There are certain dangers associated with being left in one’s house on ones own. This includes (although please note this list is not exhaustive) :
1) The potential for severe dehydration due to absence of resident tea maker
2) Chronic delay in the removal of nightwear
3) The potential for an extended period in the bathroom during which time an experiment to seek alternative uses for shaving foam presents itself as a worthy and compelling challenge
4) Vertigo from an expedition to the loft in which to locate a reversible jumper
5) An addiction to programming whereby someone is either building a house, buying a house, selling a house, decorating a house, auctioning a house, buying something to go in a house, auctioning or selling something from within their house, or is called ‘House’ (I do like Hugh Laurie).
6) Causing oneself an allergic reaction from trying to de-limescale and sanitise the porcelain simultaneously
7) Temporary blindness due to misdirection of squirter button on iron
8 ) Relapsing into to single behaviours including the preparation of alternative foodstuffs
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Wishing you a pleasant bank holiday, and if you happen to be spending it alone, stay safe.
There is very little point in denying that my vision of heaven is one of twee – cream teas on the lawn, bunting billowing in amongst some apple trees, (ideally mute) children fishing for minnows in the stream, and cow parsley growing in between the mechanics of an artistically placed item of agricultural equipment.
Unfortunately I think I am a little way off from achieving my ‘celestial vision’ at the moment, but I do have very serious plans for creating a twee corner in my garden. Indeed the hunt has already begun for suitable artefacts on which to place potted white Diascia, native Bluebells, Lavendula, Hydrangea, and perhaps a G&T thrown in for good measure. Heaven wouldn’t be heaven without a spirit mixer. I’d probably consider hell if I knew they served Gordon’s.
Today’s featured Twee Corner is in Beacon Hill in Boston, MA which itself is the epitome of what I live for. It took everything I had to get on that plane. Immigration has a lot to thank ‘Duty Free’ for.
Despite trying, my middle aged gene seems beyond repression and so this week I shall be glued to Alan at Chelsea. The previews on the BBC so far have been very intriguing, and although perhaps a bit too early in the day to pass judgement, and I understand that the man has a reputation to uphold, I already feel Diarmuid’s pink pod is a little unnecessary.
This weekend was a rather jolly one spent with friends enjoying sunshine and beer in the garden. The Toy Boy and I even found a property that caught our eye and we spent a good half an hour or so inspecting it’s fine appointments. Unfortunately we felt we had to leave after our host was asked “Who are your grown up friends playing in Jodie’s Wendy House”? I shall be nipping back for the gingham drapes.
On Sunday we decided to extend our culinary repertoire to include roasted rabbit, which was a bit more expensive than our normal choice of classic poultry but we thought worth a try. Cooked to perfection, browned and seasoned beautifully it was served with Moroccan style couscous, roasted vegetables and a hunk of wholegrain loaf, and (as pictured) looked thoroughly delightful…
but tasted like chicken.
I do Social Media now.
The business consultancy side though, not the agency stuff. You have to wear cooler trainers, and still I haven’t graduated from Converse.
A brief pictorial ‘day in the life’:
One only finds well articulated public notices in Kew, surrounded by a sea of twee.
I have no idea where the art came from.
Quite often you will find people getting very excited at the prospect of eating an M&S salad on the stairwell. Mind you they are very good.
The Boss has been experimenting with pastels lately.
Sales are still managing hot desking.
I remain the only female in this outfit.
Currently on the list:
- News of visas
- Destination of potential far flung adventure
- Purchase of the ‘New Palace’
- Start dates for the money making work
- For reversible jumpers to make a come back
- Invitation to Royal Wedding
I can only assume it was lost in the post.
My patience is severely being tested. All things to get excited about are dragging their heels in the most excruciating of ways.
Still, I can at least make a personal effort on the reversable jumpers front. I’m sure I still have one lingering in the loft somewhere sporting the Eurotunnel bunny. I have decided this is the only answer to my unerring propensity for wearing food without having to do the washing so often.
I’m all about the eco.
That be it then – ‘The Palace’ (as featured) has been sold. Twice in fact, although we are very happy that it has gone to the lovely young couple (both work for the NHS, he – VERY shiny shoes, she – mixes high street with vintage very well) rather than the grouchy lady who’s brother-in-law interrogated us as to the fixings of our loft ladder. It’s funny what people ask on viewings, we’ve had all sorts from the traditional ‘how are the neighbours?’ to ‘will you be leaving the lightbulbs in the extractor hood’?
Yes, but we’ll be taking the coving with us.
Anyway that’s the good news. The bad news is that the person currently residing in the house of our dreams has not yet decided to put it on the market. Which house and where that may be has yet to be ascertained, but we’re trying to remain very philosophical and Kirstie Allsopp about it.
We did actually see a lovely little pile just a stone’s throw from the Middleton’s who we most certainly would be inviting round for tea (I hear they put on a lovely do). However on closer inspection it did need a lot of work and money throwing at it, and that is even before we come to the acro prop holding up the roof. It breaks my heart though to think what could have become of the alfresco bread oven….
So for now we are sitting tight, grateful to our buyers that they will hang on until January, and continue to build a photographic memory of the offerings on RightMove. In the meantime if you hear of anywhere celubrious in West Berkshire with a kitchen-diner, grazing for a modest alpacca herd and the potential for fibre to the cabinet (you have to throw them the odd bone every now and then) please do get in touch! We’d be most grateful.