When in may I posted jauntily about how O and I had gone feverishly about trying to recreate The Good Life canalside I was hoping for a bigger crop.

Months of picking herbs, tomatoes, onions, courgettes, wild garlic and marrows in my twee basket was, fun. But my 3m sq plot of butternut squash resulted in a crop of one and the aubergine never surfaced. As for the leeks, they’re still flouncing their chive like trunks in the wind.

The french beans flourished but my red wellies fell in the canal…the rotting wooden handle fell off the large spade and the fox took to kipping in the marjoram. We knew it was never going to be a bed of roses but it wasn’t supposed to turn out quite so unfruitful.

After much discussion over a family lunch, (japanese onions, O’s desire for a dog and said squash were mentioned) my father in law elect went potato pink and spluttered theatrically “What’s happened to you all – Why are my children talking about gardening?” I have to admit he had a point.

Shamed by a sixty something who still sails the seas, talks at the Tate and likes to tread the boards in a cumabund or two. Self sufficiency suddenly feels blushingly uncool.

And my dancing shoes look rather dusty.

xxx

It takes a lot to get me off the boat but this just may do it. Our den is full of Warhol cats and with cripper creeping up – pop art whisker action is high on the list for godchildren. Can I go one step further and start the museum march?

Not sure how much illustration there’ll be, but sunday strollworthy.

Let’s agree to the option. x

After a bonfire night full of fab friends, hog roasts, howling hounds and warm red wine it’s a weekend of namings, boat plans, foraging for fine oil paintings, flim flam and takatooka for Gypsy Rose and listening up to a bit of good music.

Have a lovely one.

xxx

The music lesson when I was small was pretty much on a par with the winter run to the flower market. It filled me with dread. But as I get older I really regret not being able to get down Du Pre style and rock out with my cello…why didn’t I listen to my music teacher and his wagging drumstick of a finger?

We’re a pretty musical house, well when O’s on the decks or downloading some obscure jazz singer or I’m sqwarking over washing up, heck, I like to think that we are musical enough to compete with the cats meows…

So here’s the thing. This florist is looking for an instrument to learn, that won’t shred my hands like roses, soothes my foliage bashing fingers and fills all the gaps between grade 4 jallopy playing and an aspiring musician.

Answers on a plectrum xxx

Spread my wings…

Not a huge amount of blogging of late as I’ve been hunter gathering for our december project. Cue dusting down petticoats, tightening up the laces on hobnail boots and drowning in grosgrain ribbons and music papers.

All a bit Eliza but a lot of fun. more soon. xxx

It was all about chairs this week at Ardingly – the best antiques fair it runs every other month – great also for cornish pasties, bumping in to the likes of Anthropologie, a favourite Retrouvious and Mc Cully Crane.

I came home with several Mrs Tiggywinkle pails, giant glass Victorian sweet jars, crates and 1920’s bovril cups…all packed in to Mabel alongside Antlers horns and wonky shelving. It’s on in two months….go, you must.

xxx

My fetish for Agatha now has me in custody for murdering our Mac. This could also be aherm, cat food, oasis dust or just plain chubby Murder She Wrote type writing movements. However, until O rocks up on a white horse to pay bail…there’ll be not much key thumping or blogging. Well maybe a little bit…can you bear it?

Until then here’s the picture…a week of Ardingly with some lovely boys and Mabel heaving with junk and ‘antiqua’ down country lanes. Sourcing swans for our pop up shop, feeding Tims dog hip bones ( tsk bloody tsk) – a clinking glass drinks party and autumn plans.

More soon

xxx

There aren’t many today except to say that I’m taking a lot of tea breaks and rejoicing that tulips are back on the scene.

Loving Irving Penn and can not wait to see this show next spring but can’t work out who fares better, frauleins or flowers?

Tonight I’m planning a dinner with fellow florists to talk cool finds and camelias – but can I keep it low rent? With roses and rhubarb, probably not.

And a weekend ahead of dog god mother duties, having lovely O at home, machiato’s, marketing machinations, mews and mother in laws.

xxx

My trotters are cold…Boat Iife. I think we must have forgotton just how nippy it was this time last year, or maybe it was because I worked an 11 hour day outside that entering any indoor space would feel like St Tropez…but jeeps, now it’s October it’s getting really cold on the boat. Goodbye chilled wine, hello hot brews.

No more dashing about in frocks and bare feet making feasts to eat outside, this is the time we have layering competitons, shovel naughtie comfort food, stock up on mittens, whack the heating on for quarter of an hour stints (it’s run on diesel) and put the electric blanket on a romantic pillowtalking ten mins before dodo.

For these occasions I own more pairs of velour pantaloons than a girl with a smidgen of fashion style should admit to. You see me walking the croisette now do you? The glamour has gone…and will not be returning to the boat until late march.

All may not be lost I tell myself as I pour in to another knitted affair and arrange my winter hyacinths. There is a garment that has not yet entered the fray. I bid a fashionista sigh as I introduce the lovely cozy looking union suit.

‘A close-fitting, knitted undergarment combining shirt and drawers in one piece and often having a drop seat.’ They even come with feet.

I’m ordering a winter version of these in red and will let you know how the Hudson Day romance pans out…surely better than playing hopskotch across an icerink every morning?

xx

There’s something funny about limping into a studio full of gorgeous people.

Apart from the frocks and faces…you are carrying in the other prettiest things.

Flowers for Burberry, with hot autumn columbian roses adorning looked rather fab.

Then there are the thank you’s, Mabel and Hermione. An all star cast.

xxx