not disappoint. I entered the year full of hope and optimism and by and large, this was the way of my year.

2008 was the year of commitment: M's brother married his beautiful wife in February and then in June M proposed to me. Our announcement was swiftly followed by that of two sets of university friends and one set of school friends and so 2009 seems set to be the year of the wedding (although I suspect that 2010 and beyond will be no different).

2009 will be a year of change for me personally as well as globally. First of all, it will be the first year since university when I have not smoked a cigarette. M and I managed to kick our penchant for a social cigarette with a drink or two six weeks ago. It will also be the year that, all being well, I qualify and become Mrs B. There will be some probable blog re-branding too, as Little Miss Rachel does not fit the life and times of a newly wed-to-be.

Globally there are great expectations from Mr Obama and from Mr Brown too, as he leads us through this period of recession. Personally speaking the drop in base rate and housing prices has brought nothing but cheers and I hope that we can all learn something about value and making do. A downwards looking economy coupled with being older and much more aware means that the world feels far far less certain than ever before.

In my mind's eye I see myself on the eve of 2000 with a boy I thought I loved (who knew at 17 that being in love and simply liking being loved could be mistaken for one and the same thing) preparing to take A-levels and leave home and start a new life at university and beyond, in a new century, yet somehow this NYE seems even more uncertain than that.

And so, as 2008 passes into 2009, M and I shall, for the first time since I have known him, spend the evening together, at home, quietly (with some decent champagne) rather than at a huge party and welcome in the new year in the way we hope to spend much more of the coming year. While for us there is much celebration to come in 2009 my thoughts are with others who do not or cannot share this.

And so, as 2008 passes into 2009, I shall pause a moment to remember Roderick and I shall think of my darling cousin and hope that she is able to find some comfort in the ending of her year and the start of a new one.

And so, dear readers, I know not what 2009 will bring to you but I hope that you have a peaceful and fitting end to 2008 and start to 2009 and I will see you next year.

(2006 and 2007 if you are interested)

A Short Walk In Wintertime*

2008-12-19T08:00:00.001Z

"When you're weary, feeling small..." a short walk in winter time can soothe the soul.

Letting the weak winter afternoon sunshine wash over me, seeing the winter trees silhouetted against a dazzling blue sky...

...Looking up at ancient trees and becoming calmer, as I gaze at buildings built in the 17th century, where generations upon generations of lawyers before me have lived and worked. Following in tradition somehow makes things easier...

... Looking up and feeling sunlight against my face, that there is light amongst the darkness of winter and that summer and sunshine will come round again. That summer without winter would be nothing. That silhouettes like these are even more special as for 3/4 of the year you cannot see that roof line against the sky for it is usually obliterated by an abundance of foliage...

...Seeing the rich red colour of old brick and being reminded of other occasions when life was also hard, and remembering that those times too passed and receded. That seasons come and seasons go, as do bad times and dark days...

...Realising how many good things in life there are, if only you pause and look, much like the poem, one of my favourites ...

All images by me.

"What is this life if full of care

We have no time to stop and stare

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep, or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at beauty's glance

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this, if full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

William Henry Davies

*With apologies to Libby Purves for misquoting her book title.

Christmas Preparations

2008-12-16T08:00:00.000Z

The tree is up and decorated (white lights, teeny gold baubles, a few beautiful birds and reindeer), holly and berries have been foraged and arranged in vases, 4 dozen mince-pies have been made and almost half consumed already. The presents-in-jars have been made and are almost labelled. The extra presents have been bought. No Christmas cards have been written yet but we are not sending many this year. Pictures to follow when the camera lead arrives.

PS. Many thanks for all your kind words yesterday. They mean a lot. Things are looking up, I think.

Of words and candlelight

2008-12-15T08:00:00.001Z

These are the darkest days of winter and some of my darkest days too. The darkness lifted temporarily as I attended a candle-lit carol concert yesterday evening. There, in the still church, my thoughts floated apart as I listened to the familiar Christmas readings, my mind taken back, as always, to school carol concerts and the pending excitement of Christmas at the most beautiful of words: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God". There, in the candle-lit church, I heard my voice soaring out, in harmony with the multitude of voices, lifting up to the rafters, surprising me, as we sung "silent night, holy night". There, in that quiet and candlelit church, as prayers were read, I thought I heard a whispered lullaby: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it". My candle might not be shining so very brightly at the moment, but it has not gone out. These darkest days of winter will soon have passed, and soon too, I hope, will mine.

A little less conversation...

2008-12-08T23:50:00.006Z

All photos from my personal collection

Things to do on a Saturday afternoon

2008-12-06T17:23:00.004Z

All images by me -more to follow

...

You know you have a cold when...

2008-12-02T08:00:00.000Z

(in addition to other more usual symptoms) you...

Don't notice that the hot water bottle you've made and are leaning on is leaking until you notice some minutes later that you're sat in a puddle of warm water.
Make yourself a cup of tea and try and put the kettle back in the fridge.

International Buy Nothing Day

2008-11-28T08:00:00.001Z

So, in the UK at least, the government wants us all to do more spending to help the economy and to try and convince us, VAT has been lowered as of next Monday. Whether or not this will actually be passed to the consumer will remain to be seen.

In the meantime, tomorrow is international BUY NOTHING DAY. We can all help our own economies and spend nothing. As all bills increase, now is the time to mend things, re-use things, offer your clutter on free-cycle and collect someone else's tat instead of buying yet more things.

Obviously some things we still have to buy, but, for tomorrow at least, perhaps try and only buy it if you actually need it.

Which is harder than it sounds but worth the effort I think. Let me know how you got on.

Things you need for a perfect night in...

2008-11-21T21:32:00.004Z

Blankets by melin tregwynt
via The Cwtch

A hot shower with beautiful smelling shampoo, Cowshed toiletries, the largest bottle of Redken conditioner you've ever seen and enough time to leave the conditioner to work
Soft flannel pyjamas, Ugg boots, a cosy cardigan, a Cath Kidston blanket and a whole sofa to myself
Lemon meringue pie
Marks and Spencers mulled wine hot in a mug with slices of orange
iplayer and a weeks worth of It takes Two
A trashy novel (Notting Hell by Rachel Johnson if you wondered
An early night in our beautiful bed, the comfiest ever, with goose down pillows and duvet and white bedding
A cowshed candle
Peace and quiet and time to reflect on a very stressful week

However you are spending your night, I hope it is fun.

Baby P

2008-11-18T08:30:00.002Z

A few years ago, I did some research into the Climbie Inquiry in preparation for a job interview. I found what I read disturbing but I hoped that the only positive thing to have come from that child's suffering would be that others would not have to live and die in such a fashion.

After reading the commentary I have always been left with a sense that on some occasions, social services really are damned if they do, damned if they don't. In fact, you only have to contrast two stories in the Times to see this first hand. The first was about a women with mental difficulties who has disappeared with her 5 children after social services expressed concerns and one commenter said this: "What kind of society is this that, time after time, rips families apart "for their own good". Now we're "out to get her". Couldn't some other solution be found while keeping the family together? This mother needs help, perhaps, but not by inflicting her with the loss of her beloved family". Yet the second article was about the death of Baby P and had people calling out for the resignation of the head of Haringey social services for failing to remove Baby P from his family.

...

"Death is too good for X, torture the b***h that killed baby P" was the name of the facebook group which popped up on my list of groups which friends of mine on facebook had joined. Only it didn't say X, it had a name.

I clicked on the link. There was a photo of the woman allegedly baby P's mother. Further down the page a name purported to be the step-father's name was mentioned. There was also a link to a News of the World investigation. And then a petition to be signed to give baby P's mother, step father and lodger the death sentence.

Further down there were almost 1000 posts on the wall and 29 topics of 'discussion' (I use the word loosely), mainly by women, with titles such as 'you evil sla*' and 'why is this women smiling' as well as more expected things and some titles which I cannot even bring myself to copy type even using stars.

This group shocked me.

I was going to write more but I am not sure what to write. I cannot believe someone would treat a baby like Baby P's mother and step-father and their lodger did, but I cannot also believe people could seriously post things on facebook without seeing the hypocrisy. I am not saying they are in the same league at all, actions vs words, but what is wrong with our society that people think it is appropriate to punish like with like?

Strictly Come ...

2008-11-17T08:30:00.001Z

John & Kristina

One of my favourite treats comes on a Monday night. On Mondays M plays football and I usually head home after work, perhaps do a little clearing up or laundery and then settle down with a cup of tea and watch Strictly Come Dancing followed by the results show on iplayer.

As always the dancing is what draws me to the show, but there is something more than that which keeps me interested. After all I do not watch other types of professional dancing on the TV although I will watch shows such as Dancing on Ice. I even tuned into Children in Need on Friday to watch Tess (who I thought was actually very good). I am not particularly fond of Brucie, although he does physically remind me of my late great uncle and Tess has her moments and I do enjoy seeing what she is wearing each week and mostly wondering who on earth picked it for her.

To be honest, as well as some of the couples can dance, it is not them I enjoy watching so much. It is the amusement of watching people who are not born or trained in dance or music attempting to ballroom dance, improving week on week (even if the judges don't acknowledge this). It is certainly not the judges that I watch the show for - I think the show would be vastly improved without their constant bickering.

But there has to be something else and I think it may be the celebrity attitudes and their relationships with their partners. For example, I read that Rachel hopes to relaunch her career off the back of Strictly and it does seem that she takes everything very seriously (i.e. I find the crying after being in the dance off odd, not her wish to put in many hours) and is allegedly rather off putting to the others before she show doing breathing exercises. I am not sure that the world needs Rachel's career, pretty as she is she doesn't appear to be able to sing. I wouldn't vote for her and if she left next week I wouldn't miss her. Likewise, Lisa, who I find to be extremely irritating and cannot see how she possibly pursued a career as a model and television presenter (although the show has proved an interesting insight into reasons Mr Clooney might have used to end their relationship)

On the other hand, some of the celebrities who have no dance training or pop careers who had no dancing ability were less watchable. Perhaps it was their less than charasmatic relationships with the professional dancers, but I did not miss Jessie and Gary nor did I find their routines anything less than an embarrassment to watch. John on the other hand has no natural dancing ability but is still very endearing and I enjoy watching his performances. I think his partner, Kristina's, choreography is outstanding. Jodie is another who is less than able to dance but has improved no end and I have enjoyed her performances.

Camilla is my favourite of the professional partners, so it is no surprise that I have enjoyed watching her and Tom dance, although I cannot decide if his now wife is insane or too nice to have moved around their wedding, allowed Camilla on the mini-moon and generally had her life disrupted by what boils down to Saturday night family entertainment. It certainly doesn't endure me to him...

I have read though, over the last week or so, that the judges and some of the professional partners are saying that John should have gone as he is making a mockery of the people that work hard and can dance. Only last week Tess said, however, that John was putting in the third most hours a week out of all the couples. It is quotes like this 'This is supposed to be a dance contest. Please, please, people at home vote for the dancing' which make me want to vote for John. It is an entertainment show featuring dancing. He is doing both things even if he cannot dance brilliantly. The public are asked to vote to save "their favourite". It all seems a bit much for people to be calling for John to resign from the show. Why should he?

