Book News:
I'm happy to say that all my Kindle books are now available to be signed at Kindlegraph so the virtual world is really upon us indeed. Other good news this week is that I've been very pleased with my quarterly royalties from Amber Allure Press and Dreamspinner Press - so many thanks to the people who've purchased in the last three months. It's very much appreciated.
In terms of reviews this week, there's been a 4-star review of Martin and The Wolf, and another nice review of For One Night Only, both at Goodreads, so thank you, Meggie, for those. And, much to my astonishment, my blog has now received over 50,000 hits since first beginning, so a very big thank you to all visitors. I've hope you've enjoyed at least something of my semi-crazed meanderings ...
Meanwhile, The Gifting had in the end 692 entries in the recent Goodreads free giveaway competition, which was about 682 more than I was expecting. So thank you to everyone who took part and congratulations to the 5 winners, who will be receiving their prize in the very near future.
Here's the next few lines from The Gifting:
In the land of Gathandria, they have not been used to war.
Ah, but how all that will change, and rather sooner than they expect too ...
In the wonderful literary world of Vulpes Libris, we're all going on a well-earned 2-week break, but today's post will give you a few hints about what's in store when we're back.
This week's haiku is:
Leaves begin to fall
and a hint of autumn's chill
drifts across the grass.
Life News:
Sadly, my car is sick and when I took it to the garage on Friday, it didn't come back. Apparently, the coolant container has gone rather badly wrong - something to do with the temperature gauge attached to it - and they couldn't put a new one in until Monday, so I have been totally relying on K's car all weekend. Hmm, no change there then ... It's going to cost me about £260, they tell me, which isn't great but, hell, it could be a lot worse. Hey ho.
On Saturday, we spent a lovely day with Peter and Sue (hello!) at Hinton Ampner, which is fascinating and well worth a visit - although they really do need to improve the cafe - surely the bleakest National Trust cafe I've ever been to, sad to say. My advice - go anyway, admire the house and the man who last lived in it, and enjoy the gardens. They're magnificent. But take your own sandwiches ...
Today has been a catalogue of unexpected events. Our washing machine has broken so we've spent an interesting couple of hours hand-washing everything in the kitchen sink and the bath and then attempting to get it dry in the garden. Thank goodness it's been sunny. Ah, it takes me back to my holidays spent in my grandmother's house in Newcastle, you know - where's that mangle of hers when I need it?!?
And this afternoon we've been to tea at the vicar's house. Which was very enjoyable indeed until the lovely US lady with the marvellous voice decided that having a communal sing-song with her guitar for about an hour and a half was a good thing to do. And yes, of course I know it is but I just can't help it - I really do hate that sort of thing which makes me feel nothing less than edgy and totally frazzled. As if people are cutting pieces off my skin and flesh with a spoon, and not replacing them with anything. I was trapped at the far end of the table near the hedge and couldn't get away without it looking obvious so developed a no doubt desperate smile in case anyone looked my way. My dears, I was faintly hysterical by the time we left, but I don't think anyone noticed. Now I feel totally exhausted as if I've been route-marched across the Sahari without a flask of water or a map. Really, I just don't do sociable ... but the tea itself was lovely.
Finally, I must just say - and I'm probably swimming against a vast tide of fandom here - how utterly dreadful the current series of Torchwood is. The plot seems to be the same thing over and over again and we can't even begin to see how they can stretch this dull nonsense over 10 weeks. Lordy, 10 weeks! I'm told that Episode 5 is the first good one - which begs the question as to why they didn't start there - but in all honesty you can get everything you need to know from the first 30 seconds of it when they recap the last episodes, and the final 30 seconds when they tell you what will happen next week. It's really like a haiku story put into the framework of a saga, and desperately trying to find its way. Soon, I fear, all of us will lose the will to live entirely - which may well solve their problem of finding a solution to eternal life. Yawn. Ah well, another potentially good TV drama bites the dust.
