Pleased to Remember the 5th November...

One of only a few to celebrate Bonfire Night on the actual day this year (falling on a Sunday does rather *pee on your bonfire* as the saying goes)... However, as the many journalists ranted, Hackney's celebrations rather lacked a bonfire this year, and instead revolved around a Bengali folk tale involving a tiger and a mean emperor...

Nonetheless, there was a funfair...



Sparklers...



And spectacular fireworks...



The pictures of the tiger in question didn't come out very well (you try snapping above 20,000 bescarfed individuals and see how well it comes out!) so here's one I stole earlier....


Hope you're appreciating my 'slow exposure night vision' pics... Not a wild success, but an attempt at bloggy artiness?!

Cake slice...

For the princely sum of three whole English pounds

It makes me happy!!

The sea, the sea...

What a spontaneously lovely weekend! It started out rather gruesomely with the Boy developing a tummy bug for 8 hours of dehydration. Not fun. But the upshot of it was that his horrid week of nights was brought to an abrupt halt and so he had two days recovering from the nights and the bug which meant that he was bored of loafing around the house by the time Saturday came...

I decided that stretching his birthday over ten days wasn't quite good enough, being as he had lost all sense of time and place in the six dark days of on calls. So, breakfast in bed and hideously indulgent lying in triumphantly achieved, we decided on a drive into the country and out of the city. Hoorah!

Kent always seems to be our destination of choice. Adjacent to the Blackwall tunnel as we are, it's just the quickest way out of London and therefore on into the land of oast houses and no hills.

Whitstable. Oh lovely whitstable. If only the Boy ate fish. The sheer number of delectable looking oyster bars.... Ho hum. We made do with cream tea at the Tudor Cafe complete with beams and gingham tablecloths...

And watched the ships come in at the harbour...



Ambling around the shops and found myself a rather splendid cake knife at one of the many charity shops there... Fab little nooks and crannies to be found right down Harbour Street...



Can't recommend it enough!

Columbia Road Goodies...

Unimpressed by predictable roses, sunflowers and gerberas, I meandered to the rather more expensive flower stall that usually makes me drool then run.

This week, however, The Boy had furnished me with a ten pound note that was burning in my little hand. I treated myself to a small but perfectly formed jugful of non-peony roses with the most entrancing variegated petals.

They make me happy...

Ripping Yarns (Part Two)

For some reason, blogger wasn't happy with the number of pictures I attached to Ripping Yarns (Part One) so here is the conclusion of scarves so far and also the beginning of the pinning...

Something tells me I may have to improve my styling and photographing techniques... In the meantime, just trust me when I say that I can sew better than I click!

Ripping Yarns (Part One)

As you may know, I'm trekking the Inca Trail next year and you can give me money at this site!

I have offered generous benefactors a scarf or a crocheted brooch for pledges over certain values, and people want to know what they're getting!

I'm afraid, like many cottage (or is that ex-council block flat) industries, I'm crocheting any and all yarns I can get my hands on and the variety is divine. That means, though, that these are the scarves I'm making, no two are alike, and if you are desperate for a particular colour (or not a particular colour) you're going to have to let me know and I'll do my darndest to please you!

Retro flashbacks and birthdays...

You may recall my birthday present to the Boy. That was in fact given very prematurely on account of the good weather and a free weekend, but it's his actual birthday this monday. As the poor doc is launching into a week of nights today, his celebrations took the rather childlike form of a night's bowling at the hilarious Rowan's in Finsbury Park...

The food was divine...



The dress code exceedingly strict...



And as the drink flowed, my score went from a respectable 97 in game one to a completely abysmal 35 in game two...

I can't deny that tantrums ensued...

Bobbing for Cake

Another BBC Food recipe, another scrummy evening with my best friend in all the land (and her boy).
I give you... Bath Bramley Apple Cake (cooked in a ring tin which makes me disproportionately happy)...

Run Fatboy Run (I kid you not...)