One quote, 2 ways

2008-11-14T13:32:00.004Z

Now, I may have watched the X-Factor once or twice but in general I do not care who wins nor the news/entertainment stories which surround it. I was interested in this though, which I am sure I first noticed on the BBC but can find no mention of it anymore. Quite why last years winner cares which singer wins is beyond me, but it seems odd that she is quoted as saying something in two different ways... (and for the record, I am sure that I read the Heat version on the BBC on Monday although their article mentions nothing now)

“It was a real shocker this week,” says Leona Lewis. “I wasn't outraged, screaming at the TV and stuff, but I was surprised.” (Heat Magazine)

Leona Lewis, last year's winner expressed her surprise at the outcome saying: "I was outraged, screaming at the TV and stuff. I was surprised." (Daily Telegraph)

And Leona Lewis, last year's winner, and Lily Allen have expressed their surprise at the outcome, with Lewis saying: "I was outraged, screaming at the TV and stuff. I was surprised." (Press Association report).

Or maybe I shouldn't be surprised at all. I'm sure newspapers edit quotes to fit their stance. It would just usually, to my mind, be Heat that sensationalised something rather than the Telegraph.

Colour Boards

2008-11-13T23:09:00.003Z

Image from here via here

Some pretty colours to cheer up a grey and rainy day. Or perhaps these are more appropriate.

Tagged: Bookworm Meme

2008-11-11T13:15:00.000Z

I have been tagged by The Cwtch, so here goes:

First off is "The Bookworm". The rules are that you have to open the nearest book to page 56. Write out the fifth sentence as well as the following few sentences. It has to be the closest book, not your favourite, or the most intellectual!

Well, the nearest book to me at present is Andrew Marr's A History of Modern Britain and says:

"The Church of England saw one of the sharpest declines in membership in the decade from 1935 to the end of the war, losing half a million communicants, down to just under three million. (Another half million would be lost by 1970 and more than a million by 1990.) The Roman Catholics rose in numbers after the war, perhaps because of Polish, Irish and other European immigration, while the Presbyterians and the smaller churches also suffered decline. Though the first mosque in Britain had been built in Woking, Surrey as early as 1889, there were few Muslims or Hindus."

Two things struck me whilst writing out that passage; (1) how appropriate that on the 11th November that the quote should be about the decade following the war and (2) who knew Woking and Surrey were so liberal as to have built the first mosque, and as early as 1889. Speaking of remembrance day there is another post to come on that subject later today.

Second Tag ( I have changed this to four not six as I have run out of writing time):

Things I Value

Freedom: As it is Remembrance Day perhaps I should start with this one. Freedom is something I value in many senses: the ability to act and think freely and to not be dictated to by state or religion, not to be subordinate to anyone or anything, the freedom to vote, for freedom of speech, for equal opportunities. Every time we have an election I always make sure that I vote: wars were fought for our democratic freedom, wars are being fought now to free other countries to allow them democratic freedom and less than a century ago women were not allowed to vote. Indeed, it was not until 1928 that women were allowed to vote and stand for election in the UK. But freedom should not be confused with the ability to do what one likes, come what may. That is not something I value.
Life and limb and being healthy: I value the fact that I am alive, that I am intact and healthy. It may not sound much but it is not something that everyone can take for granted. I also value living in a country with free health care to ensure that everyone has the ability to seek medical help.
Love and support of my friends and family: I feel so incredibly lucky to have parents who are still together as well as four grandparents, supportive parents-in-law, sisters, a brother and sister-in-law, and soon to be top of this list, a wonderful husband-to-be.
Sunshine and Rain: Whilst we often moan about the weather in the UK and I am no exception (see yesterdays post) we are so very lucky to live in a country which has seasons, proper seasons, and generally speaking a weather system which is not too extreme, i.e. no real droughts, or flooding of biblical proportions, or winters where everyone is snowed in for days, weeks, months on end.

Things I Don't

Incompetence: I think this probably goes against what I have said above, but people being incompetent really drives me mad.
Selfishness: While I could probably do to heed this myself, I also find this extremely irritating.
People who don't stand their rounds: If you don't want to participate in the round buying, don't accept drinks from other people. Just buy your own, but don't force people to have to point out when it is your round.
Vendors who add an extra mark-up when they hear the word 'wedding': It either costs that much or it doesn't. Stop trying to extort people for extra. Thankfully I think the lack of funds available to pump into expensive weddings will make vendors realise that they are lucky for the custom at all...

And now I tag: Suzi/Echo, Potty Mummy, Catherine and Rachel. Enjoy!

Rain rain go away

2008-11-10T13:15:00.000Z

Or perhaps one of these images by my favourite illustrator, David Downton, would cheer me up.

More images to come.

Image by David Downton available from Fashion Illustration Gallery if you are feeling generous!

"It's a new dawn, a new day... and we're feeling good"

2008-11-05T08:00:00.003Z

An historic day then, today (well, today in GMT times) as we learnt that Mr Obama has become the 44th President-Elect of the USA. I stayed up until I could keep my eyes open no longer, following the BBC, CNN and webchat on Iain Dale's diary. When Obama had taken over 100 of the electoral college votes to McCain's 34 I went to bed. I left the TV on though and woke, disorientated, a few hours later to hear Obama's acceptance speech. For the first time in a long time I feel ignited about politics, that people really did use their vote. For some reason I found the idea of ordinary Americans queuing for hours to cast their vote extraordinarily moving. Suddenly, it feels as if the world has caught up with itself. Where less than a century ago only male white citizens could vote we now have the most charismatic US (and dare I say it, world) President-Elect I have known in my lifetime. History was certainly made last night and I look forward to new, enlightened, changed times.

An historic day, today, in the UK as well. Bonfire Night, that oddest of British traditions, the celebration of a failure to blow up the houses of parliament by a one Mr Guy Fawkes (the ringleader of the execution of the plot rather than the ringleader itself) in 1605. 400 years later the celebrations are still marked by bonfires and fireworks and traditional food. An historic tradition that I don't think we are celebrating this year. In a time of belt-tightening it seems a little unsuitable to literally set fire to hard earned precious money.

US Elections

2008-11-04T23:21:00.002Z

20 years ago today I was a small girl of just 6 years old living in California because of her Daddy's job. We lived in a small town in Northern California, opposite the school which I attended. 20 years ago today my parents took me to the school where a polling station was set up, to see how the voting took place. Each person was given some pieces of paper and went to a small cubicle where they used a hole punch type device to make marks against the candidates. I didn't know much (i.e. anything) about politics but that trip to the polls, and the need to use my vote, stuck with me. In the diary which I kept of the whole trip, which turned out to be almost two years in the end, I have stuck in the spoilt voting card which the lovely people manning the polling station let me keep.

The next morning I woke up and went to school and knew that George Bush Senior had won. We all went out into the playground and spelt out 'Bush' in the playground as he flew over in his helicopter.

Today, tonight, I sit in my flat in London, watching the BBC and thinking back to that day in America, hoping that the people of America use their vote and make a better choice than they did that day when as a 6 year old, I learnt about using my vote.

Please Vote!

2008-11-04T13:23:00.001Z

Rachel says it better than I can (as it is lunchtime and I am on a course)

"Dear American readers, If you are lucky enough to have a vote in the US elections, please use it. Even though the lines may be long, the system chaotic, the weather bad, your feet sore, the pollsters telling you that you don't need to, he'll win anyway...please vote. Thank you. Really, thank you. And I hope that you have a great day."

Halloween Dinner Party

2008-10-31T23:30:00.000Z

Ice hands in a blood punch

Jack'o'lantern

Window decorations

A candlelit dinner for 4 with a Tim Burton film theme and a menu of spiced pumpkin soup followed by devils on horseback accompanied by roast vegetables and baked potatoes, served with blood punch and lots of red wine

...

All images by me

Snow - in October

2008-10-29T08:45:00.000Z

image by me

...

A beastly day for weather; lashing rain, howling wind, freezing air, and then, snow. In October. A not insignificant blanket lay over the cars and walls and gardens in London last night. A tempting blanket, it seemed, for M, who promptly made snowballs and hurled them at trees, signs and when he thought he could get away with it, me.

Weekend in the Country

2008-10-27T08:00:00.000Z

Image by White Wolf Photography via Etsy

...

Returned to London late last night after a somewhat adventure packed weekend in the country which included in no particular order: an 80th birthday party, flooding (both roads and the airing cupboard due to a broken hot water tank), driving 700 miles visiting many places including Yorkshire and Guildford, a dead cow, puppy training and lots and lots of cake. Oh, and purchasing some pumpkins for a farm shop (like the ones above) to make soup and Jack'o'lanterns for Halloween.

...

Autumn In London

2008-10-22T21:07:00.008+01:00

The back garden

Attending my cousin's boyfriend's funeral yesterday left me with a migraine that I could not shift. I lay in bed this morning (and then on the bathroom floor after I'd been sick) and thought just how much more awful it must be for my cousin. Seeing her crumple into the front of the pew as the coffin was brought into the church was one of the most heartbreaking things I have seen.

This afternoon I was forced to venture out of the flat to get some milk and realised what a gorgeous day it was...

trees on our road on my way to the shop

On my return to the house I decided to have a bash at Hannah's welsh cakes which she so beautifully wrote about the other day. I did what she said but mine didn't look quite up to her standard (!) as I am sure you can tell from the photos below. They tasted good though, despite being a little crumbly and not quite spicy enough.

Chilled and cubed butter ready to rub into a mixture of sifted flour, baking powder and mixed all spice

Ready to roll out after mixing the flour with currants and a beaten egg

The last one left to eat with a cup of tea in the sitting room

...

All images by me

The Simple Woman's DayBook

2008-10-17T13:45:00.002+01:00

For Today... (from here)

Outside my Window...the roof tops of Lincoln's Inn with blue skies and some small clouds

I am thinking...am I really up to student style partying with my sister later on today?

I am thankful for...being alive, having a job and a home, a wonderful fiance, great family, fab friends

From the kitchen...no chance to cook this week so I ate a Pret sandwich

I am wearing...black suit, Boden jumper, boots and a cardigan (it's chilly in my office today, despite the sunshine)

I am reading...old favourite novels, Tatler and work documents

I am hoping...that my migraine disappears

I am creating...wedding related things

I am hearing...workman on the development nearby, taxis on Chancery Lane, a colleague dictating some letters,

Around the house...mostly laundry that still needs doing

One of my favorite things...a cup of tea and snuggling in bed

A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week...the aforementioned student partying with my sister, trying out The Cwtch's welsh cake recipe, catching up on some sleep

Here is a picture thought I am sharing with you... who says romance is dead: flowers which M brought to my office along with the Pret sandwich for me at lunchtime.

All About Me...

2008-10-07T08:30:00.001+01:00

So, I borrowed an idea from CeeCee: I answered the 12 questions about myself and then chose a corresponding photo from Flickr to go along with the answer.

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you attend?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you?
12. Your Flickr name?

Wanna play?: Type your answer to each of the above questions into Flickr's search. Using only the images that appear on the first page, choose your favorite and copy and paste each of the URL’s into the Mosaic Maker.

Can you guess my answers?

1. Evan Rachel Wood, 2. Meze Platter, 3. AMSTERDAM: St. Nicholas church, 4. When Waves Collide, 5. Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) from LOTR, 6. vintage tea set with cupcake, 7. Belém - Pará - Brazil, 8. Gökten dört elma düşmüş, 9. Call of the Raven (formerly Nature's Special Effects), 10. http://www.flickr.com/photos/amstersam/517386614/, 11. hollywood late night show, 12. COLD Play

Fantasy Interview

2008-10-01T08:00:00.000+01:00

What is your favourite beauty product in your bathroom?