Anne Brooke
ANNE BROOKE BOOKS: Independent writer of modern fiction
Showing posts with label tea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tea. Show all posts
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Teas and twins
Book News:
The Delaneys and Me has had a good week, with being back in the Amazon charts at No 56, though it's dropped a little now. At Goodreads, it also gained a 4-star review from Lily (thanks, Lily), and a 5-star review from Ken (thanks, Ken).
I've also finished editing The Prayer Seeker and have added an extract to its new webpage. I'm now going to get it professionally edited as usual and see what happens from there. As a result, that particular online journal has now been removed. In its place are The Bemused Gardener journals where the plot (ho ho) thickens as we struggle to identify our mystery tree ...
This week's meditations are:
Meditation 407
When finding an excuse
for abandoning God
foreigners and women
get the blame.
Odd how today
when things go wrong
our choice of scapegoat
is just the same.
Meditation 408
A passing impression
of burying the dead
he helped to kill
then a cloud of words,
a hint of evil
and the air is still.
This week's haiku is:
Beyond the dark clouds
of midnight and silent skies,
the stars still glimmer.
Life News:
We had great fun at Glyndebourne last night and thoroughly enjoyed our revisiting of The Rake's Progress - the black-and-white sepia scene was stunning, and Anne Trulove was very very good indeed. This time we had a proper tea first and then wandered round the garden for ideas during the long interval instead of eating then, but I must say that the tea was fabulous. They're using a new local tea company called Pure Fresh Tea and the choices were great. Lord K had Black Lavender (a palatable version of Earl Grey that even I liked) and I revelled in Golden Flowers (peppermint, chamomile and marigold) - will definitely be buying some of that in the very near future. Oh look, I've ordered already! Really, I have no control, but hey you knew that.
Thinking of our potential garden (see above), we've measured it more thoroughly today and it's 52' wide and 40' long, which is larger than we anticipated really, well gosh.
Anne Brooke
The Bemused Gardener
The Delaneys and Me has had a good week, with being back in the Amazon charts at No 56, though it's dropped a little now. At Goodreads, it also gained a 4-star review from Lily (thanks, Lily), and a 5-star review from Ken (thanks, Ken).
I've also finished editing The Prayer Seeker and have added an extract to its new webpage. I'm now going to get it professionally edited as usual and see what happens from there. As a result, that particular online journal has now been removed. In its place are The Bemused Gardener journals where the plot (ho ho) thickens as we struggle to identify our mystery tree ...
This week's meditations are:
Meditation 407
When finding an excuse
for abandoning God
foreigners and women
get the blame.
Odd how today
when things go wrong
our choice of scapegoat
is just the same.
Meditation 408
A passing impression
of burying the dead
he helped to kill
then a cloud of words,
a hint of evil
and the air is still.
This week's haiku is:
Beyond the dark clouds
of midnight and silent skies,
the stars still glimmer.
Life News:
We had great fun at Glyndebourne last night and thoroughly enjoyed our revisiting of The Rake's Progress - the black-and-white sepia scene was stunning, and Anne Trulove was very very good indeed. This time we had a proper tea first and then wandered round the garden for ideas during the long interval instead of eating then, but I must say that the tea was fabulous. They're using a new local tea company called Pure Fresh Tea and the choices were great. Lord K had Black Lavender (a palatable version of Earl Grey that even I liked) and I revelled in Golden Flowers (peppermint, chamomile and marigold) - will definitely be buying some of that in the very near future. Oh look, I've ordered already! Really, I have no control, but hey you knew that.
Thinking of our potential garden (see above), we've measured it more thoroughly today and it's 52' wide and 40' long, which is larger than we anticipated really, well gosh.
