Alnmouth

To stave off last week's post-show blues, I went to Alnwick with the mother.  We bought lots of fine things from charitable shops, and then went to the seaside at sunset.

 

Here I am all snuggly in my parka.

 

 

Dozy and reluctant to leave the comfort of my own pyjamas, I asked Mum what on earth I should wear.

 

"Start with sensible walking shoes, and work upwards from there", she replied.

 

 

Don't be ridiculous.

 

 

In the end I hoyed clothes at myself at random and was rather pleased with the result.

 

 

This photo's a bit unfortunate, but it shows what I liked about this look - the tiered skirt, thick tights and ankle boots made me feel like a naughty Victorian ruinning around in her bustle!

 

 

Also a bit like Peter Pan...

 

Mum proceeded to take some photographs withouit me in them, which I thought was a sorry waste, but other people seem to like Views, so here you go.

 

 

 

 



It's leading business, pet.

Hello from Theatreland!

Treading the boards this week, and it's Friday, which means we've just passed the halfway point of The Grand Duke.  It's all going more or less well, with only minor disasters so far, although the less that's said about my attempts to be a soprano, the better...  Strangely, this year the show-week hysteria, which usually possesses me for at least a fortnight before the show, only kicked in after the curtains closed on the second performance.  I was really quite worried and almost considered retiring from the stage, but today I woke up with the show-week jitters and am quite looking forward to showing off tonight.  Not quite at the point where, last year, one of my colleagues threatened to lock me in the stationery cupboard if I kept up my hourly "I'm going on-stage in X hours" updates, but a little excited nonetheless.

Anyway, sometime last week I happened across a post I made this time last year; a day-by-day run-down of a week similar to this one in last February.  I'm sharing it here again as a memento.  It was my favourite blahg post of 2012, and the week itself was probably my highlight of the year.  Every day I did exciting things with wonderful people and my often-sulky face was never without a "Smile for the camera, you say? Oh, go on then!" grin.

February 2012

Flouncing around

 

Do you know that when I was a little girl I was a proud tomboy?

 

 

Between the ages of 9 and 13 I did not once wear a dress.

 

I climbed trees and refused to brush my hair and dreamed of being a Gladiator when I grew up.

 

To this day I can't bear to wear pink.

 

 

Today, this post is brought to you by my all-consuming love for the feminine frills of my flouncy petticoat.

 

Funny, innit?

 

(As a post-script, I present a toilet's-eye-view of my beautiful petticoat hanging up to dry over the bath.  SO MANY LAYERS!)

 

 

 

January

 

I have high hopes for 2013.  This new year is going to be a panacea.  It's going to bring us a huge gulp of fresh, sweet air.  Giggling on the bridge at half-past eleven on the 31st, I expected to feel the change physically.  I was confident that our shoulders would lift, our heads would spin and our feet would dance the moment the clock struck twelve.

Of course, that wasn't the way it happened.  For one thing, there was no clock striking at all - people began a countdown on the Quayside, more people began a slightly unsynchronised countdown further up the Quayside, and as we on the bridge, bewildered, joined in at around '6', two off-kilter sets of fireworks exploded from different riverside locations.  But it was brilliant.

With a sense of February Dread looming (I've always found it a completely dismal month, haven't you?), I had begun to find myself losing faith in 2013 already (I found myself typing "I had high hopes" at the beginning of this post!)...  But!  Thinking about it, that rather lovely New Year's Eve really seems like much longer than a month ago.  A hundred tiny adventures ago. This January I may have measured out my life with coffee spoons, but in the past thirty-one days I have:

 

* Swum in the sea * Cooked home-made meals * Begun to learn BSL * Cried * Sung * Played netball * Drunk cocktails * Argued * Laughed * Read three good books and two excellent short stories * Hired a locksmith * Had a trip to the cinema * Flirted * Rehearsed * Discovered a new favourite cafe * Walked in fresh midnight snow * Regretted * Been to a party * Been to a restaurant * Fallen off my bike * Kissed * Visited a capital city * Had a hangover * Enjoyed the lighter days! * Hated and loved my job * Been to a fair * Had my hair done * Whinged * Explored a graveyard * Bought shoes with sequins on  * Lost at Scrabble *
* Made resolutions *

Not too dusty.  Come on then, February, let's have you.