Ren moisturiser and a caffeine eye roller - without these I would not make it to work

What is your fallback outfit?

for work: Black Banana Republic dress, cardigan, black tights and boots. as smart as a suit but much more comfy
at home: jeans, boots, t-shirt and jumper or cardigan. classic outfit which you can wear anywhere

What is your one piece of beauty advice?

Drink more water. my now fiance told me this when we first met. I'm still working on following it 6 years later

Your biggest fashion faux pas?

At 26 I am too young to look back on my biggest fashion faux pas as I am still living through my 20s and everyone looks back with horror at their teenage years. Yet if you cannot experiment then, when can you? Ask me again in 10 years and no doubt I will say that outfit I wore to a party last week...

What aspect of beauty do you hate?

People who are deluded about their size. Some things work well on skinny people; some things work well on curvy people. Work out which you are and don't wear things that don't suit your size, no matter how on trend it is. There is always ways to wear trends that do not involve clothes.

How do you think people perceive you from the way you dress?

I would hope that they see what I really am: a 20 something experimenting with style but not yet settled on all the answers

If you could steal anyone's wardrobe - past or present, fictional or real - whose would it be and why?

I know who's actual wardrobe I would steal - my friend who has a gorgeous walk in cupboard area off her bedroom, Carrie style, except her bathroom is next to it, not through it. It makes everything in it look twice as desirable, even the topshop stuff which everyone has.

Clothes wise, well, no-one's entire wardrobe but bits and pieces from everywhere I think. Failing that, more time and money to build up my own.

If you could change one part of your body, which would it be?

I'm not so fond of my nose in profile but not to the extent I would do anything about it. I would like better hair.

What are your desert island staples?

Suncream, cozy clothing and a blanket & pillow, books, tweezers, toothbrush & toothpaste.

What is a day in the life of Little Miss Rachel?

I get up later than I would like (I think I need a new alarm clock) and rush around to get to work. I spend the day mostly at my desk and leave between 6 and 8 depending on my work load. I am trying out going to the gym before home but I usually either go straight out for drinks or straight home for supper. We have a lot of friends over for drinks and food, informal dinner parties, that sort of thing. Then e-mail checking and bed with a cup of tea and a book.

Rainbow Books

2008-10-01T00:03:00.004+01:00

A long time ago, I wrote about rainbow coloured bookcases. So long ago, that it was before the blog had tags, and I can't find it again. I could find the photo though, on my computer, which was the original inspiration behind our bookcase.

Tonight, I was tidying up the flat before some friends come round for supper tomorrow night and was putting the books back in their piles in the wine crates which are both a book case and a way of blocking the door to nowhere, left behind when our flat was converted from a house, and decided to take a couple of photos.

Our books and bookcase doesn't have quite the same look about it as the top photo, but I am fond of our books none the less.

Top image - credit unknown

Bottom images - all by me

London Fashion Weekend

2008-09-25T23:10:00.007+01:00

...

When fashion week is over and the world's fashion press has moved away from London but the resulting photographs of next seasons trends have inspired you to do a little shopping, where better than a quick visit to London Fashion Weekend? Especially in this down sizing, down scaling economic climate there is nothing like a little 'investment' shopping of some designer pieces at not so designer prices that makes a twenty something feel like she is doing something about her money.

...

Essentially, London Fashion Weekend is a consumer heaven set up like a trade show with designers each having a stand in a purpose built marquee in the grounds of the National History Museum. Visitors book allocated time slots and then fill the carpeted aisles between the stands with posing and hair tossing and spending. To make it easier on the wallet and mind at each stand you are presented with a docket for your purchases. No money changes hands, you merely collect them all and pay at the tills at the end and go back round and collect your items. Tricks the brain, it does. "Do you really need an orange passport cover?" the rational part of my brain stated boldly, as I squatted inelegantly on the floor looking through a box of leather goods. "But I've always wanted one and Look. Here is a beautiful leather one. For £4. £4. Reduced from £29.99. It is A BARGAIN" shouted the other part, drowning out the other, "and look, I can hand it to the lady, who puts it in a bag, and gives me the docket and it's, well, it's almost free isn't it...". And everywhere across the weird tented two layer structure this mental argument is being played out in every stand.

...

Of course, it's not just about the shopping, or the posing. It isn't? No, there are sponsors who put on events, make-up lessons, blow dries, styling sessions, show off the latest in TVs, coffee machines, drinks and cocktails. There are goody bags to be bought and paraded. And a catwalk show to watch where the latest trends are shown and make-up and hair dressing tips handed out like favours at a wedding. One stand was showing a Miele washing machine in which they were washing roses to demonstrate the new cold wash short silk cycle - the wash was so gentle that the roses came out beautifully. It looked so incongruous though, delicate flowers in a machine that I stopped to take some photos.

Above: Roses which had just been washed in a washing machine.

In previous years I have attended the event on the Saturday or even Sunday. This year I decided to go on the Thursday night and managed to get there before the crowds. It was an altogether more pleasant experience. There was room to walk around, to try on clothes, to hesitate, to think, to return. I stopped and drank espresso, sat there on a high bar stool and watched the other visitors drifting past in ones, twos and the occasional child with her mother, clearly brought along straight after school. At the other end of the show I stopped to try and campari and orange juice. Upstairs I had my eyebrows threaded - and what a skill that is, although the first yank did bring a tear to my eye - and watched the catwalk show from a corner.

...

And then, suddenly, I was tired. Laden with the weekend bag that I purchased, for a mere £15, and the goody bag which included all sorts of interesting items including some kind of scary micro-dermabrasion device, the music was too repetitive and the place was too full of teenagers, so I beat a hasty retreat. Until next fashion week, that is.

...

Below (and top photo): Folk trend on the catwalk

Images by me

...

Moment of Need

2008-09-23T22:44:00.002+01:00

It was just as I reached the bus-stop this evening that another wave of stomach pains hit me. I sat down on the bench and breathed in and breathed out and stared at the floor, fixated on the slightly old vomit where someone else had been unlucky earlier in the weekend. The pains didn't subside and I started to wonder what I was going to do. My phone was in the bathroom at home; there was no-one at work; I had an appointment to get to. I was on my own. The thought of fainting into someone else's vomit was too much so I moved away from the bus stop and lent against the wall at the side of the pavement, staring at the floor and people's feet trotting past, going home, going out, going past all the while trying not to let my panic escalate. "Come on Rachel" I told myself, "breathe and get on the bus. Once you're home you can ring up, cancel the appointment and then lie down".

A hand reached out and took my arm. I looked up and a kind lady slightly older than me said "Let's get you to a cafe so you can sit down and I'll get you some water. Do you need me to call you a doctor?" and with that she walked me over the road and did exactly that. I declined the doctor but almost cried, well, actually, I cried a little bit, at her kindness. She lent me her phone and I cancelled my appointment and then called M who called me an Addison Lee car to come and rescue me. And she waited there, with me, in that cafe, until my taxi arrived and I gave her a lift to her office on the way. On the way, we talked. Two strangers, thrust together into a shared situation. She too was a lawyer who had followed a slightly different career path. She was qualified and successful. She told me that I would be too.

So many people tell me that they could never live in London; it's too dangerous and too impersonal, that no-one cares, that you could die and no-one would notice. Ok, so I once had my purse stolen on a bus but not today. Today I was in the city of London. I needed help and in my moment of need, someone helped me. And I am very grateful.

Weekends

2008-09-21T23:07:00.003+01:00

Lying in the park earlier, propped against a picnic hamper on one of those plastic backed picnic rugs and the sun warming my face, I looked around my group of friends and though "some people don't have birthday parties this great yet this, for us, is just a normal weekend". A dinner party until 3am on Friday night, lounging and then dinner and a party on Saturday and a Sunday afternoon picnic and pub visit to round off the weekend; a large group of our closest friends and some of the last decent weather of the year. Perhaps I am not so old yet.

What's the Matter with Fabric?

2008-09-19T08:00:00.001+01:00

Oh, I should be a headline writer... Or not. But last night I did get to taste a little of someone else's job: that of a music journalist. Now, you might have heard of a night club called Fabric. And you've no doubt heard of the 02 centre (otherwise known as the Dome). Well, Fabric has opened a sister super club at the 02 centre called Matter. Is the headline thing making sense now? Anyway, BestFriend's boyfriend got us 2 press passes to the press launch. So BestFriend and I dressed up and went out. On a school night.

Matter is like a cathedral for dance music lovers to worship their DJs. If God is a DJ he is surely to be found at Matter. That is, if he can find it. It is a long walk from the tube station along a bumpy track which did not have high-heels in mind. Inside however the sound pumps out of enormous speakers and soars to the very rafters of the club (well, VIP and VVIP area anyway). Lasers cut their way through the smoke machined air which hovers low over a sprung dance floor which makes the crowd lift as one as the beats lift you higher and higher. It also makes you, ahem, vibrate. Yes, all parts of you. The lights cast shadows over the lower areas illuminating auditorium style concrete benches, last night prettily occupied with posers, soon to be occupied with those dance music lovers which could be mistaken for refugees by the time the night is out. Look to the left and there is a bar which runs the whole length of the wall, grey, concrete, metal, the whole place is grey and clinical, and staffed by hundreds of Matter worker bees who fill drinks, collect glasses, keep control, signal to the smoking area. Look up, which you will, as you will wonder why it is so light for a night club and you will see higher seating areas and a strange walkway, which looks rather like the guitar track in Guitar hero, only upside down, and then right right at the top, a red tinged area, the VIP section. Find the stairs, if you can, being careful not to scratch your jewellery or silk dress against the rough metal railings or concrete edges, or to trip your satin shoe against a rough step (trainers are better footwear here by far) and enter the VIP area and you will find cosy seating instead of concrete benches and a birds eye view of the whole club, reinforcing your impression that once you are a VIP you are on top of the world and have the world's permission to look down on everyone else. Once you have grown bored of the unusual view of the sound booth and countless posing people - have you ever seen primping like that of a male band about to have their photo taken - you wind your way back down the steps (or take the lift if you are so inclined) and return to ground level and to cold clinical concrete. The bar area is full now, so you have to push past people gathering around strange alien tables, the noise so loud that it almost feels silent - you can see people's mouths moving but you cannot work out what they say - the blue UV lights casting a hospital like glow over everyone. Once past the crowds round the bar you head back up to the middle floor, in search of loos. Unisex ones or up the metal staircase to the girls only? It matters not, they are roughly the same. Cubicles round the edges, big metal rectangular troughs in the middle. Not as cool as the huge round metal ones at Fabric with their complicated foot pedal system which immediately singles out the newbies, but still trough like enough that the animal illusion is complete once pilled up people start washing in them, or more pleasantly, vomiting in them. The doors are kinder on the ear than the prison style clanking ones at Fabric; the loo paper however is of substandard quality. Thankfully the Dyson hand-dryers make up for it. Wander around, for that is what people seem to spend most of their time doing, a pointless continuous movement of people, until you have seen your fill, listened to your body weight in sound, carried yourself into oblivion on a tidal wave of intensifying beats which lift you up and up and up... Fabric is not a venue, it's a scene, someone once told me. Matter is more of a venue, I think, but time will tell.

