Category Archives: doodlings

doodlings, food

oh my love, my love, this can really be

Well, I feel like the weekend is already over, when really, I’m only halfway through – what a treat. Did you all enjoy The Wedding? WE DID. We celebrated with bunting, patriotism, a cardboard Kate and Wills (which proved handy for waving at passers-by later in the day), Pimms, fizz, bangers’n’mash, fish’n’chips, cupcakes’n’cookies, dancing to Julie Rogers, laughing about nun shoes, pointing at horrible hats, singing along to Jerusalem, praising the Queen for wearing buttercup yellow, cheering at Phillip for being a general loose canon, wolf-whistling at Pippa, crying at Spitfires, cooing at the bridesmaids and page-boys (and, of course, emitting the odd squeal when Becks came into shot). All in all, a day to remember. And now, for the anthem of the day and a snapshot or three. Enjoy.

Standard
doodlings

don’t waste your words, i don’t need anything from you

…i don’t care where you’ve been, or what you plan to do.

Easter Sunday what? Yeah, I’m working, you’re all bored of hearing that. But I’m not bothered because it’s Easter Sunday, in particular; I’m just bothered because it’s Sunday in general, the sun’s out, and everyone else I know is off. I’m so far removed from the religious side of Easter these days – ever since I left school, I suppose. Its meaning has just gradually diluted in time. And while I’m in no way perturbed by this, it does make me wonder what will happen to Easter in the future; how much further will that dilution go? If I ever have children, will I bother to impart on them the religious meaning of the holiday and proceed to explain why hot cross buns have a cross on them, or will I tell them it’s simply a celebration of Spring and a convenient time to regroup and be thankful? But if I go for the latter, I do run the risk of them coming home from school and saying Who’s this man who died and on the third day rose again, in accordance with the scriptures? (See, it’s all still ingrained in there, somewhere). Oh, Easter shmeaster. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it (which will be no time soon, don’t worry). For now though, The Stone Roses (as close to the Resurrection as I’ll be going) and a bit of chocolate egg…

Standard
doodlings, food

after you’ve had it (yeah, yeah) you’re in an awful fix

Holidays = fry-ups, daffodils, card-games, coffees, lazy lunches, a-film-a-day, milkshakes, trying to be creative, cooking, snacking, popcorn, cosycosycosy sleeps and the joy of waking to blue skies. (This time, I’m wearing Rokit vintage t-shirt, vintage leather jacket from eBay, Urban Outfitters satchel and necklaces, American Apparel corduroy circle skirt, and ASOS loafers. Cor, what a menagerie.)

Standard
doodlings, fashion, photography, shopping

lively up yourself and don’t be no drag

I must say, the new year has a tendency to make me feel nervous. I don’t mean about looking forward, but looking back. Nostalgia that powerful is nerve-inducing, don’t you think? Or maybe I’m misreading my feelings. Looking at my phone photos from the last year is one thing that inspires such nostalgia. I have always loved phone photos. When I was at university I used to ask all my friends to send me the photos they had taken on their phones; I always thought they captured the best moments and I was desperate not to lose those. They’re uncontrived, spontaneous, sometimes hilarious, sometimes sad, or even mundane; but I love that. If ever I worry that my memory might fail me, I look through my phone photos and get comfort from the fact that they can remind me of the trivial and everyday and unexpected things I’ve seen and the moments of laughter that I might otherwise have forgotten. It’s my therapy. So, here’s my 2010 in a selection of fabulous phone photos (oh, and apologies if this is the longest post, like ever)…

January: snow and records.


February: an emerging sunshine and trof.


March: the exceptionally blue skies must’ve made me feel pensive and arty. March was a busy one.





April and May: apparently I lost my spring-spark – this is all I’ve got.

June: shopping for that somerset thing and hoping we’d win.


July: oooh, a new photography app. And clouds and tights and recipes.


August: BIRTHDAY. MUSIC. PHIL SPECTOR.


September: buttons and berries. Strangeways, here we come.


October: after work drinks and my doodle of the boy. Amazing.

November: freezing cold football, new shoes, big hands, protests.


December: christmas trees, cold feet and tba.


New Years Eve: I went out by mistake. Here’s the only evidence I could find.

So, there you have it. Apologies for the massively self-indulgent post. Though I must say, there’s lots of weather going on in those. Something for everyone! As for 31st December, let’s just say I’m lucky to have come home with a phone at all. See you soon, folks! x

Standard
doodlings

once upon a time you dressed so fine

Well, hello! I can only apologise sincerely for my hugely long absence. I was poorly. As in, proper poorly! Just like when you were a kid. The loss of a week’s wages just before Christmas was not ideal. I spent over a week worrying about not being able to stand up to go shopping and about not having any money to spend even if I did manage to stand up. You get the gist.

Anyway, eventually I stood up and headed south. I had a very southern, snowy-pathed, boozy-foody Christmas. Lovely. I have just returned to the northwest and have been reunited with my laptop and passwords and things and thought I should pop by to say hello. Hope santa was kind to you all and that you’ve managed to finish off the turkey. Santa delivered me my very own flip-clock and I’m done with turkey for another year…

Standard
doodlings

everyone seems to know the score

The world cup final. Without England. Should be used to it by now, shouldn’t I? However, I’m allowed to wish things were different. Of course I’m still going to watch. I’m allowed to be bitter though, aren’t I? To soften the blow we have bought the ingredients to make mojitos. Yum. I will take a sip of my mojito every time there is a corner. And every time there’s a free kick or a goal kick or a throw in. And a foul. And a dive. And a whistle blown. Oh, and any goals! Or any hitting of the post or bar or any misses of a more spectacular variety. And if there’s a penalty, who knows what I’ll do. Basically, I’ll be drinking my mojito throughout. It’s the only hope I’ve got.

voguecocktails

Standard