Foolish

Something is afoot..

Friday evening. 5pm. Scores of hard working ordinary people leave the office. They flood onto the sun-dappled streets, each step a little lighter. Each pace, their shoulders more relaxed. Every second, the frown lines start to melt away.

But this Friday, more so.  Because this Friday there is the long delicious prospect of three clear days ahead. Three days to be filled with fun. With sun. With the prospect of anything-goes.

For this is the Great British Bank Holiday.

Beached

Ok, well, maybe it's not always the sun part. But the fact is that when a bank holiday happens, the only place to go is the beach. Where the mere wisp of possible sunshine is grabbed onto and strangled with both hands; willing temperatures to soar, if only in our minds. Where one ray peeking from behind a cloud, is the only excuse you need to shed your normal clothes and parade around in something that you would feel a little chilly in sitting indoors, if truth be told.

Pleasure

Last weekend, was one such weekend. And we were actually lucky enough to have one really super massive hot late spring day. One of those days when, if you sit still, and bask in the sun, a cardigan feels like far too stuffy a thing to be wearing.  One of those days that gives you a tantalising glimpse of the long summer of potential ahead.

I literally can't sea enough food

We took the decision earlier that week, that weather permitting, we would take a trip to Brighton. 

Weather certainly seemed to be playing ball, so one 40 minute train ride later, we rolled into the station and found our way down to the shore.

End of the pier fun

I grew up in another British seaside town, Bournemouth, so I never really had the drive or the inclination to travel to somewhere that was essentially the same, in my mind, but stony of beach (as opposed to Bournemouth's sand).

What a fool.

Frontin'

Brighton reminds me of Bournemouth, in as much as it's by the sea and comes with all the usual seaside trimmings. 

But it's that much nicer in so many ways.  The architecture is far more historic.  You don't have to pay just to walk on the pier.  Stones really aren't that uncomfortable to sit on.

Recline why don't you?

Brighton is prettier, quainter yet still with a cool edge. In comparison, Bournemouth is like its younger sister who tries too hard. And ruins their (probably) quite naturally pretty face with far too much make-up in an effort to keep up. And by that I mean, it's built far too many modern buildings and entertainments completely unsympathetically to its historical surroundings, so that the seafront is no longer quaint, but rather garish and loud.

Fro-yo in The Laines

And don't even get me started on the shops in Bournemouth.  It's long been a sore subject with me. There are slim to no independent boutiques, eateries or pubs in the centre of town any more, rather everything is a corporate sellout.  In contrast, not far from the beach, Brighton has a lovely shopping experience known as The Laines, with very few chain stores to be found.

Carousel

I mean don't get me wrong, I love a lot of things about Bournemouth's surrounding area. The New Forest, The Purbecks and the gorgeous town of Christchurch all have a dear place in my heart.  

But Bournemouth itself has lost its way.

If you want to see a big British seaside town done well, and done right, go to Brighton.

Can't get enough of those waltzers..

Like Bournemouth, but better.

Keep Me Posted

Wish you were here...

Everybody likes post. I know I do.  Especially unexpected post. Not bills, or junk mail, but proper post.  Just those little notes to cheer people up, make someone's day, tell them good news and let them know they were thinking of you.

Postcards: 30p; Gemstones: 1.50; Labour: 2 hrs; Having someone know you care: Super Safe, Yo

These postcards were something I made when I moved to London to let friends and family know of my new address.  Rather than send the lame "I've moved" pre-prepared notelets you can buy in shops that have no personality whatsoever, I decided to find the cheesiest London postcards in the world and customize them by gluing individual gemstones spelling out "I've moved" instead.

I suppose that yes, it did take longer than just filling in the template of a pre-prepared notelet. But that's not the point. The point is I used my creativity, my hands, and time to make something small but unique to send a message to the people I love.  And to me, that's worth it.

Goodies from afar!

There's someone else who knows the value of post for making people feel special.  Amber from CodeForSomething has recently been on a bit of a travel extravaganza in the Far East.  She wrote a post that touched on a lot of the points that I have above, and ended it with the generous offer of sending a little token something from her travels to anyone that wanted it.