I could never curl my lip to a dazzling diamond clip

Today I went to the Grainger Market, to the cobbler (for new soles), to the watch-mender (for a watch battery) and to the haberdasher (for buttons).  Alice was delighted by the vintage nature of my shopping trip, and insisted I also go to the Weigh House to weigh myself and to the greengrocer to buy vegetables measured in pounds. (I didn't)

Anyway, the point of this story is that my old faithful Past Times watch was pronounced dead, so I came home and began to trawl eBay for a replacement.  (I'm ashamed to admit I had been trawling for at least half an hour before I realised the hilariousness of adding items to my 'watch list'...)  I found a few possibles (although I have been having terrible luck with online shopping lately!) but time and time again my eye was drawn to particularly lovely antique watches that all had two things in common - they all cost colossal numbers of pounds and they all featured the name of a certain Monsieur Cartier...

 

I'm not sure what it is about them that appeals to me, but I love them all!  I hope you enjoyed the chronograph picspam as much as I did, but now onto more sparkly matters.

 

A quick Google search gave me a little info about the Cartier brand, and I learned all about the iconic Cartier panther; originally designed in 1914, it became world-famous when it appeared on a series of jewels made for (who else?) Wallis Simpson.

 

 

 

The onyx-and-diamond creature broke world records when auctioned at Sotheby's in 2010 - at £4,521,250 it fetched the highest price of any bracelet ever!

 

 

Even though it reminds me of when my mum was a Cabouchon rep in the 1990s, I like the panther - it's like something Mrs Cheveley would wear.  Hers was a snake, but panthers are more glamorous.  Grrr.

 

 

 This brooch was also made for the Duchess.

 

The panther has been seen in numerous glittering forms since Wallis' time, and last year it turned its paw to the silver screen, appearing as the star of L'Odyssée de Cartier, an extravagant short film made to comemmorate the 165th anniversary of Maison Cartier.

 



 

Watch it, it's a little bit amazing!

 

Yours covetously,

Bette

x

Mother's Ruin

Eh up.

In the absence of anything noteworthy appearing on these pages (in the absence of anything noteworthy appearing in my life), here is a photograph that I snapped because I was wearing an idiotic hair ribbon.

Don't bother with poisoned apples; Snow White likes GIN.

But I have decided instead to turn this toast post into an homage to one of my favourite Christmas presents.

Photographed hanging out with its pal, Gordon, here is a vintage china decanter label, which was given to my auntie for her 21st birthday, and now resides on a chain around my neck.

It's Saturday night, why stop at one?  Bottoms up!

 

Always drink responsibly, kids.

 

Tequila Sunrise

This afternoon at that time right after lunch when the North wind howls down the school corridors as the doors are opened to re-admit the red-cheeked, squabbling children, my colleague Tara swished past me as I perched on my plastic chair with my ginormous orangey-red llama-wool scarf tucked around my yellow frock and orange tights, and as she swished past, she remarked;

"Oh Elizabeth!  You look like a Tequila Sunrise!"

I thought this was amusing enough to make a Facebook status out of, and when I did so my little sister commented with a plea for a Boring Outfit Post, but I hadn't taken any snaps as it's too blooming dark both before and after work these days.

However, I did have a (dark and crappy, jazzed up with Picmonkey) photograph of a very similar outfit from one futile attempt to take Boring Outfit Pics last week.  So here it be, plus the same dress in its various other seasonal appearences!

 

Autumnal brights in gloomy November.

 

Very colourful last October, with my equally bright little sibling!

 

 

Posing with some superimposed butterflies in the Spring.

 

 

And finally - jingle those bells, it's Christmas time!

 

Hope you enjoyed my mustardy montage (and were not too irritated by my OCD-unfriendly lack of picture-size uniformality!)

 

Pianos and Petticoats

The Mothership asks me what I would like for my soon-to-be birthday.

I'm sure she hopes for practical, economical suggestions.

 

However...

 

 

 

Winter boots be damned, all I desire is a plinky-plonky old piano and a super-swishy Doris Designs petticoat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plink plonk.  Swish swish.

 

(Piano pictures from Pinterest, and petticoat pictures from Doris Designs' website)

 

 

Autumn Days

 

Brr.

 

Since I am very lazy and have not got round to swapping over my summer and winter wardrobes yet, my summer dresses are suddenly finding themselves reinvented as components of very layering-heavy ensembles.

 

Here's my picnic blanket dress, in both summer and autumn guises:

 

 

(L) With Office-via-Oxfam shoes and a vintage belt

(R) With a Primark jumper, New Look belt, black tights and supercool Fred Astaire shoes

 

Chilly corridors notwithstanding, here's a sneaky glimpse at what I intend to wear to work tomorrow, in celebration of Roald Dahl day:

 

 

 

I didn't bother to Google-Image research what the real Sophie-from-The-BFG looked like, but I think I got the general idea.  Any excuse to wear my vintage dressing gown!

 

Roald Dahl-related fact:  Mr Dahl died on my 4th birthday.  I always felt faintly responsible...