Anne Brooke
The Bemused Gardener
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tea habits, Star Trek, chat and visiting
Lord H was hugely pleased today at the discovery that three cups of tea a day is good for you, as advised on the BBC news site. I suggested it would be a good idea to up our intake then as we hardly drink tea at all. Ah, innocent wife! Lord H casually replied that he drank loads of tea at work anyway, so it wasn’t a problem. I think he was about to go on with some other remark but I was staring at him with such stunned surprise that he was forced into silence. In all the years I’ve known him, and in fifteen years of marriage, I’ve never realised he drank tea at any other time than on holiday. Aha, the truth is coming out now - obviously I just don’t understand him, you know …
Well, I am now enlightened and will have to add tea to my shopping list at the next available opportunity. However, Lord H says he doesn’t drink tea at home, as it’s for work. And holidays. Um, obviously. Marriage: the last great mystery indeed. The whole revelation and the fun we’ve had with it reminded us both of the episode in Star Trek TNG where Keiko O’Brien is mourning her supposedly dead husband, Miles, and watching DVD clips of his last few moments before he vanishes. She only realises the clips have been tampered with by evil aliens when she sees him drinking a cup of coffee even though he’s on duty after 7pm. Being his wife, she is convinced he never drinks coffee after 5pm as it keeps him awake at night so, on her say-so, the ship rushes back to where Miles was taken and eventually finds him alive and well, hurrah! The joke is that in the episode’s conclusion, we see Miles enjoying a well-earned coffee last thing at night and saying he always has a cup during his last half-hour of duty – under Keiko’s astonished gaze. So, if Lord H ever gets snatched by evil aliens, that may well be my way of foiling their evil plans, aha. Mind you, as I have now discovered the fifteen-year tea drinking secret in advance of such an event, the jury’s still out on whether I’ll rush to his rescue or not …
Anyway, today I’ve taken the afternoon off as time in lieu for my recent Saturday working. On my way home, I popped in to see Jane H to pick up some Nutrimetics products (I do love their soothing facial mask – it’s bliss) and have … um … a cup of tea. Well I have some catching-up to do after all. And lovely to see you, Jane. I then popped into see Gladys and restock her birdseed. She was drinking tea as well – so it appears the aliens have got everyone I know already. Hell, I may actually be the only person left to save the universe – Lord help it. Am I up to the task?...
While I ponder on how to save the universe, and inspired by Sharon, I’ve decided to look at another later section of Hallsfoot’s Battle so I have more of an idea as to what I'm aiming for. It's a plan anyway. Funny how books are all different, dammit. Like children. I imagine. And thanks for the tips, Sharon – very much appreciated.
Tonight I shall be glued to Lost in Austen on TV, but will have to video Who Do You Think You Are? David Suchet’s such a charmer – I can’t miss him.
Today’s nice things:
1. The amusement of tea and Star Trek
2. An afternoon off
3. Tea – again! – with Jane H
4. Doing something different with Hallsfoot.
5. TV.
Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Well, I am now enlightened and will have to add tea to my shopping list at the next available opportunity. However, Lord H says he doesn’t drink tea at home, as it’s for work. And holidays. Um, obviously. Marriage: the last great mystery indeed. The whole revelation and the fun we’ve had with it reminded us both of the episode in Star Trek TNG where Keiko O’Brien is mourning her supposedly dead husband, Miles, and watching DVD clips of his last few moments before he vanishes. She only realises the clips have been tampered with by evil aliens when she sees him drinking a cup of coffee even though he’s on duty after 7pm. Being his wife, she is convinced he never drinks coffee after 5pm as it keeps him awake at night so, on her say-so, the ship rushes back to where Miles was taken and eventually finds him alive and well, hurrah! The joke is that in the episode’s conclusion, we see Miles enjoying a well-earned coffee last thing at night and saying he always has a cup during his last half-hour of duty – under Keiko’s astonished gaze. So, if Lord H ever gets snatched by evil aliens, that may well be my way of foiling their evil plans, aha. Mind you, as I have now discovered the fifteen-year tea drinking secret in advance of such an event, the jury’s still out on whether I’ll rush to his rescue or not …
Anyway, today I’ve taken the afternoon off as time in lieu for my recent Saturday working. On my way home, I popped in to see Jane H to pick up some Nutrimetics products (I do love their soothing facial mask – it’s bliss) and have … um … a cup of tea. Well I have some catching-up to do after all. And lovely to see you, Jane. I then popped into see Gladys and restock her birdseed. She was drinking tea as well – so it appears the aliens have got everyone I know already. Hell, I may actually be the only person left to save the universe – Lord help it. Am I up to the task?...
