Staff meeting apologies to be minuted.

I would like to proffer formal apologies for my non-attendance at Saturday's Inaugural Staff Meeting but, factoring in the time difference and all, I have a reasonable excuse - I read the memo too late and was already booked to go into Central London.

Getting off the train at Waterloo I took the Tube to Regent's Park. A mistake on my part but the walk down Great Portland Street onto Portland Place resulted in me ending up in front of my life's soundtrack - Broadcasting House.

At this point I went 'cross-country' crossing Cavendish Square and using a non-Oxford Street entrance went into John Lewis. Squeeeeeeee! The biggest JL in the country and there was no one with me who would whinge, moan or roll their eyes about mooching through its seven floors of consumer heaven.

I spotted the 'Bobbi Brown' counter and meandered over hoping they would give me a whole new look. Nothing. So I looked at the woman behind the Benefit counter meaningfully. She sat me down and proceeded to apply her products. It was only once my chin was being twisted in her firm grip that I took a proper look at her. A Yemeni drag queen with an obvious passion for turquoise eye shadow and Nefertiti eye liner applying a make-up line created by a company in San Francisco. This did not bode well. I made the decision to stay clear of Soho when I was out walking again.

By the time I escaped her potions, lotions and puce talons it was 12:30 and my meeting with my aunt was scheduled for 2pm. Turning left into Oxford Street I headed toward the first mandatory stop in any visit I make to the Big Smoke - Liberty of London then across Regent Street and down Savile Row and onto Old Bond Street for a look through the windows of all the flash jewellers. Heading onto Piccadilly I went past the Ritz and into Park Place to meet my very aged aunt at the Royal Overseas League Club.

Given that she is a few weeks off 81 and had spent the previous four days hitting the highlights of London - two theatre trips, visits to Patisserie Valery, walks around the galleries and just that morning a trip to get her hair done - I declined her offer to walk around Green Park and we sat and had tea in the gardens at the 'Club'.

Having exchanged all our news over a couple of hours I left to head back to Waterloo to get my train. Once back onto Piccadilly there was nothing for it but to head straight to Fortnums where the concierge of the China department tempted me to a weekend in London by telling me about the special Burleigh event happening in-store on Monday. I stayed strong and resisted but it was hard.







A tree grows even in Central London on this corner of Albemarle Street & Piccadilly.


Moving through London is a bit tricksy any day at 5:00 but on a warm(ish) Spring Friday the people were everywhere so rather than squeeze onto public transport I decided to walk across town.

In search of a present for destructoBoy I stared death in the eye and entered Lillywhites. Five floors of sporting goods and equipment. With my prize claimed and good mother staus assured I continued on, crossing Pall Mall and passing the Athenaeum Club I walked down onto The Mall.

(that tiny speck at the end is Buckingham Palace -honest)

I walked through the archway and out onto Trafalgar Square.

Turning the other way I could see Big Ben at the far end of Whitehall.

With an hour and a half until departure I decided to walk up The Strand and cross the Thames up near Fleet Street.

Looking up the river The Palace of Westminster and The London Eye were silhouetted by the Constable-like clouds.

The Royal Festival Hall in the foreground. I wish I had taken a picture of the fabulous 25 foot tall straw fox artwork that is out in front of it at present.

On the other side of Waterloo Bridge is St.Paul's Cathedral, 'The Gherkin' and the beginnings of 'The Shard'.
And then rounding the Imax I was at Waterloo Station with just enough time for a restorative drink before heading off into the sunset on my trusty Great Western steed.

And so I hope the committee will accept my apologies and reasons. I hope to make a staff meeting one day.

(All pics taken with my camera phone and I am NOT responsible for Blogger's stupid layout shenanigans.)

Recent times in pictures

The White Rabbit was late for a seventh birthday party!

Gorgeous Baby Will.

Hanging out on top of The Hill.
My Assistant in the Winter sunshine.

Mother's Day Dinner made by destructoBoy.

Ever wondered what living in a cloud is like?

It is damp

and grey

with limited visibility.

Dear Sunshine, two days wasn't enough. Please come back soon. Love, trash

ScottFest 2010

Move over Glasto! The kids and I headed to ScottFest last Saturday.

The weather order was filled perfectly. Blue skies, huge fluffy white clouds and no breeze.

We got there early and set-up the prettiest tent in the universe and while the terences went off to explore I sat and read the paper CK had packed for me.

One of the dads took great delight in teaching d/Boy to ride a motorbike. My boy was a bit wobbly to start but after the first circuit of the showgrounds he got it and was off. Ride like the wind Bullseye!

Princess Curly-Wurly took full advantage of the mahoosive blow-up assault course and the stilts (Although fortunately NOT at the same time. No broken legs here thanks.) before comandeering the quad bike and pegging it around the perimeter of the venue as fast as she could. My heart was in my mouth the entire time until she took me on a ride and I realised 'as fast as she could' was not the same as 'as fast as the quad will go'.