Pamphlet from Barbie Shanghai

I entirely agreed with everything she had to say on the subject, and of course, I was not going to let an opportunity for fun post go to waste!

I emailed Amber to let her know where to send her post to, and waited.  I was really only expecting a postcard, but Amber did so much better than that!

Good luck money

She had sent me lots of small tidbits of her travels: Asian money (I believe this is good luck?) in a red envelope, an explanatory postcard, and a pamphlet from the super massive Barbie store in Shanghai! I thought that was so thoughtful, as when Amber reported on this mecca for brand-lovers everywhere on her blog, I had commented to say that I loved the look of it.  So to include this was super special!

Thank you Amber! And for the rest of you, think about how personalised post makes you feel, and next time you have the opportunity, take some time out to try and help someone feel the same. It'll make someone smile. Promise!

Easter egg-cerpts

"I've nested on a cake... and what?"

I'd recommend you get a nice cup of tea/coffee/insert your own favourite beverage here, before you start reading this.  It's a bumper post of epic proportions. 

I've taken a wee mini break from blogging to fully immerse myself in all that Easter had to offer. As you can see the first thing I did was to make an Easter cake, from my Kitchen Revolution book.  Unfortunately, whilst it looked lovely, the mini-eggs that were supposed to be found throughout the cake, all sunk to the bottom. Boo! But it gave some wayward chicks a home for a few days, so it can't be all bad!

One a penny, two a penny

For Easter weekend, the whole family gathered together at my aunties house.  After an Easter Sunday breakfast of hot cross buns, the Easter Egg Hunt planning begins.

Making tokens of chocolatey affection

After the eggs have all been hidden, the briefing of the troups begins: laying down the ground rules (it was wet, so all indoors; and no pushing, shoving, biting, scratching, eye-gauging or fish-hooking).

Dad = full brief mode; Troups = bemused

After the briefing, the specialist egg-finding equipment is dished out (ok, plastic bowls), and let the finding commence!

Happy happy joy joy

My brother was quick off the mark, scoring four mini eggs in quick succession after a particularly fruitful root around the mantlepiece.

The staircase was less successful

The troups scoured high and low: no ornament or book was left unturned!

Until, finally, success. All tokens (to be exchanged for big boxed eggs) and mini eggs were accounted for.

Later, in the afternoon, sunshine and roast dinners sprung forth:

And then, later, much much later, the best part of Easter, the ceremonial eating of all your Easter eggs as fast as is physically possible without making yourself ill.

And we're all pros at that..

***

Hope everybody else had a great Easter weekend!

Where She Only Needed To Add The Treacle

Fork off... it's mine..

On Saturday, I bought two important additions to the house. One of these was a flan dish, and the other was a rolling pin. 

Now, I thought, this is brilliant. Not only can I make nice tarts and things, but I can also chase my unruly housemates around when they misbehave, in a comedy fifties housewife fashion.

Plate courtesy of Holly Patton's GreenGate collection

No, let's be serious. The rolling pin was so that I could make my very first attempt at pastry from scratch! None of this shop manufactured malarky! Actual, old-fashioned flour, butter and eggs pastry. And what better to do with it than to make a nice, lovely, gorgeous, sticky and sweet treacle tart? 

Don't you just want to rub your face in your screen right now? No? Just me?

With cream. Yes, lashings and lashings of gorgeous cream. 

Oh, in other news, I joined the gym today.

These two events are unrelated.

"After listening to you guys for five minutes, I know I'm still drunk..."

History matters... It's only Natural..

Yesterday was Mother's Day here in the UK.  Last year I made my thoughts on the subject perfectly clear.  

This year, I was once again, nowhere near my mummy, but I did send her a lovely rose bush and a lovely biscuit card from these guys.  She loved both, it is reported.  Never fear, I will be seeing her at Easter, so I am not neglecting Mummy Lj.

Nevertheless, I and two other rogue housemates were set adrift on Sunday with not a lot else to do after the rounds of maternal-based phone calls.

So we decided to take a trip to the Natural History Museum.