Matter, The O2, Peninsula Square, London, SE10 ODY

What would I take from my desk?

2008-09-17T18:30:00.001+01:00

The BBC asks: "if you loss your job today, what would you take from your desk?". In other words, what personal items do we have in and on our desks to make the long working days just a little bit more personal?

So here goes:

University mug
Mug given to me for my birthday
Coca-cola glass
10 novels which I have finished reading at work and never made it home
Contact lens solution
Painkillers, spare tights, tampons etc
Files of work from law school
Law books which belong to me
hand cream
personal file (e.g. records of work/courses etc)
photo of M and I on holiday
fountain pen
umbrella
small pretty mirror given to me by BestFriend which sits on my computer

There are obviously a few other things I have at work too like mustard, orange squash etc but I think if I had to leave, right now, I wouldn't bother to save them. Likewise I would not make off with confidential client information, the contents of the stationery cupboard or any expensive but useful text books. And that's not just because by the time I loaded all of the things I do own into a box there would be no room for anything else...

The Times also had an interesting article about the wives of bankers/traders who gave up work to look after the children etc and now their husbands are out of work with limited options. Not many people feel sorry for them. Only last night I was discussing with M what conversations were happening in those households. One can only hope that if you'd made your fortune as a trader or banker you would have been clever enough to follow some sound financial advice, realised that you make a lot when the going is good but that it can all very easily be lost and so diversified portfolios and kept an emergency easy access account so that you could still pay the mortgage, school fees and household expenses until you found something else to do. Like become a maths teacher. There's a shortage of those.

50 Things Every British Girl Should Have...

2008-09-15T08:00:00.000+01:00

... according to the Sunday Times... (blue text by them, purple added by me)

1 GOLD HOOP EARRINGS For days when you wanna look J.Lo glam. These shouldn’t be so big as to look like you haven’t got over the gypsy trend, nor so small as to make you look like a three-year-old on a council estate.

Seems I have failed already. No gold hoop earrings in this British girl's jewellery box. But seeing as I have only ever had one day when I wished to look J.Lo glam (and that was at a fancy dress party with the dress code Bling Bling) I suppose I am not missing out. My earring taste is a lot more subtle. Pearls, shells, that sort of thing.

0/1

2 A BERET For bad-hair days. It will take you straight to Kim Basinger in Batman. Just don’t obsess about the angle: they should be worn with nonchalance.

Gosh, not getting off to the best start am I? Berets to me are less Kim Basinger, more too old for CCF. Beanies or trilbies are my hat of choice these days.

0/2

3 A VINTAGE OSSIE CLARK DRESS Separates the women from the girls. Fabulously flattering at any age, from 18 to 80.

Doesn't so much separate the women from the girls as the haves and have-nots. Do you know how much a vintage ossie clark dress costs? Well, Shikasuki, my favourite vintage shop, sells them. I tried one on when wedding dress shopping. Thankfully it didn't fit - it was £750 for an ankle length crepe dress which made my (size 8-10) hips look fat. Beautiful, yes. Fabulously flattering, I think not.

0/3

4 EXPENSIVE BLACK LACE LINGERIE At least one set. For obvious reasons.

Finally, something I do own. Although it depends on your definition of 'expensive'. For obvious reasons.

1/4

5 A PAIR OF THERMAL SHORTS For when you want to wear a skirt without tights, but it’s a bit parky outside.

What? OK, who is writing this? This is England. If it's cold you wear tights. Even in August. Thermal shorts? Never even heard of them and I thought I knew about these things...

1/5

6 SILK STOCKINGS A rite of passage for every woman — and, subsequently, for her man. In slightly unusual shades — such as petrol or burgundy — they make an outfit. And in this country they can be worn for three-quarters of the year.

Exactly - so why the need for (5)? Mine actually happen to be burgundy (and are tights, but near enough).

2/6

7 A DECENT TRENCH COAT Some people are scared of trenches because they look fussy — they’re not. Everyone from Burberry to M&S does them, so there’s no excuse.

I think I need to go shopping... Actually, this is something which I have been trying to buy for a while but can never find anything I am satisfied with at a price which is agreeable. Although sister-in-law to be recommends the ones from Ted Baker.

2/7

8 A LEATHER JACKET It should be cropped and fitted nicely around your waist. Takes you from a gig to the supermarket via your mum’s and a first date. Enough said.

Aha. I have one of these. Very useful and actually a lot warmer than I thought it would be. Mine is dark bottle green as I thought it would be nice to own something that wasn't black and has a nipped in ruched waist.

3/8

9 A GOOD WALLET Because if a bag matters, so does your purse — and people see it all the time. Jimmy Choo’s, we feel, are particularly well thought-out.

It isn't Jimmy Choo but it is decent. Nice leather, size of a small clutch bag, holds everything. I love it. Makes me smile every time I use it. A decent investment at London Fashion Weekend several years ago.

4/9

10 A PAIR OF FALSIES (eyelashes, that is). Instant divadom.

Mine are so long that they are like wearing sun visors, only a mini pair for each eye. Best kept for festivals and the like as they are rather OTT. The smaller pair I had reached a sorry end on a fantastic Audrey Hepburn themed hen weekend in Bath...

5/10

11 A VINTAGE DRESS One that’s seen much better days — for being very trashy in.

That's more like it... yes, I have several of these, mostly from the aforementioned Shikasuki although a couple from my mother's wardrobe via the old dressing up box. My favourite is bright emerald/turquoise silk shift which is just trashed enough you don't mind wearing it but fab enough that it looks the part.

6/11

12 A PAIR OF MAD SUNGLASSES They should be too mad to go on a date in, but just mad enough to feel liberated.

Tick. In fact, I have such a small face that all sunglasses look slightly mad on me. My favourite pair is a pair of RayBan aviators which are enormous but still look cool...

7/12

13 A SHORT, BLACK BOB WIG Check out of you-ness and be Louise Brooks for the day.

Nope, can't say I have one of these? Does anyone? I rather prefer my own long-ish, blonde-ish hair thanks.

7/13

14 A STRING OF REAL PEARLS OR REAL PEARL EARRINGS Great for the complexion, as they diffuse light across your face.

Tick. Not much else to say about pearls is there?

8/14

15 A T-SHIRT DRESS One you’ve had since you were 22. Just throw it on and go.

Many of these - mostly from American Apparel who make the best ones. Just right for a summers night raving at Fabric.

9/15

16 A PAIR OF MEN’S BROGUES For looking playfully serious.

There are lots of these in our house but M wears them so well that I leave that look to him...

9/16

17 SOMETHING DELICATE AND ANCIENT It must be kept in acid-free tissue paper — anything made of Victorian lace, for example.

I think my turquoise 60s style hat fits this. In it's original hat box too.

10/17

18 DEREK ROSE FLANNEL PYJAMAS For spending Sundays and sickies in.

Sickies - what are those?! No derek rose pyjamas for me, I still wear my old teddy bears ones which I've had since my early teens when I am ill...

11/18

19 WHITE CORDS Less flash than white denim, more elegant than jeans. Wear with a navy pea coat, and you are Jackie O.

White trousers, yes, black cords, no. White cords are still too a little Elizabeth Hurley for me. Either that or Boden mummy...

12/19

20 A KHAKI PARKA Just like the one Kate Moss wore with those Westwood boots in 2000. Never goes out of style, always looks cool — whatever anyone says.

Yep, got one of those. Doesn't everyone? Good old 'primarni'...

13/20

21 GREEK SANDALS Ones that age beautifully and last for ever.

I suppose, technically, since mine are Massimo Dutti they are not Greek but they are in style and spirit. Plain enough to wear to work with a summer dress, fab enough that they go with anything. I barely take them off in summer yet already they are back in their box for next year.

14/21

22 BOLD STATEMENT HEELS Six inches? Toe cleavage? Huge platform? Orange PVC? Perfect. Shoes that get people talking. And never stop.

I don't actually tend to go in very much for plain shoes - so all mine are statement pieces one way or another. See wedding shoes for confirmation...

15/22

23 A BLACK CASHMERE ROLLNECK If you must wear basics, console yourself with luxury. Audrey Hepburnesque and great with jeans and minis.

Well, it's a black roll neck, at any rate. Goes with everything especially to work.

16/23

24 HAIRSPRAY (ELNETT) AND KIRBY GRIPS For dramatic evening up-dos.

Not much more to add to this, is there?

17/24

25 A CAMEO BROOCH These are practical, but always remarkable, and their colours don’t clash with outfits — unlike jewelled brooches.

Not a fan of brooches really. I prefer a statement necklace or scarf...

17/25

26 BOAT NECKS If you have a strong collarbone, show off this alternative erogenous zone.

Looks better on my skinny frame than some styles... I prefer mine in jersey rather than jumper material as I think they hang better. My favourite is by C & C California.

18/26

27 A WATCH Needn’t be expensive, but should either have a small face and a fabric or leather strap; or be chunky and sporty — aka the “boyfriend watch”.

I think some people are watch people and some people are not. I am NOT. I rarely wear one, mainly because I refuse to spend much money on one and consequently it is always broken. Has nothing to do with my inability to be on time...

18/27

28 JAPANESE DARK DENIM JEANS Very simple, narrow, but not skinny, wide or bootcut. Never, ever wash them.

Mine are actually Topshop but same overall affect. Haha. Looks good with a grey jumper.

19/28

29 A SLIGHTLY-TOO-SHORT LCD (little coloured dress). Black is okay, but purple (see Michelle Obama), red or jade are better.

The same one that falls under the vintage dress category above.

20/29

30 A COLOSSAL COCKTAIL RING For when you need instant cheer.

I have a red one from Shikasuki but these days I find my engagement ring does the same job...

21/30

31 DECENT WELLINGTON BOOTS Le Chameau, Argyll and Hunter all pass muster. Never be caught in a shiny novelty pair — you will be outed as a novice in an instant.

A novice what? Mine are dark purply-blue and are Hunters. I love them: the most comfortable boots I have ever worn. Essential for festivals (I wore mine the entire weekend at Camp Bestival despite a lack of rain or even mud) and good for Sunday afternoon walks in the country as well, as they are not so bright they will frighten cows.

22/31

32 LEATHER DRIVING GLOVES. For looking murderously chic. Get them from the high street — no point spending a fortune, as gloves are so easily lost.

Tick. Marks & Spencer's outlet village. When you wear a suit to work you don't want to be let down by orange cashmere ones...

23/32

33 A BRETON TOP Insouciant, witty, timeless, French, sexy.

I have a couple but am careful when to wear them as it is my Mother's signature style.

24/33

34 CASHMERE SOCKS It’s not a style thing, it’s a love thing: a love-yourself thing.

One of my favourite things about winter...

25/34

35 A SILK SQUARE It can serve as a belt, a neckscarf, a duster — and as a headscarf, is just perfect for autumn bike rides.

My favourite was my mother's. also looks good tied on a handbag or round the brim of a hat.

26/35

36 A HIDDEN TATTOO The element of surprise is essential.

Nope, none. Hidden or otherwise. I just can't imagine finding something I wanted written on my body for the rest of my life

26/36

37 RUBY SLIPPERS Just the one pair?

Mine are actually pink. And there are 2 pairs. One pair has silk flowers on. Never fails to cheer me up.

27/37

38 A GREY HOODIE Otherwise you’ll look like you were never a teenager.

It's not grey but does have the Rage Against the Machine logo on. A favourite teenage keepsake which I still wear. Takes people by surprise that a blonde 20 something almost lawyer still loves her heavy music!

