Although my camera never lies it can act seriously inebriated…

Most florists will tell you what a nightmare it is managing to get pictures on jobs, I’m either juggling with urns, delicately wiring flowers for a model or running at breakneck speed between venues.

As for persuading the art director, a dishy groom or an erstwhile helper to get a few shots, it never happens.

So, in ode to a beautiful event at the weekend which resulted in a blurred urn and salty tearstains we’re in search of a really good camera with which I can work some fine photography moves and capture the darn delphs.

Not a vintage polaroid – have.
Not a low res digi – have.
Not a super blinkin 8 – have.

A high res capture the wasp winking in the sunlight sort. If you please.

xxx

Today is a day for sourcing bits and bobs, reflection and flowers for a funeral. Old dutch roses for a distinguished dame and lots and lots of cups of darjeeling tea.

Walk in to any trendy flower shop these days and you’ll find a shelf of cool crockery, old flower books and china floral figurines… sources of old school inspiration. I love the clatter of a teacup with a rose and this pic is perfectly friday.

xxx

When flowers aren’t in their plummage I’m sometimes asked to fake it which normally brings on a taste tantrum or a really wouldn’t you like something seasonal?

For a gappy church arrangement or a spring photo shoot in autumn they can be a flipping lifesaver, so I’m slowly building up a collection of film star flowers – hydrangeas, lupins, blossom and silk roses and all very ungrannylicious to boot.

Proof here that they don’t have to emanate the (squeal!) chintzy pot pouri silk rose vase that’s been sat in the guestroom gathering dust for years.

Girls, there are times when I know you’ll agree that faking it just isn’t on…

But then there are times when it works and amongst designer frocks, retro antiques and burlesque boudoirs these are pretty lovely I think.

xxx

Rainy days and wednesdays.

Wishing I had a better camera.

Not knowing what to wear.

The Flower market messing up orders. And and and, a bicycle puncture. Pff…it’s not always fun being a florist.

Still, there’s always music.

And a great recipe for jam from Jamie. xxx

Monday’s shopping list paves the way for window dressing and a gentlemens’ soiree, starring in no particular order…

Roses in this here lovely colour
Flowery fabrics
Agatha’s Thirteen Problems
Silver coffee pots
Bunting for a boat
1977 Le Mondes
Catnip for Madame Cholet
Trips to the Tailors
Barcelona blues
Tartan ribbons
Umbrellas for a chap
Goldfish bowls
Cushions for a cabin

As september rolls there’ll be candlelit weddings, the arrival of snowberries, the last few weeks of dahlias and mounds of autumn hydrangeas.

All in all it’s a good time to love flowers.

This is Tim and I’s absolute favourite time of year, the smell of autumn, new school tights, apple crumbles on the cover of Donna Hay, a vast pot of chicken stock and the imminent nesting for winter on the boat.

O donning his warm captain gear and me digging out my wellies, and it all starts on my I don’t have to run day… xxx

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

,

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.