It’s so funny how old fashioned flowers were so hip in the 50’s, Azalias and Bourgainvillia ruled in terms of chicness, Audrey posed and Cecil Beaton adored. Me I prefer the B in Greece and the A can stay put in granny florists…still Auds is doing them proud. Pin up of the week I reck.

This Gypsy was in big trub on the boat for failing to mention the Captain and O for a couple of days….so lets mention a few things.

Numero uno, a liking for flowers, foliage and all things floral thankfully rate high.

Number 2. A penchant for Jazz, cooking, moider mysteries of the Christie and Margaret Rutherford style are up there. As are football and seasons…(in the fixtures sense my dears).

Flower du choix – Blossom, music that get the paws tapping – Miss Dearie, favourite feline – Madame Cholet, occasionally Arnold… and sweetly being very old fashioned.

Then there’s Arsenal, Touraine, APC, Saltimboca, yellow socks, Noel coward, I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue, MOTD and tail tappin to Quem e Quem.

Just a few things…there’s lots more. xxx

These blooms are making me homesick. Wherever they are they remind me of summer, and my family home. Now France, it’s also where I spent most of my childhood…and many hours cooking with cream and Normandy cider, laughing, leafing through Cote Ouest, and dreaming with my lovely aunt Georgina.

Her cottage had pots and pots of them and they now conjure up ferry trips to Le Havre reading Agatha, lavender oil, my first Gitane (and last!), and late nights being introduced to the gravely tones of Bob Dylan.

Also a dab hand in the kitchen, cooking with flowers was never sniffed at, freezing fresh flowering herbs was a must and as a result geranium sorbets were delish. We now line cake tins with scented leaves for a simple scented sponge (remove before eating) and candied with rose water and sugar the flowers are heaven – even Arthur ‘n Martha lovers partake.

So I raise a glass of geranium leaf infused champagne to the G’s lemon scented leaves, France frolicks – (see you soon), aunts, Agatha and Bob. xxx

This week we’re dashing about in Mabel for fashion causes and choosing new Gypsy cards…what do you think? Too flowery, too feminine or perfectly Gypsy? Answers most definitely on a floral postcard please.

F is for flora, felines, fountains, fond farewells, falling in love, freedom, flower fairies in the garden, Fred Astaire, fritalia, ferns, frangipani, forget me nots, foie gras, flirting, Fun Boy three, France, frolicking, fabulous florists, fishnets, fairgrounds, Fela Kuti, fishing, flans, frisbees, flares, fromage, fair weather, Fontainebleu, fireworks, and for you…fare thee welling. xxx

I love a good umbrella but London rain is such a shame – soggy salal and sandals.

Ce weekend I’m shining it up with bows for Cho, Sunday surprises, picnics and pals, fellow florists birthdays and making gooey gooseberry and elderflower jam.

Watching peonies fade, training wysteria, Portobello’ing, Borough Market’ing and lovely lazy lie ins. I may even indulge in a film with a beautiful track and a super sad ending. Et tu?

This week between wedding meetings and shoots we’re being inspired by vintage wallpapers, brown paper parcel tags and old copies of The Queen.

Deliberating O’s Omelette friday, enjoying the Contance Spry cookbook, attempting an Andy Warhol jelly, spoiling Madame Cholet and giggling to Les fleurs of Minnie A friday song if there ever was. xxx

A meeting of two minds in London, sparkling glass, hot pink roses laced with jasmine – an effortless swoon in June and a fine romance.

Our Taylor Burtons swapped the South of France and the Ritz Carlton 1964 for SW3, sunny skies and an antique Porsche as their steed.

Peatini’s were supped, Jasmine wafted and this girl got to dance to a bit of Warwick, Bacharach and Ritchie with not a Dexy’s midnight runner in sight.

What the world needs now is…. xx

Swoon what a treat – I woke this morning to the most delicious email from a friend in LA with unseen unpublished Monroe images from the 1950’s. Did you know she adored gardening and loved flowers? A Gypsy icon to the last.

Said pal and I had tirelessly cased out the brentwood bunglow where she’d once lived, gawped at the self confessed greenfingers garden and dreamt of drinking peach ice tea with our heroine.

Twas not to be but rose bushes there were a plenty and this amorous apricot rose was named after her. Check out the naturel pics from Life magazine.

* Note to my dears, her actual fleurs du choix were white roses and delphiniums – a whole other post! xx

Bon amities…to losing leeks in hedges down the towpath, giggling in E&O at the sight of an opal, staring at friends baby bumps, finding my first delicious dash of blue bee delphs…

To sharing peach peonies with pals and giggling over homemade peppermint tea, to saving a mouse from the duke, battling with broad beans in the midday sun, enjoying sweet peas and twisting heavenly hydrangea garlands for my girls.

Here we are on this hot sunny waiting for a visit from fashion royalty, gardening till dusk, searching for derniere peonies, and hooplaa’ing for hydrangeas.

is for gardening, growing gooseberries, gardenia, great friends, graciousness, grilled fish, gretna green (at this rate), grand designs, georgina, general joviality, gershwin, geraniums, gorgeous headbands, gracelands (not the album), ganache, george formby, grumpy cats and go go dancing.