I have a new hobby

I scream in my car. A lot.

Several really good things happened yesterday. I found my will power again, I signed for my new flat in Teddington and I had a few lovely phone calls from some people who I miss enormously.

And I had a few mini-euphoric moments.

I quite seriously don't want anyone. Ever. Recently I've actually tried to be as amiable and pro-relationship as possible and it seriously just isn't me. It doesn't come naturally. So I'm going to stop. Someone told me I expect too much of men and am never going to find what I'm looking for. I think the point of that was to suggest I "lower my expectations", but in fact I'm just dropping out of the game. I just can't imagine ever wanting to share that much of myself with anyone, at best I think I'd just want someone to chaperone me around and stand there looking pretty, not contribute to the conversation and most certainly not expect anything in return.

So in three weeks time I'll be living in Teddington, near Hampton Court, and with my local on the River Thames.

You know what's odd? I've been in London all day having a lovely time and yet I'm in a foul mood all because I wrote a post-it note for myself saying "Look at ferries for isle of wight fest" and my dad crossed it out and wrote "you're coming on the boat with us". And I literally had an epic tantrum of five year old proportions. Because no I am NOT coming on the boat with them and there is a reason why I need to take the ferry. And I'm in an utterly foul mood because I'm fed up with people telling me and what I am and am not doing when there are quite clearly reasons as to why I do or don't do what I choose to do.

Anyway,

I'm off to bed some unsuspecting men and then never call.

PG Tips

One of you can be quite the arrogant twat these days. Which I despise, because I adore you. Smugness isn't cheeky or teasing, it's incredibly provocative and all you do is inspire me to say something biting and cut you down to size. Which I don't do, because I love you and I'd regret it. Oh and also, you're being completely played everyone else can see it except you. You deserve so much better so stop letting us all take advantage.

ffs

I actually want to scream.

Long live McQueen

Actually, I have all my McQueen pictures lined up ready to post on another tab, but to be perfectly honest I'm really not in the mood to wax lyrical over Lobster shoes and Jack The Ripper Fall 2009 (which was, having said that, epic).

The whole reason I felt inspired to write a post about him just now, days after the actual event, is because I read Tavi's blog. And it really irked me.

"It seems like I haven't stopped crying for days".

Admittedly the girl is thirteen and quite possibly a highly strung emotional wreck what with all the media attention she gets (and the girl has taken to wearing sunglasses indoors ala Wintour when front row at couture), but the number of posts from adults echoing her sentiments I find more than a little bit vulgar.

He was an absolute fashion genuis and one of the most inspiring, eclectic and inventive talents ever produced by our country, but to cry over it? I think that right has already been reserved by family and friends, and it makes me a little bit sick.

Tragic day for the fashion industry, but not personally for you. Get over it.

Oh Abbey Lee Kershaw, be my Valentine?

I'm going to steal her shade of hair colour and "bangs" when my hair is long enough. I think it's such a gorgeous soft dirty blonde, very natural and versatile and my hair's always too fair when it grows out so no roots showing either.

My mum wants a fur coat and they're all out of season so I'm trying to bag her one on ebay. I think she stopped listening after while and has now left me to it. So I went and bid on a chaise lounge for my new place when I get it.



And some gold wine goblets.

And a coal scuttle.

I can see a repeat of the festival wardrobe incident - I will be so poor after all this furniture looting that I won't be able to afford to move out at all and myself and my beautiful antique coal scuttle shall gather dust in the upstairs attic of my parent's house until they can no longer stand it and decide to sell their 42 year old daughter and her beautiful antique coal scuttle to a rich arab on ebay to teach her a lesson.

I don't even plan on having a fire place in my new flat.

London again today but I was actually too tired to do anything. Lagging.



This is me lagging but on another day at Stupid:am. I don't normally post pictures of myself looking shit. Thanks Kate.

The Secret Garden Party



Birthdays - Paris



Camden Crawl


Birthdays - Lake District


Isle of Wight Festival



Glastonbury (possibly)

These violent delights have violent ends

I've just finished reading an article about the Mitford sisters and if there's anything to make you feel hard done by for being brought up in such a superficial and technology-reliant age then this is it. These women are the epitomy of class, each and every one of them could be the heroine of a novel.

To give an example, one of the younger Mitfords became obsessed with Nazism despite being English and on the day that France and Britain declared war she shot herself in the head. The bullet remained lodged there and caused severe brain-damage after which her insane political beliefs transformed into devout religiousness. Hitler himself actually flew her to Switzerland for medical treatment.

Another sister disobeyed her aristocratic father and ran off to another country to work in a bar with her husband, another produced two famous Formula 1 racing drivers and another was the acclaimed novelist Nancy Mitford. Debo Mitford, the only remaining sister resided at Chatsworth House with her husband until his death in 1994 (I think). I just find her entire attitude towards life throughout the interview to be exemplary. These days we tend to either indulge in self-pity or self-esteem, where as I get the impression that herself and her sisters just "got on with it". In her own words she claims that death, money and sex just weren't talked about, so there was never any opportunity to wallow.

I'm going to try and find some more biographies on the Mitfords and learn a bit more about them. I'm just so insanely envious that in a time where women were supposedly suppressed by society it appears that they were actually far more proactive in directing the courses of their own lives and making their own decisions, however controversial.




I will DEFINITELY be dragging myself out of bed at 5am to make it to the next Angels Costumiers sale, apparently it was very much worth the angst. I always find the thought of having to wrestle other women and dig through box after box to find the real treasures a bit intimidating, the same way that Primark inflicts a feeling of cold dread, but it was definitely a mistake to convince myself that I would prefer the lay-in.



Oh speaking of avoiding the masses, I took a little trip to M&S this morning and literally had to step over rows and rows of teenage girls and single mums to get the entrance. Reason being they had all scooched into their sleeping bags and were setting up camp because apparently Peter Andre is signing autographs there in like another 12 hours. I actually nearly wet myself it really made my entire morning.

Looking forward to a potential trip to Laduree at Harrods soon. I'm fairly familiar with the store in Paris but what I didn't know is that they apparently catered for all the confectionary in Marie Antoinette, learn something new every day. I can't imagine that any other film has ever had a larger "cake budget".






Also read an article about Diane Von Furstenberg and how her success was only reignited during the 90's when girls started to visit vintage stores and dig out her old wrap dresses. She really is an incredible looking woman and her daughter in law is apparently the new face of the brand.



This picture is exactly how I want everything to be right now.