28/38

39 A FAMILY HEIRLOOM Bracelet, brooch or diamond-set watch — to ignite conversation.

Sadly none as yet. Although that can also be seen as a good thing.

28/39

40 A SHAG-ME BRA To be seen peeking out from your top.

Hmmm. Not a fan of visible underwear. But yes, I do own a couple...

29/40

41 A PAIR OF GOLD LAME LEGGINGS Because you never know when you might be called upon to go dancing, and it’s hard to keep up with what the kids wear in clubs these days.

Nope. Never. I don't even own a pair of leggings. Boring...

29/41

42 A TINY DECADENT EVENING BAG It should only have space for a note and a credit card.

I have a gold sequined one from Granny.

30/42

43 SOMETHING FROM CHANEL Anything at all.

Not yet; I am working on it...

30/43

44 A PAIR OF FAKE SPECTACLES For last-minute librarian chic.

Who needs fake ones when you can have the real thing?

31/44

45 A FUR STOLE Fake works fine. Guaranteed to elicit attention when worn flung over shoulders with red lipstick.

No fur stole, fake or otherwise, much as I would like one. Maybe I will keep looking in the vintage shops as I could never buy one new.

31/45

46 A BROWN LEATHER TOTE These look better the more battered and bruised they get.

My work bag. A firm favourite.

32/46

47 A BIG, PATTERNED, WOOLLEN SCARF Something hippie-ish you can swathe yourself in come rain or shine. The best are bought on holiday and have bright and pretty colours. Will take a T-shirt and jeans to stylish and original levels.

I own many, many of these. I can't remember a holiday when I didn't return with a new one. My favourites though are limited to two: the red and gold silk knitted one with peacock feathers that my father brought back from China and a grey & red woven one that my sister found for me in Vietnam.

33/47

48 A TEA DRESS The greatest thing to come out of the 1940s — utterly wearable and endlessly flattering. Vintage numbers are always best.

I have one which is my wedding outfit standby. That worked better when I went to fewer weddings where the guests were a different set of friends each time.

34/48

49 A 100% SILK SLIP Like the one Rachel from Friends wore on her date with Joshua. Every girl needs one for night-time. A pain to wash, but totally worth it.

I don't remember that Rachel's one but I am a fan of mine, especially in summer.

35/49

50 SPANX Because, sigh, we all have days when we need them.

Not yet, thankfully...

35/50 (70%): I think I should stop shopping.

On feeling old

2008-09-12T08:00:00.000+01:00

I had a telephone call last night which I answered just as I returned home from BestFriends house, at the respectable time of 10.30pm. It was Littler A, back at university and on a train heading towards London. At least I think she was on a train. It's what I think she said, but then it was hard to hear her over the din. She may have been in the monkey enclosure at the zoo, or the common room of a public school. There was definitely shrieking. "Rachi baby!" she giggled, "what clubs in London stay open all night on a Thursday?". I thought back to the days when I used to be able to party all night, on a whim. I thought back to the last club I had been to on a school night, Mamalanji, where I had danced til 4am and still made it to work. I thought of my sister's budget and reached for Time Out.

...

I have spoken before of my love of e-bay. Sometimes I look at shoes, sometimes clothes, handbags, things. Last week I bought a vintage embroidered tablecloth and 8 wicker place mats. The tablecloth arrived yesterday. Once I had finished organising Littler A's night out (having to terminate the call when I could no longer hear whether I was being listened to or not) I spread it over our table and thought "this is the difference between 26 and 21, between being a fiancee and being single. She dances all night. I try to beautify my flat and my table and practice being a housewife". All at once I felt contented but sadly nostalgic.

Sunshine and housewives

2008-09-11T08:00:00.000+01:00

When is the last time I saw some sunshine? I need some sunshine in my life. Everything is so grey, even the jumpers I am wearing are grey. It is cold, chilly, too chilly for the second week of September. Where is the Indian summer that we were promised to compensate for the greyest August on record?

I am practising being a house wife. We picked blackberries at the weekend, two bagfuls. Thankfully we had Lily the dog with us. Dogs = plastic bags (unused). We brought home, well, back to the holiday cottage, two large food bags bursting with sweet smelling carefully picked purply-black ripe blackberries and I made them into blackberry goo. Perhaps it has a proper name but I do not know it. The blackberry goo is now in the freezer. Back in London I made applesauce. Two carrier bags of Shropshire garden apples. I cut and cored and peeled and persuaded M to help as well. We made a pressure cooker full of apple sauce. The apple sauce too is in the freezer, in small Tupperware boxes. Next weekend when friends come for Sunday lunch I shall make some pastry and fill it with home made apple and blackberry goo. And make custard to go with it. On Tuesday I made banana and ginger and chocolate muffins with some left over bananas, a bit of ginger and the ends of two packets of Green & Blacks dark chocolate. I went to open the cake-tin to put the cooled muffins in but it was already occupied by some white furry mould and what might have been the end of something else I made a few weeks ago. The muffins are now in a Tupperware jug. I think I need some more practice.

Autumn Weekends I

2008-09-09T08:00:00.000+01:00

Image by M

...

Back to School

2008-09-02T08:29:00.002+01:00

If ever there was a weather to signify the start of a new school term than surely a chill to the air and torrential rain must be high up on the list. Despite sunshine yesterday small autumnal leaves drifted down onto me as I walked to the tube. Today I am going to have to move fast or I will look like a drowned rat by the time I walk out of my front gate.

Whilst I do love summer, and who doesn't, there is a small part of me excited by the change in the seasons, the nip in the air, the earthy smells and colours of autumn. For me, autumn rather spring will always be the backdrop of new beginnings: school, university, law school, my first proper job. It may have been 8 years since I went off to university but there is still that undercurrent that something has ended and something even more exciting is about to begin...

...it would just be nice if it could remain as summer for one more week as we are off to the beach at the weekend for one last trip this season. After that, it can be as autumnal as it likes.

Summer Ends

2008-08-28T08:00:00.001+01:00

London seems so grey in comparison to Brittany where the sea sparkled and the sky was the deepest of blues. The August bank holiday always seems to signify the end of summer and the weather this week hasn't dispelled this image. I know I have PMT at the moment which is no doubt not aiding the lift of my mood but I feel a little restless. In many ways September is a gorgeous and beautiful month but I can't help but wish we had got past the in-between stage and were properly in the boots, cardigans and autumnal colours phase rather than this grey one.

Spent much of the week sailing but when we weren't sailing I was reading: The Devil Wears Prada (again), The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton (which was surprising compelling), Wives & Sweethearts by Lilian Harry, School's Out by Sarah Tucker and then I am part of the way through Andrew Marr's The History of Modern Britain. Marr's book is interesting and explanatory and reads well. I will comment further when I have finished it. As for the others, they were holiday reading through-and-through.

Morton's The Forgotten Garden was the most interesting read as I was genuinely gripped by it at one point and the twists were enough that you weren't quite sure what was going to happen, although you did find out all the answers in the end. Satisfying, but somehow works that leave you guessing a little are more appealing in the long run. My little sister made surprisingly short work of The Secret History by Donna Tartt - she had asked me to bring her two books, so I chose that and Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood - which was perhaps not all that surprising since she has just returned from a year in an East Coast university, although I hope she did not identify too closely with all the material.

Perhaps when I can summons some more energy I shall post a review or two. For now though all my spare evening time is spent wedding organising. For further details if you are interested see here...

Carte Postale

2008-08-20T21:24:00.003+01:00

Dear Little Miss Rachel
Being the 21st century a little less of a postcard more of an electronic message and perhaps even a photo if I can manage it (which I can't as connection too slow). Currently somewhere in Brittany 'checking the weather forecast' otherwise known as an excuse to visit a bar for some bière and a little wifi action. Listening to a live french band and drinking something alcoholic. Weather has been a little off, it was blowing a gale for the first three days so no sailing rather holed up in port witnessing Petite Anglaises' comments about married french men being utter s***ts firsthand. And no we didn't go with them to le discothèque in Carnac despite their best efforts.
More sailing tomorrow, back to Angleterre sometime soon.
Au Revoir
x

High Street Rage

2008-08-14T08:30:00.000+01:00

I went shopping briefly after work yesterday; a quick 45 minute dash around some of the shops in Angel before my visit to the beauty salon and some pre-hols maintenance.

It is August. As far as I am aware the majority of British holiday makers take their vacances during the school holidays. So mid July - end August. Others without children perhaps start earlier, say Mid May onwards and the entire holiday period probably stretches until at least mid-September, perhaps later.

Being as I am going on a sailing holiday which I hope will contain at least a few hours of sunshine (although judging from the weather forecast we shall be lucky if we get a day without rain) I will need a bikini or two. I've grown a little since last summer and one of my bikinis no longer fits properly. I decided I could probably do with another one, so I started my search in Accessorize. They had a few bikinis on the sale rail - all size 16 and larger, mostly bottoms. A more thorough search of the shop revealed three styles on a rail at the back, again all 14-16s and no tops. A quick check with a sales assistant confirmed that indeed these were all the swimwear they had on sale.

"We've got the autumn stuff in now" she trilled.

"But it's August. I'm going on holiday. Don't you think people might actually want to buy summer/holiday items when they need them? (i.e. the month they go, not three months before) Not have to make do with the few sizes left in the sale".

"Well, they've been in the sale for a few weeks now, that's all we have left" she replied

So even if I had gone on holiday in July I still would have found the bikinis in the sale. And when I asked her to pass onto her manager that most people perhaps might like to be able to buy things in the season when they need them she responded "complain to customer services then". So I left.

A quick look round the other shops in the area confirmed the same thing: swimwear in the sale, if in the shop at all. No sizes on sale smaller than a 14 - no tops. I wonder if the shops order more bottoms than tops or whether there has been an odd run on people buying tops but not bottoms?

So I shall make do with last years too small bikini and the rest of the time I shall wear pants and shorts. If it is not p***ing with rain...

2008-08-12T08:30:00.000+01:00

Not feeling terribly inspired this week, I have to say. One of those weeks where work is a little dull and you feel rather tired all the time. This cross blogging is also a little strange as I am not sure where I should place this post. Perhaps I will be lazy and cut and paste it onto both...

We did manage to do some more to the flat this weekend though, in amongst some dinners and a birthday party. We have reorganised what we call the 'garden' room (i.e. it opens onto the garden and there is no other obvious use for it) so that it flows better and I have a space now to do wedding (and hopefully not wedding related) craft and diy projects. We have also done a lot of de-cluttering - we have got rid of another 2 bags full of old clothes on free cycle as well as a bread bin and we threw away another 2 boxes of paper recycling and some assorted odds and ends which were not in good enough repair to be passed on.

The bedroom looks more like a proper room too now. Previously we have had both the doors open but one of them blocked off by a chair. We eventually decided this weekend to just close the door and use the space for storage, placing the chair in front. I hadn't anticipated what a difference it would make but the room looks much larger now. We have also put all the books back in the sitting room, recycled a good proportion of our 'sentimental' wine bottle collection and put up a print on the wall as well as bringing in some candles and finding places for all the clothes. Where once someone commented "is that a bedroom, or the world's largest cupboard" on peering round the folding doors which separate the bedroom and sitting room, it is now clearly a bedroom, and a relaxing one too.

