A Country Christmas

Well I like it, but then I like fairylights and big red poinsettias and gold glittery things and lots and lots of garlandy green things. It is in fact the one time of year where I am happy to embrace a slightly country look, because otherwise the hovel looks a bit wrong. There was the blue fairylight year and very funky they were too, I must admit they were inspired by my favourite hotel cocktail bar in Dublin (at the Morgan) but in country cottage, oh dear it just sort of didn't say cosmopolitan city chic more OMG Santa's Grotto crazy nut job alert. So I stick with a country type Kirsty Allsopp meets Nigella, meets Poundland sort of vibe.



It's actually quite cosy and comforting, rather like myself, not very exciting, maybe a bit predictable, but nice. Scruffbag loves Christmas, mainly because there's Turkey and chocolates and well lots of food that she can be spoiled with. As you can see here, she rather likes to share a cosy fireside wine with me.



This year of course we had snow, which is something that Scruffbag rather loves, she enjoys trying to catch snowballs, heavens only knows why , must be chilly on the nose. Equally she likes to try to join in with sledging (and yes someone did let her have a go with them, she loved it). I suspect she may have a teeny smidgeon of husky in her interesting doggy DNA somewhere, as she loves dragging me down the Lane which was not dissimilar to the Cresta Run. It was almost a new extreme sport, very exhilarating, similar to wake boarding (not that I'm exciting enough to do that, I'm just nice). Exciting enough for little me to be dragged down the road by a dog who clearly misheard "Heel" and "Stop dragging me you smelly hound" for "Mush".

Cooper on the other hand, can do without the snow, ta very much and looks appalled whenever he gets his paws wet. He looked panic stricken when he got caught outside in it. As you can see and decided it was a never to be repeated experience. (He has retired to the bedroom which thanks to new central heating (oh yes at long last), resembles Hawaii (fabulous).



Christmas Eve saw my first attendance at midnight mass (let's face it I need all the prayers I can get) which was quite enjoyable, love a good sing song me. It was very Midsomer Murders especially when the power failed and we were plunged into darkness. Pretty sure it was EDF being rubbish as ever, rather than an actual visitation but who knows. "If you see Miss Marple love run", made me chortle, but prompted tutting from more sober congregation members (ah well never mind hey). Here it is, the village church, very picturesque don't you think?



A frenzy of feasting for Christmas Day, then walkies with Scruffbag in the forest on Boxing Day (she's still smelly and snoring as I type). All in all, a pleasant enough country Christmas. No wake boarding, or tawny port or generally posing about thinking I'm god's gift or anything, but hey that's never been me and never will. I'm off to be boring , dependable, nice little me hot chocolate anyone? Oh and I will share my selection box, even the curly wurlies if you ask.

Merry Christmas everyone xoxo

Depeche Mode and a snowy london

I've always loved the Mode, so the chance to see them live again could not be missed, the added bonus being another trip to London which I love even though I always get lost on the Tube (nobody told me that non Circle line trains also go on it OK?).

I still get excited everytime I see the London Eye at night all blue and sparkly and a luminous St Paul's always makes me smile. I've been to the O2 before of course, but this time got the Thames Clipper to it and oh yes definitely the way to travel. As much as I love the hulabaloo of the Tube on a gig night
lets be honest it can get a tad pungent.

The Clipper however is very civilised and I was quite happy with a nice white wine floating down the Thames looking at the lights (must be down to the Trips to see the Blackpool 'luminations as a kid either that or I'm some weird fairylight fetishist). Arriving at the O2 via water was excellent, let's face it there is something very "Mother Ship" about it anyway so floating in was quite spacey for me (or maybe that was the wine who knows?).

Inside was excellent to, Tapas Tapas, yes I will have a large Rioja thanks and then a full scale funfair. Oh yes, we are talking helter skelters , whirly things and of course my all time favourite a Carousel. Devastated that it wasn't open and yes I did seriously think about trying to convince them to let me have a go.

