Furry friend

Snap, crackle, pop- it's the sound of my autumn. Snapping back to reality- it's half way through term and apparently that essay isn't going to write itself. The crackle of jumping in dry leaf drifts, as my inner Fresher entertains herself on the walk to campus. And popping on the heating...because wearing a scarf and three pairs of socks to bed is never a good look.

But, in case you're wondering, here's a more stylish way to stay snug:

A few cold-banishing classics I'd like to be keeping me cosy with Autumn. There's a few dream pieces there that only a spot of lottery winning will allow, but my faux fur favourite is just about on the right side of affordable. So pop to the shops, crack out the debit card and snap it up while you can...

Don't be shy, step right up! Follow my blog and make my day, or leave me a comment and tell me what you're thinkin'...thank you!

Where to find 'em:
Shirt- Reiss
Jeans- Rag and Bone
Coat- Topshop
Boots
Bag
Earrings- All House of Harlow

Prince Charming’s got ‘em on speed dial- Pumpkin Weddings

Blog, interrupted. It's been brewing in the Drafts folder since July. I was banking on it marinating in a meltingly choice, sumptuous manner, although if it's been festering into litter-tray mush, apologies. But if it's got any idea of its content (my work experience with Pumpkin Weddings,. "The Fairy Godmothers of the venue industry!"), it'll be simmering over with rich, frothing swathes of flavoursome career goodness. Let's hope for the best because the Pumpkin team are, to use a more relevant analogy, magic.

 
 Time spent with the Pumpkin Weddings crew is a bargain investment- fish out a couple of working week, or a handful of loose days you've got lying around, and cash them in- you'll bag yourself beautiful venue visits, centrepiece/water-bowl/candelabra/ivy/crystal/favour/flower arranging, lunches a la M&S&LOL, chair cover races, cakes, brides, grooms, good tunes, great gossip and more Twix's than you should have, really, but go on then, if you're offering. They'll even throw in some post-venue vino and the offer of adoption, if you're still on the fence. Which you shouldn't be, because it's time for elevenses, hop down! Don't you want a HobNob?

 
Of course, there are those days when though the love shines bright, nature's having none of it...but no need to cloud over the celebrations- a flick of the Pumpkin wand takes this handy manor house from 0 to Organza in a few hours, earning "oooh!"'s, "aaah!"'s and "It's just how I wanted it!"'s as guests peek in at the windows. And let's be honest, when you can charm the crowd with cakes that creamily blossom and bloom, sparking up smiles and appetites with their vanilla glow, then who cares if it's tipping it down outside?

 

Thank you so much to Em, Paul and the team for having me- I know working with you over Christmas will be a cracker! xxx

Harrow, Goodbye

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
— A.A. Milne

Blustered and mingling whorls of heeled up, tanned up, tanked up shadows ebb and flow. Road to road, house to taxi, they lace the wet air with the evenings jokes, amplified by lambrini. Looking out from my attic window, I'm about to go out and be one of them, all sparkles and picture-posing and quid-each-to-Broad-Street-yeah?. I can't wait. But, after tonight, I'll have to wait. The year abroad is so near now I can smell the gelato on its breath; the thrill of change so close, its almost tangible. Glancing back at my old, and someone else's new, room, I remember how it's quietly held it's own this past year.

The blue tack blemishes, pin pockmarks: evidence that it, fleetingly, held up posters, treasured photos, cards, decorations- flimsy projections of a personality that worked, rested, played and shortly stayed in these four walls. Housemates joined me here for the lows and the highs:

There's the high-flying Landan Gal, with a faff here and a Gallo there, she'll make the headlines (literally).
Our forever-birthday Performer Princess is the fun and glamorous star of the show, and the boss of it, naturally.
The Fresher's Choice and all-round bloke's bloke (but don't forget, Cameron's HIS main man) is always there to supply logic, reason and advice, fuelled by Coco Shreddies and Pot Noodle (that is unless it's Forrest'O'Clock).
There's the Main Mod, whose media technology, music knowledge, love of Smiley Faces and upholding of personal style remain unsurpassed.
And who could forget Chef Celtic: he's your man for football, films, cooking up hilarious disaster out on the town, and always for a hug and a glass of Papa Murdie's finest.
Last but not least, honorary member Top Tough Cookie, which I now know is a soft cookie really: together we should make bipolar opposing mayhem, but instead, I'm glad to know that her brusque, stylish self is always on the end of that award-winning phone.

So I turn and teeter downstairs to join them all for a drink and a party, altogether, once more with feeling. See you soon 53, you'll be missed.

xxx

Chocolate Marble Cheesecake- patience is a virtue

So I had a balmy afternoon, a newly spangly-clean kitchen (thanks Shires) and the end of a terms loan dawdling in my debit card. What's a girl to do?