A pleasant surprise this morning to find a fully fledged film set at the end of my road. A derelict, or at least empty, shopfront on the corner of Columbia Road and Ravenscroft Street has been transformed into Libby's Fine Buns for the upcoming Run Fat Boy Run to be released next summer, starring Simon Pegg and Thandie Newton and directed by none other than David Schwimmer!!

To be honest, the star spotting was completely uneventful (unless you count the back of a baseball capped head, which I was informed belonged to Mr Ross Geller). I just thought the set was exquisite... The cakes were piled up inside too, and the hanging items in the windows are individually decorated 'cookies'. Beautiful...

Do you agree?

Lotus style

I met up with my old friends from University last night. These are the lovely ladies who, when I attended my very first seminar in Literature, History and Difference and couldn't bear the silences and staring at shoes that everyone else was demonstrating, didn't judge me for blurting out nonsense (including expressing surprise and slight unrest on discovering that one of my favourite female poets is gay-just puts a slant I wasn't expecting at the time on them-I'm over it now!!) and filling the void of shoe shuffling with what claimed to be intelligent comments on the literature of the English speaking world.

Thank goodness we went for multiple coffees after most of our lectures (hey, what else is being a student for?) and formed a firm group. One of them is now my best friend in all the land, and the rest are just wonderful for the occassional dinner and tale of attempting to control, nevermind teach, a room of adolescent boys.

We dined at Ping Pong in St Christopher's place. This was the lotus flower tea which arrived looking like a dung beetle's offering and over the course of about 8 minutes in hot water expanded to form the most beautiful floating temple...

Sliding around London OR I can't believe I forgot my camera...

Had a fabulous London day yesterday...




Failed to bring my camera...


Thank god the internet has searchable images...


Sorry guys, will do better next time...

Baking with aplomb

If you are in a quandry, with ingredients in your cupboard that you are sure would make a meal or a course but not quite sure the combination or quantity, there is no better resource than the BBC Food website...

They feature seasonal specialities, new menus and related goodies (lunch box ideas in September) as well as an enormous searchable database of recipes from all BBC programmes, including anything from Blue Peter to Ready Steady Cook to The Kitchen Diaries, and also some featured chefs such as Anthony Carluccio or Elizbeth David.

This little number was in the menu highlighted the bottom of the BBC Food homepage last week (it has now been updated but still accessible through the search tool) and lives up to the delightful name supplied: Wonderfully Moist Fresh Plum Cake



Battle has officially commenced with MirrorMirror...

Why I *HEART* A Dress A Day

Pretty is pleasant, and fun, and satisfying, and makes people smile, often even at you. But in the hierarchy of importance, pretty stands several rungs down from happy, is way below healthy, and if done as a penance, or an obligation, can be so far away from independent that you may have to squint really hard to see it in the haze.

Erin McKean deserves a knighthood, a ladyship, a palace and a boat with champagne whacked on the front in her honour.

The image is irrelevant to the post, except as an homage to Dress A Day and because it's my favourite and most successful vintage pattern... Will perhaps post the creations it has spawned another time...

Marches aux Puces, Brussels

The Boy took me to Brussels for a week's break after my birthday to celebrate the end of my year in the city and to anticipate my return to studentdom. This was to be the last holiday abroad until at least next September... Bring on the tightening of the belts...

Anyway, back to the issue at hand. I can't say enough lovely things about Brussels. The seafood is delicious (and cheap), the architecture is occassionally stunning and often incongruously striking, if not down right bizarre. I will post under separate cover about the rest of the city, but the highlight for me was without doubt the fleamarket and its surrounding area that happened every day of the week from 8am until noon near the Gare du Midi.

The photos surely speak for themselves...





The trick is to ask the price, halve it, offer that back, and then walk away. The stallholders will call you back if they need the sale enough, and you can offer as much as you think it is worth. Absolutely nothing is worth the price that is offered to you! I got six silver plated larger-than-tea-but-smaller-than-dessert-spoons, three vintage stamps for cardmaking, four china teacups for candleholders and six cards of 8 vintage buttons and all that totalled no more than about 10 euros.

J'adore les marches aux puces... More of the tour another day...

