Liquorice Allsorts and Wodehouse

In the latest issue of The Gloss, Polly Devlin has a round-up of coping strategies used by people in stressful or anxious circumstances. My favourite method mentioned is that given by the actress Frances Tomelty: a bag of Liquorice Allsorts, a few chapters of 'Just William' or a dip into Wodehouse.

I've turned to Wodehouse (or O. Henry or Saki, others of his ilk) in the past for that same purpose, and although I've abandoned Liquorice Allsorts since I had the misfortune one day to catch a glimpse of their calorie-count and salt-content, 70% chocolate has an inexplicable allure after a day of work, housework and playing with Pink & Blue Daughters, so that I frequently find myself in front of the baking ingredient cupboard on the way to the wine rack, even though it's not on the way to the wine rack.

Not that I drink, or eat anything with sugar in it.

And then there is blog-reading, of course. The breathless excitement of the giveaways isn't good for my weak heart, but, those aside, the waves of images and opinions and fascinations wash over me like a soothing sea. It's a wonder Polly Devlin didn't ring me and I'd have told her that.

personal art

Some of my favourite pieces of art in the house are those of personal relevance.



Such as the giant wall-hanging in the playroom of Pink Daughter as a small, sleepy baby, created by my sister.

Or the oils of flowers and trees painted by Scottish Grandma, which hang in the sitting room.

homework & this & that

Pink Daughter had her first homework assignment this week. My childhood evenings were plagued with essays and fractions when I could have been reading Jackie and Just Seventeen, so I'm going to do hers until she goes to a Swiss finishing school and studies deportment and etiquette. I'm never sure how to address a Marchioness and can't help her with that.

If you'll forgive my boasting, I can do homework a bit faster than she can. I've already written some beautifully curved letters C and coloured in a cup, a cat and a candle.

[Images: jaboopee, Guardian Gallery via Silent Storyteller]

Also this week I laughed at jaboopee in her dressing gown and rollers in the beautifully overwrought room above, purchased An Education so as to appear to be keeping up with popular culture, and was captivated by Vilhelm Hammershøi's interiors, presented by Silent Storyteller. You're all probably sitting round wondering what to give me for Christmas. A framed print of this, or indeed an original, would do nicely. Failing that, pearls please or some fancy cheese.

occasional Swedish whims

I believe this may be what they call an occasional chair, so I only sit on it occasionally. Better safe than sorry. Much though I love its vivid stripes, I sometimes think I'd like a Swedish slipcover and a whole new look.

These crisply striped covers, photographed by Martin Cederblad via Desire to Inspire, would be the very thing.

I still haven't managed to source anything like these, with their pretty practicality and echoes of nautical Victoriana. If I were the wonderful Yvonne of Yvestown, I'd make my own, but I think I'm just not up to it despite my valiant purchase of 'Sew'. Doesn't hers look cheerful and inviting?

[Image: Yvestown]

I've also dreamt of being crowned Miss Sweden ever since I started writing this post, but I guess I'm too old now, as well as not being Swedish. So that's it. No slipcover, no beauty queen title. A melancholy day here.

dancing in high heels

I'd sometimes like to be taller. At 5 feet 8 inches, I'm probably of average height but average is only average. At a lovely wedding in Killashee House this Halloween, the merry dancing continued into the night, and as the women spun on I watched many of them abandon their high heels and suddenly shrink. They turned from exotic creatures of grace and beauty into slightly shorter exotic creatures of grace and beauty. What a difference.

Here's the heel height I normally dance in.

[Image: Barefoot Tess]

And here's my planned acquisition, the heel height I can't dance in. Yes, I know, it's not a stiletto and you, dear reader, can do the moonwalk in four inch heels and stilts while balancing a giveaway win on your head, but I can't. I have other talents, but how insignificant they seem now.

So I'm going to practice dancing in high heels. Please stand back.

Mary Grant

Soft jersey, lace and floaty layers. A fitted swing and a flounce. How perfectly Mary Grant's designs lend themselves to an artistic and mildly eccentric image.

(images from http://www.marygrant.com)

I'd like all of these outfits, but most particularly that white dress and wrap with its charming sleeves. I can think of no more delightful way to mask my non-artistry and conventionality.

utterly devoted to lifestyle

Let it not be said that I don't embrace this blogging pursuit wholeheartedly. In the past, I spent holiday weekends quelling the masses or sitting in my counting-house, counting out my money. Now, I devote myself to lifestyle. No moment of lifestyle passes in my household without everyone being instructed to Hold That Pose.

So we made bread, which mercifully rose, and Nigella Lawson's Ricarelli biscuits for Mamó's birthday party. Cheese scones and peanut cookies for visitors. You name it, we baked it.
When it rained, we damply appreciated nature, and we knitted a bedraggled scarf for dollie. But the coup de grâce was the purchase of Cath Kidston's Sew, the lifestyle blogger's passport.

It includes everything I need to make the charming bag depicted on the cover. Perhaps I'll even make it. I can imagine myself walking round the streets with it, meeting others proudly flourishing the same bag. A secret understanding would pass between us, the bond of women who would like to be creative but don't have time to cut our own fabric AND read all the blogs, goddammit.

So this post includes a helpful facility for all those people who career madly round the Internet, commenting on all the blogs. Today, you can just type A, B, C or D. No need to thank me.

A. My, what a charming LIFESTYLE that is you are depicting.

B. What? I don't understand. What?

C. Why won't you talk to me? (You never talk to me.)

D. My friend loves those curtains!