Our next task I think will have to be the bathroom. Sorting out all our clothes meant that there is a huge mound of laundry as you cannot put something in a drawer which is not clean. Sadly we have had a rainy weekend so I didn't manage to dry any washing outside and the dehumidifier has already pulled 2 and half litres of water out of the air (recycled straight into the watering can) so it might well have to be a trip to the laundrette at the top of the road. Alternate weeks of hot and then rainy weather have doubled or even tripled the mould growth on the ceiling above the shower, so we need to clean it all off and then paint it with some anti-mould paint. Once the washing has gone and the mould, I think it should feel emptier and lighter in there. Larger than our old Primrose Hill bathroom, but it is still definitely tiny.

Make Do and Mend: Banana Bread

2008-07-31T08:00:00.000+01:00

Take the very end part of one jar of white sugar and one jar of brown sugar and using a wooden spoon bash out any lumps and combine to make a pale brown colour (175g). Add half a packet of cooking margarine which is definitely past the shops date but which looks and smells absolutely fine (125g). Cream together until combined.

Take 2 eggs which went out of date 2 weeks ago but when floated in a jug of water still sit on the bottom. Break one egg into a separate bowl and smell it, just in case. Add to the butter&sugar mixture. Beat well. Repeat with second egg.

Sieve 280g of plain flour into a bowl before adding half to the mixing bowl. Stir well. Add 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda.

Measure 125ml of milk. Add half to the mixing bowl. Stir well. Add the rest of the flour. Stir well. Add the rest of the milk. Stir.

Take up to three old soft bananas (depending on how many you have and how pronounced a banana flavour you wish) and mash. Fold into mixture. Add 1tsp vanilla essence (if you remember) and 75g chopped walnuts (if you have any).

Tip into greased loaf tin and bake on gas mark 4 for one hour.

Eat warm with butter and a cup of tea.

Books I have read

2008-07-22T13:30:00.000+01:00

Diary of a Surprise Mum says that "Someone” reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books "they’ve" printed ( I coudn't work out who 'they' are). It’s not the Big Read though — they don’t publish books, and they’ve only featured these books so far. So here we go…

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read
2) Italicize those you have read part of and will go back and finish when you get some time
3) Underline the books you LOVE
4) Highlight the ones you still want to read but just have not had a chance yet*
5) colour red the ones you own but have yet to read
6) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who’ve read 6 or less and force books upon them.

1. The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
2. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
3. The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
4. Lord of the Flies - William Golding*
5. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
6. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
7. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
8. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle*
9. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
10. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
11. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
12. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
13. His Dark Materials (trilogy) - Philip Pullman
14. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
15. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
16. The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien
17. Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
18. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
19. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
20. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
21. Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis
22. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis
23. Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne
24. Animal Farm - George Orwell
25. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
26. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
27. On The Road - Jack Kerouac*
28. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
29. Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White
30. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
31. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
32. Complete Works of Shakespeare
33. Ulysses - James Joyce
34. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
35. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
36. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
37. The Bible
38. The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
39. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
40. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
41. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
42. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
45. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
46. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
47. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
48. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
49. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
50. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
51. Little Women - Louisa M. Alcott
52. Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
53. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
54. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
55. Middlemarch - George Eliot
56. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
57. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
58. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
59. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
60. Emma - Jane Austen
61. Persuasion -Jane Austen
62. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
63. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden*
64. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
65. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving*
66. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
67. Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery
68. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
69. Atonement - Ian McEwan
70. Dune - Frank Herbert
71. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
72. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
73. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon*
74. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
75. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez*
76. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
77. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
78. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
79. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
80. Bridget Jones’ Diary - Helen Fielding
81. Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
82. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
83. Dracula - Bram Stoker
84. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
85. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
86. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
87. Germinal - Emile Zola
88. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
89. Possession - A.S. Byatt
90. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
91. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
92. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
93. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
94. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
95. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
96. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
97. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
98. Watership Down – Richard Adams
99. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
100. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas

31
19
6*
11

999

2008-07-11T08:00:00.000+01:00

We found him lying on the floor half way up a footpath leading from the station to the main road. He was being helped by a lady who could not speak much English and she seemed grateful that we stopped. He half made it to his feet, hauling himself up on the railing before staggering and falling back to the ground. His rucksack was unzipped and we could see medication inside. He pulled himself to a sitting position and mumbled incoherently. Then the heavens opened and rain started pouring down, soaking us all in an instant. We asked him what was the matter, he said he didn't know but he felt 'heavy'.

Decision time: we couldn't leave him there but it didn't seem enough of an 'emergency' to call an ambulance. The mumbling and the rain continued. I called 999. Asked for an ambulance, explained our location and said it didn't seem a proper emergency but I thought he needed help. Five minutes later a paramedic arrived in an ambulance-car. He established the man was an alcoholic who had just been released from hospital and who had other health problems. The man who wouldn't tell us anything beyond his first name seemed to trust the paramedic with his uniform and accompanying kit-bags.

We waited for a few minutes to see if we could do anything else but the paramedic said that there wasn't anything but that we had done the right thing in calling him. So we left, walked on to our intended destination: the church where we hope to get married next summer.

Wedding Blog

2008-07-08T22:04:00.003+01:00

For anyone who is interested I have set up a new blog Peacock Feathers & Diamond Rings where I intend to write about all wedding related topics thus leaving this blog to my usual topics...

Also, the ring picture is now on the Duttson Rocks website.

The Wedding Planning Commences...

2008-07-08T08:00:00.002+01:00

Who knew that planning a wedding would be so complicated?! Obviously, being a girl, I have dreamt about the day the man who would become my husband would propose to me and the beautiful wedding that would follow. I have dreamt about it and formulated plans, colour schemes, ideas. Only I never had to think about practicality; how all the plans would fit together and more importantly, how much they would cost.

Yes, cost, the bug bear of my life and currently, the wedding. Add the word 'wedding' to anything and it seems to triple in price. Obviously on a Saturday in June there are limited reasons for wanting a marquee venue for 120 people. It doesn't take a genius to work out what is going on. What it might take though is a genius to work out how to incorporate all our plans and ideas into a budget that we, my parents and my future parents-in-law can afford.

Thankfully, M and I have pretty similiar ideas about what our wedding should be like. It took us about 10 minutes to agree on our ideal location followed by a week convincing the investors. We know what we would like in theory but finding the people to make it a reality is slower to come. Perhaps the most frustrating thing is finding out pricing - most companies wish to provide individual quotes which abstractly is fine but rather time consuming when you are looking for ideas. What we immediately want to know is roughly what their average quote is. Do they routinely charge over £1000 or is it more like £500. I don't really want to waste my time getting personalised quotes to find that it was never ever going to be within my budget at all.

Other observations regarding the wedding business this week relate to church weddings. I can see why people don't bother if they are happy with a civil/registry office wedding. Aside from the initial meeting with the vicar there are at least three wedding preparation sessions to attend (well intentioned I am sure, but after 6 and half years together we are already aware that people tend to like to give and receive affection in different ways...) and many many extra costs to pay. And that's after the realisation that you can marry in one of about 4 churches unless you have a 'special connection' and a licence from the Arch-Bishop, which is what we are relying on, a London wedding not been an attractive or affordable option. I know they don't want people entering into marriage thoughtlessly but surely the church as a whole should be making it easier not harder to have a church wedding.

Still, small rantings aside, I am so excited at being engaged and really looking forward to the wedding already. I keep looking at M seeing how much happier he looks and thinking this man is going to be my husband. He really will be with me forever. And after that, wedding budgets don't seem to matter that much after all.

Engagement Parties

2008-07-05T12:57:00.003+01:00

What a busy week it has been. One week on since we got engaged and we have been out to dinner 6 times and had almost as many bottles of champagne. We have decided where (ideally) we will get married; we now have to convince the Chaplain and find the perfect venue for the reception. I have got some ideas for the theme and yesterday bought some shoes(!) by Rupert Sanderson. The ring has now been photographed so I might even post a photo when they are e-mailed to me.

Tonight is our informal engagement party and I am cleaning, tidying, ironing, washing and gardening in preparation not only for tonight but for also practising my wifely duties. All whilst watching the Wimbledon final, of course.

More details

2008-06-30T18:30:00.003+01:00

Rather annoyingly I forgot to charge my camera battery before we went. But I thought we were simply off for a weekends surfing so I was not unduly worried. How wrong I was.

I had finished surfing and after struggling out of my wet, sandy and now too small wetsuit I had simply pulled on a pair of shorts and a vest and a crew top. I was only going to be lying on the beach reading the paper, drying off in the sunshine, wasn't I? How wrong I was.

So there I was with wet-then-dried-in-plaits hair, no make-up, sandy clothes, no camera, mouth full of fish and chips, when M asked me to be his wife. And presented me with a gorgeous ring*; sea-coloured (aquamarine and diamond), ethical, the perfect size.

The camera battery lasted for three photos.

*In due course my ring will be photographed and added to the website, in the meantime you will have to imagine...

Surfing and other stories

2008-06-29T23:42:00.003+01:00

Back in London after the perfect weekend to finish off a busy two weeks. Looks like I might need to do a little re-branding here though, as Little Miss Rachel is no longer appropriate...

Sailing

2008-06-15T23:30:00.003+01:00

The Queen Mary 2 on the Solent this weekend. Whilst anchored off Osborne Bay we listened to the Isle of Wight festival drifting on the breeze and heard three separate 'pan pan' calls to Solent coastguard (on strike due to pay and conditions dispute), two of which were being relayed through a passing third party, all of which required the lifeboat being launched. Was almost as enthralling as a soap opera, channel 16 today.

Memories of Italy Part One

2008-06-12T08:30:00.000+01:00

The sight of the coast of England being left behind against the blue sea of the channel as we climbed upwards over France in the aeroplane

Leaving behind Milan, the motorway, smaller towns and then climbing higher and higher into the mountains before stopping. the engines cutting and the sound of grasshoppers, of wind in the grass, of dogs barking, of nothing.

The sound of the church bell across the valley striking the hour, a slightly higher pitched 'ting' denoting the half-hour, one church chiming the time about 4 minutes before the other.

On Sundays the haunting sound of choral music drifting across the valley in waves of sound, sometimes loud and clear before tailing off into a murmur on the wind, barely audible before rising again. It was a service, perhaps being broadcast to the workers in the fields.

Walking back from a beautiful meal in a restaurant with no menus and no prices, you ate what they offered you and drank their selection of wines. the road was so dark when a car came one of our party held up his lit blackberry so that we could be seen, even in white trousers on a still, cloudy moonless night we would have been no match for Italian drivers. feeling small in comparison to the blackness. seeing fire-flies darting around, dancing in the darkness to an unheard song, their tails like LEDs.

The low slung mist which wrapped the tops of the mountains as if in cotton wool and hung, ethereal, in the valleys, turning Italy into New Zealand or Japan, the dark greens of the mountains furring in focus as the lower clouds moved past

Truffles on pasta. local fizzy wine. espressos for one euro, glasses of wine for little more. cannelloni, meringue, home cooked beef, coq-au-vin, bread sticks,

Juliet's house in Verona being covered in graffiti with bunches of 'true-love' padlocks fasten to the gate like bunches of wine.

If not later, when?