Managed to make the support act Soulsavers, personally not that into them. Actually not that sure that anyone was that into them except Country Boy who bounced along in an enthusiastic manner proclaiming "Mark Lanegan's a musical genius" something which no else seemed to particularly be convinced by. I heard a small ripple of applause from somewhere else so I assume Mark Lanegan's mum and a few aunties were in attendance. My view? Well I "didn't hate it" which is good of course, he sounds a bit sort of Lou Reed (and I do love a bit of Lou) but it was an odd mix of Lou Reed vocals with an Indie band base and a frizzante of Madchester guitar jangles.

The Mode however were fabulous. From the opening In Chains onwards, every track was an amazing explosion of classic Modeness. It's hard to pick actual highlights. As ever Precious made me feel a little emotional "Thing's get damaged, things get broken" etc but I had also been fed some Becks by then too so perhaps the ice princess didn't melt.



"World in my Eyes" was a classic as ever, making you want to embark on some exotic adventure of discovery with Mr Gahan as your guide (ooh yes please even though I'm not a girl that likes tatoos when Dave whipped his top off even I got excited!).Hard to believe he's nearly at his half century).

The absolute ultimate came at the end though, Personal Jesus the whole O2 arena was on its feet to reach out and touch faith, the atmosphere completely electric by that point. As ever I took loads of pictures, here's a little sprinkling of images that popped in front of the viewfinder at some point.













I know they aren't amazing works of photographic genius but I like them and if it makes you get a little vibe of just how fantastic the Mode were then job done.

Post gig a wander back up the Southbank and through Westminster gave me chance to see more of the city at night. Somehow this little snap captures it:



Next day was spent exploring Covent Garden, Carnaby Street and Oxford Street. Liberty's and Fortnum and Mason's had to be done of course, the window displays alone being well worth a visit. But the image of the day for me was Carnaby Street which was when the snow started to fall.



Very me don't you think?

Another dimension, another dimension....

Cats generally are quite odd. Cooper - my present cat takes odd to a whole new level of oddness. I have spoken of Cooper before of course. The description of bandy legged, slightly camp serial killer still stands but since his recent adventure (which involved him going missing for a week, sparking a full scale village wide state of emergency) has meant that he's become even odder. He was found, on some steps just down the road, covered in coal dust, skinny and pretty traumatised. It later transpired that he had dislocated his tail, its true I even saw the Xrays and I had no idea how far a cats tail went up into his spine but ouch. I was pretty traumatised too, by the size of the vet bill.

Am pleased to report that the tail now seems almost normal and Cooper is on sparkling bird chasing, mouse molesting form (oh the joy of wrestling mangled mice in varying states of disrepair from him).

He has also decided that home is actually quite a good place to be, even with the building work his comfy chair by the fire seems appealing. Now he's recovered he likes to check up on the builders, a self appointed quality control inspector. He also appears to have strong views on power tools, specifically that they shouldn't be used when he wants a sleep and screeches at the builders to explain this to them.

In his self appointed Site Inspector role he prowls daily and so far he's been

1) rescued from a skip, thankfully before it was en route to Doncaster.

2) relocated to the house from his attempts to investigate the cement mixer (yes it was on at the time)

3) extracted from having a kip on the scaffolding lorry

Oh yes and then there was the whole incident with the wall tie drilling where Cooper appeared wholly convinced that he could stare Al out and the annoying noise would stop. It's enough to drive a girl to drink, even that Elderberry wine stuff that our Adie's mum makes.Ssh don't tell my consultant.

The upshot of Cooper's new home obsession took on an interesting new twist recently with the builders breaking through from the new extension to the current house. As I said on Twitter a bit like the Berlin wall coming down only with more cups of tea and hob nobs. That night you see Cooper came upstairs to investigate with us ( I suspect all day he'd been thinking "WTF, why is my house vibrating" and it was as I say as though Cooper had found a secret new dimension.