Painted Lacey...

Does that title make sense?! I was going for the 'Painted Lady' idea and not sure it worked!

The Boy's work ball beckoned and I had exhausted the (let's be honest here) plentiful ballgowns in my wardrobe... I scoured online Vogue catwalk shows and came across this little gem by Badgeley Mischka...

Gorgeous, non?

My attempt at the same came out like this. I really enjoyed working out how to mimic the shoulder straps, which ended up being a combination of those little lace pieces in ivory and gold stitched together onto grosgrain ribbon, embroidered and painted with my childhood watercolour set! Perhaps not washable, but then the velvet's vintage from a neighbour's mum's attic so I wouldn't trust it in my Whirlpool quite yet!

Will find a full length pic soon, but in the meantime, here's one of the straps themselves - I'm pretty pleased with them!

Will anyone buy my lovely flowers?

Despite the fact that I whinge and moan my lack of period features (oh for a dado rail... or a fireplace... is that so much to ask?!) the one benefit of my ex-council concrete square flat is its location. It is within spitting distance of the delectable Columbia Road flower market which blooms into life every Sunday morning.

It is fabulous, for its number of stalls, variety, enthusiasm of stallholder, bargainous prices and the great variety of handicraft/vintage fashion/gardening/interiors/brickabrack/any number of others shops that line the road tempting me with their wares. One of the best things about the market, though, is its timing. Sunday from 8-3pm. It does not take over the area. It is there just when you need it, providing diversion, great attraction and variety for visitors to the pad but not so frequent that it takes up all the parking spaces or bores you with its regularity.

I love tripping down to the market at about 2 o'clock to get the bargains. Last weekend I got this incredible bunch on a stall that starts the day at 2 bunches a fiver, then at noon goes to three bunches a fiver and by 2pm, this bouquet of four bunches cost me the princely sum of... you guessed it... a fiver!!



There's no excuse for my lack of pictures of the actual market. I will do my darnedest to get some this weekend. If nothing else, the contrast to the market at Christmas (all wreaths and trees - fabulous!) will be better demonstrated visually in December... Oooh I can't wait!!

**Newsflash**

Well this is very exciting! The news that I hinted at a couple of days ago has been confirmed! I am now the officially titled 'Customer Experience Manager' of the lovely (and exceedingly indulgent) Mirror Mirror on the Web!! God bless blogland...

Having read on Paola's blog (the owner of MMotW) that she was in a pickle and needed assistance during her emmigration to the US for two years, I offered my services.

She and hubbie came around today to see my flat and make sure I didn't have rising damp that may damage the stock and I plied her with tea and cake. And now...as of Sunday, I will be holding the beautiful stock of MMotW in my sewing room! How very trusting Paola is!!

I think the cupcakes cinched it...!

Zoom Zoom Zoom

Birthday present to the boy yesterday. I'd never been on the Thames before and a sedate showboat didn't really do it for me. How about going from Waterloo to Canary Wharf in 8 minutes? How about feeling like you're on a ride at Alton Towers (complete with whiplash, nausea and G-forces)? How about flying over the slipwaves of other very much larger boats to ensure my breakfast stayed just about at throat level?!
I can't recommend this enough. So much fun and I challenge you not to scream!

Victorious (and exhausted)

For all of the world to see - the day I ran 5km for Race for Life and raised £300 for the cause. Worth bearing in mind that three months previous to this photograph I did not own trainers, and also that on the day this photograph was taken, it was 32degrees. On that basis, I'm pretty damn proud of my 38 minutes!!

College days

Well I'm now officially a student and it's going fine. The course is fascinating, if not particularly taxing (only 2 1/2 days in college a week!) but I'm beginning the understand the complexities of the arts funding system in Britain. Unsurprisingly, I guess, it transpires that once again, it all just comes down to money...
Which brings me onto my next subject. My brain (and commitment levels) are not quite up to returning to the emerald city of legal secretarying so I can't quite confirm it yet, but I may have blogger land to thank for employment for the next coming months! I'm very excited by the prospects on the doorstep, but you'll have to wait for the secrets to be revealed in the coming days.
Suffice to say, my love of knickknacks, retail and giftwrap may all be coming together in a fabulous big trifle of love very shortly!
All I can say now is ... watch this space...