While I ponder on how to save the universe, and inspired by Sharon, I’ve decided to look at another later section of Hallsfoot’s Battle so I have more of an idea as to what I'm aiming for. It's a plan anyway. Funny how books are all different, dammit. Like children. I imagine. And thanks for the tips, Sharon – very much appreciated.
Tonight I shall be glued to Lost in Austen on TV, but will have to video Who Do You Think You Are? David Suchet’s such a charmer – I can’t miss him.
Today’s nice things:
1. The amusement of tea and Star Trek
2. An afternoon off
3. Tea – again! – with Jane H
4. Doing something different with Hallsfoot.
5. TV.
Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Monday, December 17, 2007
The risk of boredom and some very nice teas
A busy morning today, rushing around dealing with 1001 emails, mainly from the Catering Office about the plethora of meetings I’ve arranged in January. I think I now have food and water for all of them but, frankly, it’s hard to say. If I don’t, I will have to get my apron on and whip up a last-minute meal for 10 a la Fanny Craddock. As you do.
I’ve also sent round a note about the upcoming Thorn in the Flesh launch in February to people at work who might like to come. One or two at least seem enthusiastic, so that’s quite comforting. Always good to know there might be more at the party than just me and Lord H. What a stalwart support that man is. Actually, I won’t send the invitations out till after Christmas, but I just wanted the date to be floating in people’s minds before 2008 social activities start being added to diaries over Christmas.
This lunchtime, I had my last reflexology session before the Big Holiday – bliss. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to book another appointment until the beginning of February, groan, so I will have to double my intake of calming pills just in order to survive, no doubt … Poor Emily (therapist) though – my feet were so cold during the session that she had to wrap them in little towel tents in order to keep one foot warm while she was working on the other. Just felt very much how they usually feel to me, I have to admit. Isn’t keeping my feet warm what Lord H’s back is for?...
This afternoon, my nose has been trumpeting like a runaway elephant. Ruth was on the phone to a softly-spoken student and could hardly hear anything on the line because of The Great Nose Problem – so I had to take my nose into the kitchen and beat it into submission before being allowed back into the office again. Hey ho – let’s hope this isn’t the first signs of the Christmas Cold – again ...
Back home, I discover that the wonderful Sarah Pracey from the Dr Stuart's teas PR firm has sent me a delightful package of teas, including a new one which is supposed to cure all ills. Gosh, huge thank yous, Sarah - that's really kind of you! I shall look forward to trying those which are new and revisiting those I love. It's got me into the Christmas spirit for sure.
Tonight, I’m minuting the Goldenford meeting. I’m hoping there aren’t too many notes (my dear Mozart …) as my brain is winding down for the end of the year and I fear any intellectual or complicated input might do for me entirely. As it were.
And I’m still in mourning for the sad loss of gorgeous Gethin from “Strictly Come Dancing” – he was sooooo good in that Argentine tango. The best dance of the evening for me. I feel next week’s final won’t have the shine it should have had now, sigh … Though “Cranford” certainly clicked all my Sunday Night TV buttons yesterday – I was in floods of tears, some sad and some joyful, virtually non-stop. Underneath this rhino-like exterior, I swear I have the heart of a squeezed-out sponge. Ho ho.
Finally, much to my relief, I have finished Susan Hill's The Risk of Darkness. Um, I was expecting so much of this as the previous two in the Serrailler series have been top-notch, but actually if you read this one you are severely at risk of boredom. Not that she writes badly - she most certainly doesn't (though it galls me to admit it, as I've never warmed to the woman and she has a NVQ Level 5 in Dismissiveness, at least in my few dealings with her ...). She's usually a wonderful writer, dammit. But the book itself is a disaster. It seems to consist of lots of scenarios from books which aren't this one, the murder/death count is laughably high (shades of "Midsomer Murders" ...!), the main character himself has the charm of a poisonous spider in a particular snippety mood (for God's sake, Simon, get over yourself already and, yes, you are a nasty piece of work in this book) and isn't really very interesting, and there are way way too many bit-part characters. The middle is also mind-boggingly dull. I was skipping desperately towards the end. Though it actually isn't an end - it just ... um ... stops. For goodness sake, what has Ms Hill been on?? And shouldn't the publisher have said something?? It's really put me off buying the next one in the series, I have to say. I can only hope that we get a different plotline in whatever will come after at least - these plotlines have lasted two books and need to be put firmly to bed. Now.