His sense of wonder was not dissimilar to the kids in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when they found aforementioned wardrobe. You could almost see him pausing and pondering the new dimension sort of like "OMG how did I never notice this bit before" debating whether he could really have missed a whole area of house to hide in for all this time or was it, oh yes far more likely, a portal had opened up to a new world, very Doctor Who. (he likes Doctor Who, except for the Daleks, he thinks they need to be terminated and is convinced there's a doorway at the back of the TV where he can get in and do for them and one day he'll find it , oh yes)

A full investigation of the new world was needed, which involved lots of panther like stalking around and sniffing. Of course I supervised and intervened where appropriate which interjections including "Cooper don't snort the cement" and "Cooper leave the cabling alone". then slightly more forceful "Cooper get the hell out from behind the bath".

I know what you're thinking "He's a cat, he won't know what you're saying" and yes I know that, I do, but I still talk to him the way my friends speak to their kids when they're being bratty. The investigation of the new dimension took some time of course because Cooper likes to be thorough. So I must confess on the third or maybe fourth stalk around the circumference of the room I reached breaking point, in need of a cup of tea and a nice chocolate digestive I stomped off and left him to it.

It wasn't that long, I promise, I'd finished the tea and the biscuit, well maybe three or four actually and then wondered where he was. So went to check and nope, nowhere to be seen not in the extenison, not in the bedrooms (not even under the beds),hadn't gone to dribble on my clothes in the wardrobe either and wasn't cuddled up with the printer (don't ask it makes him happy).

And then I heard a little cry, a Cooper whiny, "help me" sort of cry. Thing was where the hell was it coming from??. In the end I traced the sound back to the extension, not behind the bath or in the cement bag. There was nowhere else was there? Er oh yes a new built in wardrobe type thingy (yes I do have ideas above my station) and in there was a pile of wood, (well I suppose they sort of tidied up) and the cries came from there. Cooper was retrieved and scuttled of squeaking, presumably about the dangers of weird rooms that appear from nowehere and wood piles left therein.

Ever since then he views the new rooms with great suspicion and peers at them a lot through the new hall. He has also decided that I can't possibly take the risk of being left there unattended, so whenever I go for a bath now he stalks up to check on me. It's quite unnerving to be happy in your bubble bath and a squeaking thing appears, clambers onto the side of the bath an peers at you) Oh the glamour.

I am confident that the builder will put some doors on though soon as I know that "It'll be reet". Well at some point, hopefully this year even.

And here he is, in black and white, very reportage don't you think?. Best pop off now I hear the sound of approaching builders best make sure Coopers not trying to rob their breakfast bacon barms.Though his present obsession is the compost bin, don't ask I have no clue as to why. TTFN.x

Orange Blossom Girl

I have a slight obsession with smell. Not in a weird way (well I don't think so anyway). I remember at school having to write a piece about favourite smells and while most of my friends moaned and groaned about it I was secretly happy as anything. I could have gone on for pages and I can still remember what I wrote 9i won't bore you).

Recently an invite popped up on Facebook for 5 favourite smells and I of course faithfully filled it in. I thought later that perhaps my friends wouldn't be quite as rivetted by this information as I am but it was too late (apologies everyone).

Smells to me you see, are memories.They conjour back times past, sometimes good, sometimes bad.

Someone queried my choice of tomatoes as a favourite smell on my FB list and I duly explained why it had been selected.

The smell reminds me of my Uncle Arthur (not an Uncle by blood and before the Peter Kay fans amongst you ask, no he didn't once lend my dad an orbital sander). Uncle Arthur taught me how to plant tomatoes and tomato plants smell lovely.

Every year I plant tomato plants and I think of Uncle Arthur and sunshine and greenhouses and Uncle Charles (his brother, they lived together, sadly never married so sort of liked having me about).