2008-06-12T08:00:00.001+01:00

Exams, birthdays, work. It may be that I am absent for a while. But I shall leave you with this thought: I am currently reading Call me by your name by Andre Aciman. New York Magazine calls him the "most exciting new fiction writer of the 21st Century" and so far I have only stopped reading when forced to. It is a beautiful, haunting book about the impact of love and time and the exploration of etymology from the perspective of the hindsight of a once 17 year old. Once I have finished it I shall attempt to write a review, although reading this one in the New York Times I am not sure it will be easy.

Grandparents

2008-06-10T18:36:00.002+01:00

Catherine Bruton writes in today's Times about the importance of grandparents in a child's life, sharing two reader's experiences of their own relationship with their grandparents and that of their child to their own parents.

As the eldest of three daughters I remember, hazily, the day that my mother's father turned sixty. I would have been 3 or 4. M, the youngest son, watched his own father turn 60 last year; my father has the best part of a decade to go. I often wonder whether or not I will have a child to remember my father's 60th birthday. Yesterday, my mother's mother turned 80. M's only grandparent is 92. My grandparents have played a huge part in my life; I am lucky to have known all 4 as an adult. M in turn has only ever 'known' 1 yet her role has been large enough to more than make up for the absence of the other 3.

My maternal grandmother often refers to me as "her third daughter", when she isn't calling me the name of her son. Ironically, had I been a boy, she would have been correct. My maternal grandparents are more eccentric than my father's - Grannie still has waist long hair (pinned up into a bun for as long as I can remember, although photos suggest that this was not always the case), they are artists and their cottage is pretty much my favourite place on earth. From my maternal grandparents I have inherited a love of art, poetry, reading, the beauty of nature, appreciation of the very smallest things, of tea, of shadows and light. The importance of kindness, of love, of families, of displaying every day things as works of art, of Cornwall, Shropshire, stripy fabric bags, of Liberty fabrics, of making things rather than buying them, of card games. When I was small, Grannie wrote a book about the things we used to do together and Grandpa illustrated it. Every occasion is marked with a home-made card; every holiday encouraged to be sketched. I can tell my maternal grandparents things I cannot tell my parents - a tummy button piercing, leaving a long term partner, money worries. All have been discussed at length with Grannie & Grandpa over a telephone call well before the subject was broached with my parents. I can still remember the fury of my father when he received his quarterly BT statement to discover that I had chatted to them for over an hour at a ferry terminal on my way to a sailing trip, using his charge card (aged 16). To me it seemed the natural way to spend an hours wait - a cup of tea and a good discussion with Grannie & Grandpa. These days I tend to use my own mobile telephone though (with a contract with unlimited land line minutes, thankfully).

From my paternal grandparents I have inherited a love of Yorkshire, of sailing, the importance of good food, family support, sisterly bonds. Of gardening, reading, slushy films, of the closeness possible between parent & child even as adults. I think I learned more about family life from lying on the floor in the dark listening to Dad talk to his parents every few days than I ever did from discussions round the kitchen table. From Granny & Grandpa I learnt the importance of manners, and that vodka will give me lines. Every letter from Granny K ends "eat your greens" and once she even sent me a postcard with the amounts of fruit & veg illustrated courtesy of the NHS. It was stuck to the fridge in the kitchen throughout my time at university. Visits to Granny & Grandpa brought pocket money for sweets and once an illicit trip to McDonalds (if we promised not to tell Mummy)! Every month throughout university a cheque arrived, which I used to pay for broadband which would have been unaffordable otherwise, every week a notelet from Granny. Once, aged 6 or 7, during a particularly tasty bowl of ice-cream I was caught licking the remains. "That's ok in this house" warned Dad, "but not at Granny K's". Staying at their house last May bank holiday Granny repeated this behaviour, almost weeping with laughter when I told her what Dad used to say.

Mum's parents lived much nearer us when we were growing up - they used to come over once a week after school and collect us in their car (a VW camper van when I was tiny, replaced by a succession of Golfs) and take us back to our house for tea and, treat of treats, a packet of crisps. They would be waiting for us outside the school gates, with Snuff, their border terrier, sitting at their feet. We would play card games over a cup of tea. Later on, when Mum went back to work and we brought ourselves home from secondary school, Grannie and Grandpa would come over, still the same rituals. Now, aged 26, a trip home is not complete without a visit to or from Grannie & Grandpa. Dad's parents live in Yorkshire - a place synonymous for many years with Christmas and Easter. My first Easter not spent in Yorkshire came only after leaving university. Trips to Granny & Grandpa in Yorkshire were exciting - best dresses could be worn, Granny always cooked beautiful food, and still does. There was 'Grandpa Bread' to be eaten, which last visit he taught M how to make. There were mountains to be climbed and cattle auctions to be visited. Staying with Granny & Grandpa in Yorkshire is always a 'proper' holiday.

Writing this now, I feel so lucky to have had such an experience of 4 wonderful grandparents who have contributed so much to my life, and hopefully in return, I to them. I see so many similarities between the two sets of grandparents it can be no wonder that my parents fell in love. I have heard the stories of each set of parents meeting the new boyfriend/girlfriend - Dad turned up late at night on the back of a friend's motorbike, dressed head to toe in orange waterproofs and after introductions had been made was asked if he would like any food. His response - "a bowl of cereal", was so Dad, and at once he was part of the family. Mum, meeting Granny & Grandpa for the first time, had been invited up from Surrey during the holidays of their first term together at Oxford, only Dad had gone off caving and so Mum had to telephone and check she was still expected. Whatever Grandpa said to her reassured her and she too has felt part of their family from that moment on.

One day, I hope I will have children who will feel the same thing for my parents. To those who are fortunate to have grandparents, I think it is an incredibly important and special relationship.

You're Not The Only One - Buy It Now

2008-06-10T08:00:00.004+01:00

Back in February I wrote about a book that a team of bloggers were putting together in aid of the charity Warchild (an international charity that "works with children affected by war in Afghanistan, Iraq, Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda. Our work with former child soldiers, children in prison and children living and working on the streets gives them support, protection and opportunities. To make sure we provide them with what they need we involve them directly in all our decision making.")

Well, after many months of submissions and editing by Peach the book is finally ready for you to buy.

And guess what? I'm in it. Story number 21. Something previously unpublished on this blog - an account of an experience which happened almost 19 years ago, the day the earth moved for me.

The book costs £12.50 and is available here from Lulu.com. Please consider buying it and reading the experiences that other bloggers (some of them published in their own right) have shared whilst raising money for a great cause.

Full list of contributors: 1. DBA Lehane2. Corinne Furness3. Village Idiot aka VI 4. Fringes5. LilliPilli6. Naomi Dunford7. Leigh Forbes8. Heather Hunter9. Fweng Ebola10. Sue11. Ani12. Anna Pickard13. Ree14. Desperate Sarah15. M.McEwen-Asker16. Paige Jennifer17. Cat18. Sarah J Peach19. Mike Atkinson20. Diane Mandy21. Rachel Goldsack22. Deborah Carr23. Jenny Maltby24. Helen Redfern25. Miss Smack26. The H Factor 27. Fat Controller 28. L.M.Noonan29. Kal30. Ronjazz31. Nicholas Grundy32. Rob Ryan33. Casdok34. DJ Kirkby35. Bone36. Kathryn Harriss37. Helen Dalby 38. Alex McGlin39. Kate Kingsley40. Miss Tickle41. Just A Girl42. Catherine Sanderson43. Enigma44. Tim Warren45. Kat Campbell 46. Daren Callow 47. Alan White 48. Zinnia Cyclamen 49. Tired Dad50. The Boy51. Swiss Toni52. Cliff Jones53. Fiona Williams54. Kate55. Isabelle56. An Unreliable Witness57. Dave Lozo58. Anne Byrne59. Micky McGuinness60. Phillip Copland61. Larry Teabag62. enidd63. Sugar00764. Ariel Langham65. Mr Angry66. The Overnight Editor67. Kristin68. Léonie Kate69. Barb McMahon70. Misssy M71. Meaghan Kearney72. Pat Mackay73. Swearing Mother74. Emma Kaufmann75. Angela La La76. Boy Does Life77. Guy Herbert78. Blue Soup79. Junior80. Curvy Girl81. Prada Pixie82. JH83. Ms Robinson84. Distracted Spunk85. Jane86. Jen87. The Boy Who Could But Didn’t88. Solarisgirl89. Beth Smith90. Wendy Christie91. Miss Diarist92. Colin93. Hope94. Enny95. Joanna96. Reluctant Memsahib97. Karen98. Stephanie Shaw99. Clarissa100. Susan P101. Debbie102. Crystal103. Scorpy104. Megan105. Uncle Norman106. Johnny B

Italy

2008-06-09T08:00:00.001+01:00

Memories of Italy Part One:

The sight of the coast of England being left behind against the blue sea of the channel as we climbed upwards over France in the aeroplane

Leaving behind Milan, the motorway, smaller towns and then climbing higher and higher into the mountains before stopping. the engines cutting and the sound of grasshoppers, of wind in the grass, of dogs barking, of nothing.

The sound of the church bell across the valley striking the hour, a slightly higher pitched 'ting' denoting the half-hour, one church chiming the time about 4 minutes before the other.

On Sundays the haunting sound of choral music drifting across the valley in waves of sound, sometimes loud and clear before tailing off into a murmur on the wind, barely audible before rising again. It was a service, perhaps being broadcast to the workers in the fields.

Walking back from a beautiful meal in a restaurant with no menus and no prices, you ate what they offered you and drank their selection of wines. the road was so dark when a car came one of our party held up his lit blackberry so that we could be seen, even in white trousers on a still, cloudy moonless night we would have been no match for Italian drivers. feeling small in comparison to the blackness. seeing fire-flies darting around, dancing in the darkness to an unheard song, their tails like LEDs.

The low slung mist which wrapped the tops of the mountains as if in cotton wool and hung, ethereal, in the valleys, turning Italy into New Zealand or Japan, the dark greens of the mountains furring in focus as the lower clouds moved past

Truffles on pasta. local fizzy wine. espressos for one euro, glasses of wine for little more. cannelloni, meringue, home cooked beef, coq-au-vin, bread sticks,

Juliet's house in Verona being covered in graffiti with bunches of 'true-love' padlocks fasten to the gate like bunches of wine.

Film Review: Sex and The City

2008-05-29T08:00:00.003+01:00

Warning: Although I will try not to reveal any spoilers that are not indicated in the trailer, if you wish to see the film without knowing anything about the plot, I suggest that you stop reading now and come back once you have watched the film.

I will start this review by stating that I am a Sex and the City fan; I own all the series which I watch and re-watch, for the clothes as much as the girls. I embrace the shoe-loving cliches which emanated from SATC and my favourite comment on this blog was the lovely person who compared me to Carrie Bradshaw. That's not to say I would actually like to be her (I'm quite happy with my own life) but I wouldn't mind her job, her flat or her wardrobe. I was therefore extremely excited to see the film, which I waited many years to see after the series ended. So, with baited breath BestFriend, Faux Sister-In-Law and I dragged our respective partners to the preview screening last night.

Many professional reviewers have commented that the film, a romantic comedy, was too long at 2 and half hours. I barely noticed the time passing, such was my enjoyment in watching the film. I thoroughly enjoyed watching it, thought it was fab. A great nights entertainment. I laughed, cried, cooed over the fashion and marvelled at how good the actresses looked despite their advancing years. Thinking about it in more depth though, I realised that a great piece of entertainment and it being a successful film do not necessarily mean the same thing.