Each marbled segment a glistening portal to a peaceful 3 minutes or so- it was worth the wait, worth nearly buying blue food colouring instead of vanilla essence, worth actually waiting the proper time for it to chill instead of just shoving it in the bottom of the freezer. Cheesecake, an enigmatic delight: no matter how much double cream, creamy chocolate, sour cream and cream cheese you cream together and ladle onto butter biscuits, it inevitably results in fresh, soothing forkfuls, like clouds condensed. Oh goody, I can use my cake stand .... but why are there a pair of diamente grills and a stack of frat-party style cups living on it? Selly Oak, how I'll miss you...

Obsessacino to go, don’t hold the crazy foam

So I thought I’d post some of the choicest chat exerts from the library coffee machine queue, which is, quite unwittingly, capable of delivering not only high calibre people-watching, but the latest in close range eavesdropping entertainment.
It’s rather astonishing what people will let slip in public, when no-one around is visibly reacting, which doesn’t however -obviously, one would think- mean that they aren’t paying careful attention. You know how people sometimes say they feel alone in a crowd? Well, not in this one they won’t. If you’re daft enough to talk, we’re shameless enough to listen.
Today’s overheard Star Duo include Nameless Girl- we will call her Shelly, due to her uncanny impersonation of a mollusc, clasping- avid, tenacious and apparently for her very survival- to an inertly oblivious rock, from reference to which, by Nameless Girl, we know to be called Tim.
(Subtitles have been included for ease of translation from HormonalFresher to English).

Shelly: *beams, adhering to arm of Tim, continuing conversation prior to queue* “. . . so I think you’ve got a little admirer! But you know she’s basically a complete psycho” (translation: “Look at me, me, me, I’m attached to your arm so it looks to passers-by like we are togetherrrrrr.”)
Tim: “. . . . . . yeah.”

-pause-

Shelly: “So when did you and Cassie decide you were in love with each other? *giggle*” (trans: “I will not hesitate to stop the circulation in your arm , via intensified clinging, if you don’t dump her immediately and tell everyone that I am an ACTUAL GODDESS.”)
Tim: *long pause, mumble*

-pause, + intermittent smatterings of flirtation from Shelly (“ohmygosh, *giggle* why am I here, I should be doing some work” *giggle*)-

Shelly: “So are you and Cassie having sex?”

-pause, saturated with heated blushing from Tim-

Shelly: “So are you? *giggle*” (trans: “we could get married and I could wear pretty dresses and bake you cookies and we could have a dreamy house in SWI with labradors and a live-in nanny and Cassie has shattered the dream and taken it away WHY WHY WHY, YOU ARE A MALE! WHY DON’T YOU ADORE ME! OVERDOSE ME WITH AFFECTION!!!!”)

-pause-

Tim: “. . . . . yeah, so what do you thinks up with that?” *points at perfectly functional coffee machine*
Shelly: “Are you not, like, seeing other people?” (trans: “AAAAAAAAAARRRRRGRGRGGHHH”)
Tim: *unheard mumbling and glancing around*

-pause, + light vague conversation-

*Tim starts humming a tune to himself, occasionally quietly singing the words*
Shelly: “What are you singing?”
Tim: “The Mariah Carey song, ‘Obsessed with me’.”
Shelly: “Oh yeah” *hums along for a moment* [note: still hard to deduce whether blinding irony was intended, but comic regardless. other apt song lyrics to hum may include Dizzee Rascals’ ‘Some people think I’m bonkers, because I am’ or Bublѐ’s ‘Crazy little thing called Love-me-for-fucks-sake’, or ‘I’m so full of hormones, it’s a wonder they aren’t seeping from my pores and bringing inanimate objects around me to life’. Oh wait, not sure the last one has been written yet. oh yeah, and last but not least:]

Tim: “Shall I get Cassie a Coke?”
Shelly: “Why, to show her how much you LOVE HER?”

University Libraries: where increase in fun is directly proportional to decrease in dignity. Stay in school kids, this stuff’s better than TV.

Lemon Baked Cheesecake- lazing on a Brummie afternoon

Spanking new spring-release tin, dodgy oven, lime green borrowed bowl and recipe book littered with patchy daubs of cakemix gone by. An hour for me, myself, and Good Housekeeping. Labrador-on-walkies levels of contentment.

Rushing and intermingling of the many various little grains, course and fine, bleached, bright and broodingly dusky. Crack and slap of egg and curd, where’s the wooden spoon, don’t forget to get the bits round the sides. Humming and stirring, a distant radio, a clatter fades upstairs. I lean against the sink meditatively, spoon to bowl, bowl to hip, spilt corn flour a shadow on my jeans, and a carefully tuned ear confirms my suspicions. Its Hugo’s room the Mcfly is coming from.

¾’s of a Gossip Girl episode and 1 pensively savoured Milkybar later, and the oven is swelling with lemony warmth. A giant coin of golden cream, a speckling Demerara blush skims the depths of glowing pudding. The buttery biscuit base holds its own, despite me having boshed the digestives in a Tesco bag after the whisk did a runner. A proud fork prod confirms it: shareable. It even looks a bit like the picture.