Tuesday, July 27, 2010

two questions for you

I like to pop in every day to tell you how fabulous your blog is and how much I adore your new bread-basket, vanity publication, opinion, or hand-embroidered shift. Some days, however, it just doesn't happen. This is because of work, being preoccupied with my preoccupations and, more than anything, the demands of motherhood.

People with no children, feel free to surf quietly away from here now. Book an island-hopping trip in the South Seas or rearrange your headpieces or whatever it is you do before elevenses. It's so long ago that I've forgotten. The rest of you, can you tell me this:

[dressed at last]

a) If a child insists on singing her song, her special song, composed by herself, about how much she likes her Mamma, between every item of clothing, how can getting dressed be expedited? The song is seven verses long and involves arm gestures. A pair of socks counts as two garments. The theory is, I believe, that one should get in tune with the child's schedule, but will that get us to the shops before they close?

b) For how long should a train, carefully made from large cardboard boxes, painted and adorned with a steering-wheel and funnel, be kept after the child starts losing interest in it (yet still assumes that it will be treasured forever)?

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Thank you, House & Home

House & Home have given me a subscription to their magazine,
heralding a whole year of lounging about
on my fine collection of sofas
reading of other people's glossy kitchens
and thrifted chandeliers
while imaginary household members carry tea to me
on fashionable trays.



[Thank you, House and Home.]

This is surely an auspicious thing.
Golfing Weekly will contact me
for a three page illustrated feature on my Swing
(if that is suitable golfing terminology),
my homemade fudge will be showcased
in the Dublin Metropolitan Museum of Homemade Fudge
and the New Yorker will ply me
with foreign dollars.
Great Britain,
in its Great Way,
will name an ocean liner after me, or a beer.

I'll be famous in Blogtopia,
my aura will expand,
ambassadors will court me
and parfums will bear my brand.
My posts will be ghostwritten
as I'll be so in demand
and then I'll give it up for music
and the free electric band.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

a new kitchen shelf

My new kitchen shelf provides convenient and user-friendly household access to hot beverages.

[forever twenty past two]

You're probably diving head first for the comment box to tell me that the clock is all wrong. I realise that it's the done thing to have a large vintage clock face in faded chalky colours with a Thos J. Smythe & Fils logo, but I can't bring myself to do it. I regret that this has to come between us.

OK then, it's not that big a deal. I'll take down the clock. Here's a photograph that will look fine above the shelf instead.


Courtesy of my lovely friend Annie's visit to Brighton, it represents the majesty of the ocean and commemorates former President Coca-Cola of America. A more timeless look, you think?

Sunday, July 11, 2010

is this microphone on?

Prominent socialite Mise of Pretty Far West appeared this evening at a press conference to address rumours concerning her recent lack of blogging.

Ms PFW, wearing an off the shoulder green silk Balenciaga gown and a candy-striped Cath Kidston oven glove, explained that her silence was due to such compelling factors as bathroom renovation, the dark, damp weather that discouraged photography, the unfolding tragedy of Peter and Jane (book 4a) and the humanitarian impulse to sit around eating buns (cupcakes, fairy cakes) in sympathy with her commentators.

[Pink Daughter learns to read]

The PFW press office confirmed to reporters that Mise is currently in rehearsal for demonstrations of how to fold a t-shirt. When asked how this was going, she replied self-deprecatingly that Scottish Husband had mastered the skill immediately while she was still trying to unwrap the chopsticks.

[how it rains and rains on the lifestyle]

A clearly astonished Ms PFW went on to reveal that she hadn't recently received any blogging awards and so could not divulge the traditional 137 facts about herself, but was hoping to stage a spectacular comeback with a new kitchen shelf, just above the dishwasher, in the next few weeks.

Ms PFW's fans were enjoined as they departed to please enjoy this blog post responsibly.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

planning to be poetic

Away from the computer for a week, I was killing me softly with my own domesticity: arranging flowers, baking, upcycling, entertaining, reading, making, rearranging, discouraging cheating at Snakes & Ladders.


[it seems to me I live my life like a candle in the wind, never knowing whether it's ok to put lilies in gin]


[a new padded seat for the porch bench - the lazy way is to use cotton pillowcases as covers]


[a dress becomes a bag for Pink Daughter]

A walking, talking edition of the Ladies' Home Journal: that's the current me. Perhaps I'll turn all fey and poetic for a month now and appear in your comment box in floaty dresses and amulet necklaces with knitting needles in my hair, talking about the essence of sisterhood and the ocean currents but mostly about fate and my heart. Or my Heart, as Emily Dickinson so rightly terms it.

A brave step for someone like me who has never written a novel, never so much as owned a pair of lucky socks. Bless this enabling Internet!
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