Carrie says at the beginning of the film that people come to New York for the two 'L's - labels and love. The film certainly addressed these two issues in some detail - the whole film was glorious in it's technicolour-ed fashion and I cannot have been the only girl who wished for the Yves Klein blue Manolos with diamond detailing. As far as love went, SATC seemed caught between two posts - portray love as a happy ending or love as it honestly is? Forgiveness, selfishness, idolatry, happiness; these were all ideas which worked around the central theme which ran through the series and into the film - single girls looking for love which met their all consuming expectations. The most serious problem that the film encountered was that SATC seemed to have lost it's identity somewhere - it wanted to be bigger than a TV series yet it relied completely on the TV series for the story lines. Fast paced editing at the beginning gave way to elongated episodes which could have been cut in favour of more detail - time passed alternately very quickly and slowly, without any of the soul-searching of Ms Bradshaw that was the back-bone of the TV series. Each character needed to have their stories told yet somehow it seemed that there was too much attempted but not enough realised.

The plot was fairly predictable - Carrie is still a writer, although of books not newspaper columns, Charlotte and Miranda both married with a child, Samantha still in PR, there was a wedding, some minor twists, some loss, some forgiveness, some comical moments, some sad ones - but in trying t0 pack in so much action so much essential detail was lost. There were no girly discussions and dissections only a few cocktails, there was no love for New York or of culture or of the small things in life. Small details which looked like they might lead somewhere or mean something were glossed over. There were elements of the old SATC still visible occasionally though - the irony of Carrie agreeing to be photographed for Vogue was reminiscent of the use of the question mark on the last magazine shoot she did for example (and is it co-incidence that there is an age feature in this month's British Vogue?) - but it seemed that there was something missing. It was, as Wendy Ide in the Times Review put it, "like being reunited with old friends only to realise that you’ve grown irreparably apart". Still, I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it and I cannot wait to see it again on DVD.

Cornwall

2008-05-27T13:21:00.002+01:00

Returned to London after a weekend in Cornwall with friends. Despite the weather forecast predicting chilly winds and pouring rain, it really only rained when we were not wanting to be outside anyway. I went for a long solitary walk along the edge of the Camel estuary, following the exposed sand bank round at the lowest of low spring tides, the tide so far out that the water had receded to the teeniest channel allowing slow headway up towards Rock and Padstow, the gap so narrow it seemed as if a running leap would take you safely over the water. The boys played golf, I read, we had drinks in the sailing club and a huge comforting chili in the evening whilst the sun set over the cliffs. On the Sunday we meandered around the clothes shops before the most delicious roast lunch at the sailing club and a rather damp ferry crossing to Padstow. Once in Padstow the sun came out and we pottered around the harbour and the winding streets, in and out of shops and galleries and pausing for a cup of tea before catching the ferry back across the estuary, this time in hot sunshine, and a walk along the beach to the church for evensong. It was very peaceful sitting there in the quiet cold church listening to the singing, the sound of birdsong filling the pauses, the sun streaming through the windows and brightening the white washed walls. And then back out, blinking in the still bright sunshine rather like moles emerging from their hills, walking back across the beach, home for supper, for a film, sleeping solidly for 9 hours and waking to the sound of rain lashing against the window, the view of the sea blocked by low lying sea mist hanging over the hills and golf course. Lying in bed in the warmth, watching the rain against the sky light. And then the long drive back to London. A wonderful weekend.

This & That

2008-05-21T08:00:00.000+01:00

Our house guests might have departed but reminders of them remain; I used my clothes brush to remove an entire fistful of fur from the arm chair in the sitting room and every time I sneeze at night previously invisible hairs rise off the bedspread in a cloud. A freshly washed, ironed and clothes brushed pair of navy suit trousers still covered in white hairs. Stray pieces of litter behind the wine boxes in the hallway, a remnant of Louis' over excited digging; a discarded biscuit behind the bin in the kitchen.

Our feline house guests may have departed but it was a busy weekend for human ones. A quiet roast dinner on Friday evening with BestFriend turned into her sleeping over on the sofa. We spent a companionable Saturday morning cleaning and turning chicken bones into stock before she departed for some flat hunting mid afternoon. As one guest left another arrived, this time for a dinner party we hosted in honour of a university friend leaving to join his girlfriend in Stockholm at the end of the month. M cooked a beautiful if time consuming beef in borollo dish. Sunday saw him turn the stock from Saturday into demi-glas which has now been frozen in an ice cube tray - the basis for many more lovely meals in the future. Another dinner on Sunday, this time at someone else's house and an opportunity for M to finish watching The Wire in preparation for the delivery of the OC (series 4) this week. Tonight M is watching football and I shall be hiding in the bedroom for The Apprentice followed by as much OC as I can fit in before bed.

House Guests

2008-05-14T08:00:00.003+01:00

They departed last night, our guests Louis and David. They came for the weekend whilst their parents were abroad and spent the weekend playing games, causing trouble, sleeping and eating. Like 'proud parents' ('PP') M and I spent evenings entertaining them and taking photographs of them snuggled up together angelically or fighting in the middle of the floor. Even at such a young age both had distinct personalities: Louis settled down very quickly and thought most activities to be a great game whereas David remained resolutely grumpy and stand-offish. Make the most of a weekend away, not him.

Much as I enjoyed being a PP, I was rather pleased to have an unbroken nights sleep last night. No more drifting off to sleep hoping that they were still alive, no more awakening suddenly as one of them climbed onto the bed, no more lying there in the dark as they chased each other up and down the sitting room engaged in some form of horseplay which invariably ended up with them fighting each other. No more crying outside the bathroom door as I got ready for work, not allowing them inside as they jumped straight into the shower and started trying to lick all the bottles before padding wet paw prints up and down the hall.

There were many touching moments in the weekend as well as the outright comical, like finding Louis down the back of the bedside table snuggled into a ball in a space which looked far too small for him and having to get him out again somehow. Or both of them standing on their back paws trying to reach up to the glasses of water on a table. Or finding them both curled up on a pile of shoes on the floor underneath our clothes rail. They also both had a habit of sneaking under the duvet during the early morning hours, so I often awakened to find one of them curled up sleeping in the crook of my knees. So it was with mixed emotions that I packed up their food and bowls, emptied their tray one last time and watched with horror as just before their parents came to collect them Louis coughed up a fur ball and was sick on the floor.

Overheard at lunchtime...

2008-05-09T21:30:00.000+01:00

On trying to ingratiate oneself with the partners of a law firm: "I attended University of Columbia, before that the Spence School. Of course, I was at school with Gwyneth Paltrow. I'm a year older than her." "Are you friends with her then?" "We see each other at Spence School functions...could get her as a client. Their marriage is good though. He, Chris Martin, is really down to earth...cares for the kids". "Well, I'll certainly bring it up at the next partners meeting."

On finding adult children too needy: "He rang me when we were on holiday to say that he'd punctured the fridge with a knife whilst he was defrosting it, and what should he do? We can't even go away by ourselves without them ringing up. The other one rang from her honeymoon in the Maldives to say that she was worried she was depressed. She doesn't know the meaning of depressed..."

Say hello to your neighbours

2008-05-07T08:00:00.001+01:00

The BBC reports today that 1 in 10 people questioned for a survey do not speak to their neighbours. It goes onto suggest that the streets are empty and that there is a serious decline in everyday interaction.

We live in a typical somewhat suburban inner London street; a mixture of Victorian and modern houses, some converted into a number of flats, some are family houses. We are not on a main bus route but there is a tube station fairly nearby so there is pretty much a constant trickle of pedestrians up and down the road for most of the day. Every match day this number is multiplied many fold. There are also various workmen about completing one project or another.

One of the nicest things about living where we do is that we have friendly neighbours. We are friends with the people who live upstairs from us and frequently pop round to each other's flats for drinks. We are also able to just text each other if the music is too loud, or whatever, rather than letting it annoy each other and cause resentment. It is surprising how low our music can be and still be heard 2 flights up.

We are also on good terms with the neighbours to the side - greeting each other rather than drinking together - and they came round last night with a bottle of champagne to apologise for some rather prolonged building work which had taken up many weekends before they moved in. Last week we popped home to vote at lunchtime and returned quickly to the house. The dog started barking and Mrs Neighbour came to check that there were no burglars. Whilst some people may deem that nosy, I was very appreciative that someone noticed that there was unusual activity in our garden and came to investigate.

Our property is unusual in terms of access to other properties so we do see our neighbours at the back more than perhaps others do as we share an access way and also the gardens are connected. We are on very good terms with the parents of the family and do our best to use our shared parts of land to minimise disturbance to each other. The BBC article indicates that many neighbourhood disputes arise over a lack of communication - something which we have certainly noticed first-hand. Sharing communal parts inevitably leads to differing ideas over how things should be done and whose priorities are more important; an issue exacerbated when one party owns and the other party rents. Communicating with each other regularly seems to have smoothed the issues of contention and both parties have learnt to compromise.

As to other people on the street, well that is harder. People do tend to keep themselves to themselves in London and apart from our immediate neighbours I would not recognise people who live near-by. Free-cycle has introduced me to a few very friendly people in the area but they are not people I see on a regular basis. I know our normal postman to say hello to and he knows which address is mine but it is not always the same postman (or at least I presume it isn't since sometimes the postman hands me the post yet on other occasions our neighbours bring it round as it has been posted through the wrong door).

Whilst I agree that everyday interaction is important there is also a need, especially in a city like London, to be able to switch off at home and not feel that people are constantly haranguing you or being nosy. Personally I am appreciative of friendly neighbours and go out of my way to cultivate this relationship but I also understand that some people do not want to be under an obligation to say 'hello' or even idly chit-chat for a couple of moments if you both happen to be in your garden at the same time or step outside the front door simultaneously. However, I do think that a happy medium is preferable, not least because it encourages a safer neighbourhood and, I hope, lowers crime rates.

Gardening Lessons

2008-05-04T18:09:00.005+01:00

The gardening plea has gone down well. We are in Yorkshire as part of a trip seeing family and I spent yesterday afternoon learning some gardening techniques in Granny's greenhouse. 42 plugs of yellow geraniums had arrived from an offer in a newspaper and Dad showed me how to gently poke them out of the plugs using a handy pointed device (this happened to be the part of a bird feeder which a bird would stand on, was it in use) and tease them apart, re-planting them safely in individual pots and then watering them. He showed me the way to handle plants, how to feed them, different types of compost. We identified plants in the garden and I was shown how to feed things and how to plant up my hanging baskets. I then looked through the weekend papers and am writing this after going on-line to place my order for 24 free sweet-peas.

Granny has had a look through her bookcases and has found an encyclopedia of container gardening which I have been reading this afternoon and deciding on potential combinations of plants for different kinds of containers. Sadly it has been raining or no doubt we would have been in the garden as we were yesterday afternoon, sitting on the freshly mown lawn drinking cups of tea and enjoying the sunshine after all our earlier efforts.

Dad produced a box from his car which contained some old tools, some pots, some seeding trays and two containers of food. Granny has found some spare hanging basket compost with water granules already mixed in. Tomorrow we return to M's parents en-route to London where there is some other compost and some small plants which M's mother has grown from seed for us. I look forward to having a bash myself next weekend at planting up some of the baskets and tubs.

Image from New Zealand Garden Stuff