I've been to the Natural History Museum many times when I was younger. And I always had the best time. I love that it hasn't changed an awful lot even since the first time I went, and yet the exhibits are still as enthralling as the first time I saw them as a kid. An odd mix of the wonderfully familiar and the excitingly new. 

And it's educational, you can't beat that. 

Concentric

I love that my mum remembers going as a girl and being in awe at the huge dinosaur skeleton exhibit in the entrance hall, and that I have the exact same memory from some 25 years later. As do thousands of people up and down the country.

I love the beautiful architecture of the building, and the many buttons there are to press!

And as much as I love love love New York, their Museum of Natural History is a stark disappointment and falls far short of the London version. 

One of the other benefits of going to the Natural History Museum, is that you are not far at all from another amazing place, The Hummingbird Bakery.

What would life be like without cupcakes? Let's all hope and pray we never have to find out..

We chowed down on a couple of these bad boys and headed home.  We talked rubbish on the train (standard), and were actually entertaining (or odd, you decide) enough for one fellow passenger to actually turn off his music and listen to our conversation as his preferred source of in-train entertainment.

Everybody seemed to be in a good mood, and the sun was shining.

Good times.

Sprung has Spring

Sprung has totally spring, yeah?

Oh yeah, sprung has totally spring...

Blossom: courtesy of the many trees I am passing on my walk to work at the moment. Bliss.

Birthday flowers: courtesy of Holly Anne Patton.

Thank you!! xoxo

***

Also, big thanks to Jules of Candy Hearts who has given me my first ever award, y'all:

Ooh, award, shiny award.

Apparently, or so the story goes, these awards are doled out to blogs that are deemed to invest and believe in Proximity - nearness in space, time and relationships. Blogs that are exceedingly charming. To bloggers that aim to find and be friends (can't argue with that).

I am supposed to go on and tag bloggers that I think are the embodiment of the above. So (Hm, decisions decisions...) I am tagging:

♥ Of course, Helen from Little Doll Face (someone who is as lovely in person as she is in blog)

♥ Carrie from WishWishWish (even though she's super popular she still manages to make time to comment over here!)

♥ Amber from Code For Something (she remembered to wish me happy birthday and always writes amazing content!)

♥ And finally, Deana from Dooder City (she's fabulous and from Williamsburg therefore she's for the win!)

Spread the blog love this spring, dudes...

***

The Wombles of Wimbledon Common Are We

I got down in the grass to take this. Like a womble. Except I didn't pick up any litter.

Sunday was amazing. Sunday was the day that Spring Sprung Forth into My Life. And with gusto no less! 

We woke up, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping. I opened the window and could smell the soft sweet fragrant smell of the blossom from the trees outside. Clearly it was not a day to be spent indoors.

Holly, Laura and I (we're housemates, but I like to think of us musketeers. Because there are three of us. Original? No. True? Actual? Why, yes, yes it is.) took a lovely little crazy tram ride to Wimbledon.  

Wimbledon, for those who are not schooled in such things, is a suburb of London, and it's on the tube network, yet far enough outside to feel like a little village of it's own.  And of course, every June, something happens with some tennis.

However, we went there, to potter in the shops, womble on the common, and eat delicious cakes.

Ok so, clearly, this post is going to involve a hell of a lot of drool, at least from me... So feel free to let rip..

Ah yes, the cakes. We went to the Wimbledon branch of Paul's.  Paul's specialises in yummy, French fayre. Les sandwiches! Les tartes! Les tasses du the! And, something that very much amuses my bouche... 

Thats chocolate and vanil...*droooooooooooolll*

Les macaroons!! Les yummy! OH oh, but of course, let us not forget les pieces de resistance...

Wow. My gosh. I mean, seriously, my mouth has just filled with saliva...

LES ECLAIRS....!!! This one had chocolate cream on the inside. Oh yes it did. I kid ye not. Bon appetite indeed. 

After chowing down on all these amazingly rich treats, we had to work it out. Work it off. Work it down. You know, balance the inputs with the outputs yeah? We needed to take a wee walk around the common. 

Aw, old couple in the background. Aw.

And by wee walk, clearly I meant find the nearest bench and stalk old people with my camera.

Beautiful!