Despite packing two bedrolls, three pillows, one mahoosive airbed, three sleeping bags, two duvets, two double thickness fleece blankets, a basket of warm clothes to wear as the evening approached, jammies, loo roll, knitting, drawing paper and pencil, food to keep the troops going through until breakfast including my assistant, water for us all, a deckchair for me and picnic blanket for the rest (breath) two trips were required back up the hill. The first was for more food and water. The second for CK's spare set of car keys because I was sure I had locked his in the boot. The alternative was too dreadful to consider.

The whole event was chilled out and relaxed with people taking it in turns to cook, tend to children, mix and pour drinks. There was a marquee put up so that the evening's entertainment (Nick Tatham) had somewhere to sit while he played and a fire pit for us all to stand around and toast marshmallows once he had finished.

One of my arch-nemesis was there and put his mono-pod (or eco-pod or some such stupid name for a solid-sided domed tent) right in front of my prettiest-tent-in-the-universe. Within about five minutes he came across all smiley, hippy-happy and said

'Can't we be friends? I hate having to avert my eyes when I see people.'

'I'm not the one who said I don't like Australians' says I sunglasses down, attitude high.

'Oh you shouldn't take any notice of that. I'm a South African. (WTF?!?) Friends?' as he stretched out his hand.

Again he said 'Friends?'

Sunglasses still on I agreed and shook his hand, all the while grimacing on the inside.

d/Boy was getting quite tired by 10pm so after making the mahoosive trek to the far end of the Showgrounds and using the real loos (glamping all the way here baby) he, my assistant and I retired for the night. After a 20 minute struggle with the bedding mountain we fell asleep. Princess C-W crawled in at 11.30!

We slept well until half 3 when the requisite night-time wee was required. Of course I could not find the lead so had to hold my assistant while excavating a very sleepy d/Boy from the bedding mountain then around the back of the tent for a wee rather than head to the other end of the field. All relatively straight forward until my bladder decided it too needed to experience the full joy of camping so still holding my assistant I had to undertake all aspects of outdoor weeing with one free hand.

The whole experience was exacerbated by the proximity of the tent to a boarding kennels. My assistant was wriggling like a lunatic and growling through my hand clamped around her jaw all while d/Boy was standing admiring the bazillion stars visible in the cloud-free sky. As we settled back inside the blanket mountain that d/Boy turned to me and said 'I don't like camping.'

We shall see next Summer my boy, we shall see.

It's too darn hot...

... generally I refrain from mentioning the (infrequent) warmer weather we get here in the UK . Given that I spend so much of my life being cold and moaning about the freezingness of the great in and outdoors it seems churlish to have issues when the sun shines in a warm and long term manner. HOWEVER... the sun has been warmy and lovely for nearly two weeks now and I am more than a little pissed off that for the first time in many years my hayfever is back. And rocking the dripping nose. I sat watching England lose their lifeline game with TWO hankies to hand and v. scritchy eyeballs.

All of this is exacerbated by CK's brilliant plan for the weekend of 'sorting out' the garden. In reality this meantSaturday was spent shifting a few pots, finally aiding the children in planting up their tomato plants, organising the dust into little piles for Pr. C-W and d/Boy to sweep up and wrestling with making Maria officially topless. Exacerbated because I swept and planted and was left with dust covering not only my clothes but up my nose and through my hair. Cue more sneezing, snotting and general scratchiness.

The Family Fun Evening was in fact fun, not least because of the warmth, and ended with CK making a surprise appearance clutching a bottle of wine and my assistant, both children being invited to share Dervish & Dynamo's tent and the most spectacular moonrise I have ever seen. A glowing, orange, full moon seemingly just feet from my outstretched finger tips. A bit weird to be sharing food and wine with Moriarty but we managed to mutually ignore each other without too much antipathy. But by midnight my hayfever was exhausted and so I dragged CK away from the firepit and went home to fight with my duvet cover.

Sadly I lost the fight so covered a snoring CK with Pr.C-W's duvet and went off to sleep in her bed under d/Boy's one. It was an interesting experience, I know now why my girl wakes so early; I need to invest in a blackout blind for that window. By 7.30 I was rushing down the hill with breakfast of bacon, pancakes and cereal to prevent the emotional destruction that can be wrought by the empty-bellied destructoBoy. Fed half the campsite, found the lost football, drove Pr.C-W and two chums around in a topless Maria, had a falling out with an officious dad, moved my car and found the missing sleeping bag cover. Retreated up the hill with fingers crossed that Maria would make it and NOT run out of fuel leaving me stranded halfway up a 1:6 hill (=v. steep). TG we made it to the top and as far as the petrol station where patient and dirty children were rewarded with bottle of cold water and a Bounty each.

Home just minutes later meant shoehorning filth and face-paint covered children into the shower before everyone collapsed in a darkened room for the day. It was at this point that someone decided to continue with the Aran-weight (10 ply) knitting of a slipover top for Godson Will's Christmas present. Due to focus being on the situation in South Africa the band was ripped back three times and the whole lot flung across the room twice. It looks awfully big but he is visiting for the day on Wednesday so I shall measure it then. Fingers crossed he may even fit it by the holiday season.