Crunchy *Country* Autumn in the Cities

Verulamium Park and St Albans Abbey, returning for the first time since the evening of the engagement. It was a glorious sunshine autumn and we sat on the grass eating takeaway pizza with scarves and sticky fingers.

 

Then on the Sunday to Hackney City Farm to sample the delights of the chickens, the largest pig in Europe (surprisingly underwhelming for such an accolade, or maybe I'm just used to American proportions of all things, including livestock) and delicious off-menu salad from the very child-friendly cafe.

Blissful heaven of a weekend.

Jack of All Trades...

Master of One...

It seems that I have now graduated from my eternal studentdom with a Masters in Arts Administration and Cultural Policy.

With Distinction.

Hand on heart...

This (left) wasn't quite my reaction, but it was close. Relief, a very much lower bank balance, and a masters.

Not bad for one years' work.

Image taken from my impromptu sesh with the wonderful Seamus at Sunday Shoots on Columbia Road, now forming the basis of the Boy's birthday present. Now aren't I generous?!

My glamorous glamorous life...

Matthew Williamson: Ten Years in Fashion opened yesterday at my place of work.

A BBC interview (imagine me, just left to camera) is viewable here and we hosted many a celeb and soapstar at the opening last night. Pictures to follow when the paparazzi get theirs online...*

*Needless to say, I spent the evening stood with a clip board at the door and failed to recognise anyone beyond Thandie Newton. I did, however, have very good hair.

Talent in Bowl-fulls

A busy weekend of Barbican-ing on Saturday and on Sunday attending the glorious birthday celebrations of the Boy's friend's mum.

The Boy's Friend is currently training in Utrecht to be a baritone opera singer and stunned his family with a series of pieces, accompanied by the Boy on keyboard.

The Boy's mother, Dutch by birth, is an incredibly talented potter with her own studio and various galleries that display her simple and elegant creations.

I helped with washing up, and for my troubles, was awarded two salad bowls and 6 tumblers full of leftovers to take home with me. Oh, what a bit of Persil achieves!


I am planning my next mulled wine party. These are the perfect receptacle.

Thanks, Charlotte, your talents make me very very happy indeed.

Carbooting and Souking

Semi-related experiences, except in England, the buyer meets the seller's suggested price about halfway. In Marrakech, you say your price and stick to it until the seller comes down from his stratospheric suggestions! Unless you are the Boy, in which case you accept the first offer immediately to escape the terror as quickly as possible.

Carbooting:

 

 

Chair, no doubt salvaged from a garage, here seen after several hours of scrubbing and several buckets of water... Still in need of beeswax, but for £1 will do just fine as a sewing chair.

 

 

 

L to R:

Bargain coffeepot with cracked lid for 50p

(Birthday present from scrumptious mummy)

(Christmas present from mirrormirror)

Hand stencilled jug from Irish potter

Bargain transfer printed jug for £1.20

Cath Kidston Milk Jug

My windowsill can take no more. This does not mean that I shall buy no more.

Souking:

 Mint tea produced for many a bartering session

Handblown tea glasses made from recycled bottles: The Boy bought the green set for £5. I bought the blue set a day later for 70p. We are equally pleased with our haggling.

Leather satchel to replace handbag combustion while away. The Boy also got a large-briefcase sized satchel for work.

One of four pairs of sandals purchased in the souk. Blingtastic!

Marrakech en Collage

Riad W

Around the city and the souks

The food in its many and varied forms

The haul...

Words (such as they are) will follow... For now, it's good to be home.

Hair Flare

A warning to all those poor yet hair-coloured-inclined blog readers out there.

Don't use Boots Colour. Don't use it for 10 minutes longer than the recommended time. Don't think that 'Rich Mahogany' will leave you looking anything like Catherine Zeta Jones. Don't think that Clare Danes circa 1994 is a look worth aspiring to. Don't use washing up liquid in a vain attempt to return to your suddenly-attractive-mousey pre-existence.

 

Don't find all this out two days before embarking on your first hot holiday in four years.

Anyone in the market for a bandana?

Or three?