After a night of carnival yacht rock accompanied by rum on the towpath it’s most definitely a day for hiding aboard, doing wedding quotes and watching old films.

I was really sad to have missed the screenings of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort at the BFI but will curl up and watch it at home instead… there’s always one and this is the post where I wax lyrical about watching french films in a cloud of gitanes with a spot of Jacques Brel in the background.

It is one of those pretentious days. Now where’s my dainty cigarette holder…

xxx

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It’s carnival time in W11 and despite our portholes being tightly shut all I can hear is wind your body, wiggle your belly and cats pulling the same faces as Frida here.

This week saw me foraging for all things mexican for a gorgeous place in Notting Hill and sourcing Carrie style prom decorations for its sister The Cow. A visit to Columbia Road, the House Guadeloupe and frantic phone calls to the lovely Viva La Frida and I’m converted to colour.

Crazy Homies looks like an Aladins Cave and I love doing the interiors here, very kitch, rather religious on the tequila front, fairy light central and an oasis of fake flowers (sssh don’t tell me in the morning).

I’m getting some high res pics done for my styling book so won’t mess with your senses with my normal wobbly photography…but picture my hands ripped to shreds by staple guns, sea shell Virgin Mary shrines and hot pink picados.

After a week of very un-tammy styling and despite a white interiors fetish I’m leaning towards splashes of fluorescent…a Frida Kahlo shrine and rosary’s…maybe even a visit to a flower festival?

Currently drowning out drum ‘n something with Steely Dan but wishing you Happy carnivaling from our boat. xxx

A word child
Firstly my friends there are no flowers in this post – I feel wretched and apologise but sometimes I just don’t feel like talking petals.

Moving on, I have discovered two rare booky things this week, one is a pretty aesthetic thing the other requires me to look at pages of words and read.

So, Chapter 1
As you know I’m planning an orchard wedding at home in France but want to escape all the frufrulala ideas and still add a splash of fun.

We both love a good yarn and I rather like the idea of Chaucers and Christie’s on tables like below, (amongst obviously flowers made by me), but is it cheesy?

Would my Grandpa shudder at such defacing? Will the French Beatles tribute band and welly boot rule have put them off by then anyway? Hmm…Bingo, Ringo.

Chapter 2
A friend once told me the only way I’d get through to a wordy boyfriend was to dress up as book, it turned out she was probably right and with that particular Mills and Boon over I’m starting to love reading again, Monica Dickens rates highly as do any horticultural bits and bobs.

This is why the discovery that I can slip in and out of The London Library is super exciting…errr Agatha Christie? TS Elliot, Mrs M’s flower book and hundreds of classics all under one roof?

Free references to all the poisonous flowers I can find for a murder mystery whilst surrounded by highbrow moustaches?

Furtive fun for a friday to say the least. xxx

P.S

A mix of canals, canoes and camelias, the perfect recipe for London living? I’m often asked about it and yes it is lovely. But, I don’t want you all to think I ponce about in floral petticoats in a hedonistic mix of swans and sunflowers. That’s for sundays.

When I’m working it’s lovely lovely to wake up and see buckets of blooms in my workroom a beckoning from my cabin or crates of roses peering through portholes.

But the endless wheelbarrow heaving up the towpath can be, gosh, achesome.

Event flowers for Jamie on the roof of my boat looked stunning – yes locally grown (well Surrey), mais, in the pouring rain, a juggle.

A photo shoot with tissue blossom in spring rather fragile in the wind, and 200 posies for a fashion show frankly lovely but teetering with them in their cake boxes along cobbles, terrifying.

All these things have led to a lot of chitchat about shops, workrooms and studios – a lot of my friends have stores and equally they come with their own problems.

So, even if I have had to watch a a prized posie topple then float past – could I really decamp with my buckets?

Then there’s the blog where the boat has a starring role.

So all in all yes, flowers and boats are a funny combination but I can not lie living on this ship has changed my life.

I’ve fallen in love here, found my tom-boy feet and peace and petal time in the heart of London.

It’s a boat full of music, marigolds and mayhem oh and secret stashes of pearly floristry pins I can never find.

Not a typical Constance Spry set up admittedly.

We’ll see.

Alas my life isn’t one long Rex Harrison soundtrack and in preparation for boat parties a la Duran Duran we were feeling pretty 80’s last night, can you tell?

The Girl is mine
Stepping out
Angel eyes
Everywhere

This week I’m feeling very Tim Burton making carnival, circus and skull duggery props which tend not to be floral at all… can I resist the odd flower head? Doubtful.

As I get more in to flowers, fabrics and collecting vintage bits and bobs I think of my Grandma a lot. Amazing vase finds always bring a whiff of her home to me.

Her garden – a corridor full of hydrangeas, garden roses and asters welcomed and teatime with proper flowery teacups and an eccles cake warmed. Happy days.

Wonder what she’d make of my yen for glassware, a bristols cream sherry, how I like my cuppa yorkshire style, a daft collection of cakestands and being a florist now?

xxx

Weekends tend to be pretty sedate at our boat, newspapers, long breakfasts, a hopeful wander in the direction of the vegetable plot, bed, dinner and Jazz.

Other ingredients may have included:

1. Talk of barns, farms and france.
2. Hydrangeas to Highgate.
3. Marriage meetings in Mayfair.
4. Velvet jackets and velvet soup.
5. A mirrored guitar for the boat.
6. Discussing romance with Grandma.
7. Posies for a neighbour.
8. Sea Bream, Sardines and sillyness.
9. Pop up shops and popcicles.
10. Shotgun weddings and lavish lunches.

Rock and roll hey?
xxx

Flowers and breakfast are two of my favourite things and a nod from Dorset Cereals mini blog awards? Most definitely a full fat milk in my coffee moment.

So much so I’ve ignored dinner party flowers, a pail full of hydrangeas that need conditioning, a buttonhole and thirsty marigolds in my cutting garden.

This reminded me why I got Gypsy Rose writing in the first place. Having a beautiful site that I couldn’t update without pulling pony tails was driving me potty so spurred on by other friends fab ramblings, I got tapping away.

It’s an acquired taste I’m sure. Shoe lovers, fellow florists, flowers in your hair girls, culinary cats and interior princesses rate highly, but someone lovely likes it and if you do too, do vote. I may even get to move on their porridge range…

xxx

The rules…

1. Never ever use cellophane (unless you’ve mislaid your rain bonnet)
2. Choose your ribbon with generosity
3. Always write in blue with a fountain pen
4. Most definitely add your ingredients on parcel tags
5. Pearl pins only please
6. Go on ask them if they want a kiss
7. Don’t get so hung up on foliage
8. If you go make sure you do a Dexy’s midnight runner.
9. Steer clear of sequined butterflies
10. DON’T catch the bouquet

xxx

…you know who you are. x