After tomato planting we would always have tea in proper china cups (a big deal for a very little girl) being trusted with proper china cups with pink flowers and gold leaf on the handles and saucers and everything. Then of course there was shortbread, because that was Uncle Charles' favourite biscuit in the whole world.

So that's why I always have and always will love the smell of tomatoes, it's not an affectation, it's a memory. A lovely warm and cuddly one. Don't worry I won't go through them all but you can look them up if you really want to and if you want the backstory, well just ask.

Somebody asked me once what my signature scent was, every woman should have one apparently , a fact which had escaped me for most of my life.

Just one? , oh dear I will admit to being a perfume junkie with a rather vast array of fragrances (it was sort of approaching 50 when I did a recent consolidation - oops).Ranging from Chanel (No5, Crystal and Coco, oh yes and Chance) to the cheap and cheerful Lime , Vetiver and Mandarin (from Sainsburys actually and delicious).

But an actual signature scent?, er no. But perhaps she was right so the quest began, a while ago, (I'm not an especially decisive person- unless I'm being paid to be of course).

Then I remembered, the perfect place discovered a few years ago the world of Jo Malone, in the sparkly new Harvey Nichols (yes I know it's an utter betrayal of my roots etc) but it sort of amused me, being scruffy little me, wandering about amongst the footballers wife types.

Oh yes Jo Malone, truly lovely, a haven of wafty gorgeousness. Over the years I have experimented with sprays of every fragrance stocked. Heaven.

Two main fragrances always grabbed me. Orange Blossom being the first, Vintage Gardenia the second. There was an unexpected late entry Grapefruit which against all the odds I love. (I actually hate the taste of grapefruit passionately, its horrid and bitter and it stings your tongue, yuck.

Not in the running for a scent for me, not the real me, perfect for the world of work though to which it will be consigned).

Recently I was forced to make a final decision, with birthday and Christmas looming. So I did.

Orange Blossom. I guess the title of the post is kind of a giveaway.

The reason I loved orange blossom? Again its the memories it holds.

I love oranges, they're very happy fruits don't you think? They're round of course , a very pleasing shape I find and a bit squidgy and juicy. The colour orange always makes me smile too its a so what I'm loud and proud and no one is going to get me down sort of colour.

I recall orange lollies, all juicy and drip down your chinny, sundresses and daisychains and sticking out orange tongues. Then later came Sun lollies, the curiously pyramid shaped ones with no stick, revolutionary in their time a little bit daring and therefore very me.

I'll always remember eating oranges with my friend Sue, she always had oranges. She liked them lots and shared them with me, sitting on the window sill at school, long navy blue socked legs dangling over the radiators.

Sometimes we'd sit in the cloakrooms and eat oranges, those were the hiding away from the nasty girls days.Sometimes we'd sit on the grass outside under the tree at the edge of the playing field in the sun or sometimes even in the rain.

Sue liked oranges and in the start I liked oranges because she liked oranges. In the end though I liked oranges too. Very much.

I miss her, I've missed her for nearly twenty years now. I still think about her when I eat an orange and remember her smiling in the sun.

In Mallorca one of my most favourite Islands in the world unexpectedly I went to Soller on the rickety train which sort of just about clings to the side of the mountains. I remember the orange groves because Soller is the home of the loveliest of spanish oranges and the smell of them everywhere, drinking the freshest juice in the world sitting in the square. One day I want to live there, me and my scruffy dog (though she's not much on sun and she gets smellier when sweaty) with a garden full of orange trees (maybe a few lemons too , oh yes and some olives). What can I say , got to have a dream. I think Sue would have liked Soller too. I wish she'd been there to.

For me then oranges hold fond memories of special people and sunny days, so in the end the decision was easy. So Orange Blossom it was. It was still a surprise though, that it arrived on my birthday , nestling in its lovely creamy box with its big black bow, orangey loveliness from the second you open the bag (they spray that too).

So, here I am, in my happy orange blossom haze, dreaming of sunshine and smiles, the perfect signature scent for me I think.