Me on Tinterweb

My only photographic contribution to the wonders of blogging before Beholden was born was an excitement-inducing posting of my picture on the fabulous Dressaday blog.

If you scroll down on this page to the Duroesque (again) post, that rather stretched and headless photo is me!

Erin (McKean, the incredibly intelligent and gorgeous blogger at DaD) is now talking about bringing together all Duro loveliness to create a handy link at the side of the page so I'll have to get a wiggle on with the liberty fabric I found at this great shop in South Kensington so I can show her the other Duros that I have on my production line.

My autumnal resolution is to photograph everything that I make so that I can have a record of my creations. Will I remember to photo, post, and blog?! As well as the gym membership I've just started?! One can only hope...

Old pictures that make me smile...

As this site has now been unofficially launched to some of my friends, goddaughters and family, I thought it would be fun to post a few old photographs now that I have the technology to share them. So, here goes...

Paris when it sizzles

My birthday present from my sister was a weekend in Paris. The hotel was hysterical and brilliant. I found the Hotel Esmerelda on the lonely planet site. The second picture shows the stairway up to our room: the wallpaper is actually sheets of wrapping paper glued on in layers. It was fabulously central (most rooms overlooked Notre Dame, though ours, at forty euro a night, didn't)

My top tip from the weekend was Les Marolles, a district north east of Notre Dame and absolutly gorgeous. The interiors shops and homewares were stunning and the buildings and halal and kosher pizza shops delicious. The only glitch was the area's consciousness of its popularity which resulted in too many signs in French, English and German, which always makes me feel like a tourist and slightly ruins the feelings of discovering a new area that I enjoy most about holidays. It's like seeing a person who's really well dressed strutting around waiting for someone to notice them. It just ruins the aftertaste of an initially eyecatching combination or outfit. Loving my mixed metaphors.

Just around the corner from our hotel was the wonderful Shakespeares Bookstore. A fantastically *Parisian* man sat reading a paper, oblivious, or possibly ignoring, the number of people photographing him looking picture perfect. There was even a woman with a vintage cinecamera shooting him reading. I think Cate trumped the whole unsubtle crowd by snapping a picture of her shooting him. Now that's postmodern...

My last day...

Today is my last day in the office for a while. I have been a mindless secretary in order to build a nest egg to pay for a return to college. The egg is nested (though sadly not as rotund as I had hoped) and I start my course in two weeks' time. I have made two very great friends at this firm and I will be sad to leave our lunches and wanderings around the City behind.

I will not, however, be sad to leave the monotony, the assumptions of stupidity, the slowly explained instructions for perfectly simple tasks, the humdrum and office politics. I am looking forward with pencilcase loads of trepidation to the beginning of a new life. I'm also terribly anxious. I spent two of my three years as an undergraduate as a not very happy bunny. I developed pretty severe depression under the pressure I put myself under, coupled with a rather nasty breakup and some rather flaky housemates.

This time around I'm very aware of the impression I want to give and the impression I give to people when I'm aware of myself. These things are often at opposite ends of the spectrum of sane. I overanalyse to the nth degree and worry. And I'm going into overload at the moment. Everyone wants me to be excited about the course and I just can't muster it. All I can muster is abject fear and trepidation. I have no idea what to expect, in terms of the structure of the day, the spectrum of the students, the societies, whether I will fit in or feel ancient, and it all terrifies me. I am turning into a 'hornbeast' as I call it, snapping at anyone and moody to everyone. The cartoon above popped into my inbox yesterday and has stayed with me ever since. I am truly terrified that the current nastiness spewing forth from my mouth is not just the horrid effects of nerves and anxiety but a demonstration of the development of my personality.

I read Dorian Gray the other day. Perhaps it will start showing on my face if I am actually changing as a person. Maybe one day...