Today’s nice things:
1. Reflexology
2. Thinking about the Thorn launch
3. Teas!
Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers
I’ve also sent round a note about the upcoming Thorn in the Flesh launch in February to people at work who might like to come. One or two at least seem enthusiastic, so that’s quite comforting. Always good to know there might be more at the party than just me and Lord H. What a stalwart support that man is. Actually, I won’t send the invitations out till after Christmas, but I just wanted the date to be floating in people’s minds before 2008 social activities start being added to diaries over Christmas.
This lunchtime, I had my last reflexology session before the Big Holiday – bliss. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to book another appointment until the beginning of February, groan, so I will have to double my intake of calming pills just in order to survive, no doubt … Poor Emily (therapist) though – my feet were so cold during the session that she had to wrap them in little towel tents in order to keep one foot warm while she was working on the other. Just felt very much how they usually feel to me, I have to admit. Isn’t keeping my feet warm what Lord H’s back is for?...
This afternoon, my nose has been trumpeting like a runaway elephant. Ruth was on the phone to a softly-spoken student and could hardly hear anything on the line because of The Great Nose Problem – so I had to take my nose into the kitchen and beat it into submission before being allowed back into the office again. Hey ho – let’s hope this isn’t the first signs of the Christmas Cold – again ...
Back home, I discover that the wonderful Sarah Pracey from the Dr Stuart's teas PR firm has sent me a delightful package of teas, including a new one which is supposed to cure all ills. Gosh, huge thank yous, Sarah - that's really kind of you! I shall look forward to trying those which are new and revisiting those I love. It's got me into the Christmas spirit for sure.
Tonight, I’m minuting the Goldenford meeting. I’m hoping there aren’t too many notes (my dear Mozart …) as my brain is winding down for the end of the year and I fear any intellectual or complicated input might do for me entirely. As it were.
And I’m still in mourning for the sad loss of gorgeous Gethin from “Strictly Come Dancing” – he was sooooo good in that Argentine tango. The best dance of the evening for me. I feel next week’s final won’t have the shine it should have had now, sigh … Though “Cranford” certainly clicked all my Sunday Night TV buttons yesterday – I was in floods of tears, some sad and some joyful, virtually non-stop. Underneath this rhino-like exterior, I swear I have the heart of a squeezed-out sponge. Ho ho.
Finally, much to my relief, I have finished Susan Hill's The Risk of Darkness. Um, I was expecting so much of this as the previous two in the Serrailler series have been top-notch, but actually if you read this one you are severely at risk of boredom. Not that she writes badly - she most certainly doesn't (though it galls me to admit it, as I've never warmed to the woman and she has a NVQ Level 5 in Dismissiveness, at least in my few dealings with her ...). She's usually a wonderful writer, dammit. But the book itself is a disaster. It seems to consist of lots of scenarios from books which aren't this one, the murder/death count is laughably high (shades of "Midsomer Murders" ...!), the main character himself has the charm of a poisonous spider in a particular snippety mood (for God's sake, Simon, get over yourself already and, yes, you are a nasty piece of work in this book) and isn't really very interesting, and there are way way too many bit-part characters. The middle is also mind-boggingly dull. I was skipping desperately towards the end. Though it actually isn't an end - it just ... um ... stops. For goodness sake, what has Ms Hill been on?? And shouldn't the publisher have said something?? It's really put me off buying the next one in the series, I have to say. I can only hope that we get a different plotline in whatever will come after at least - these plotlines have lasted two books and need to be put firmly to bed. Now.
Today’s nice things:
1. Reflexology
2. Thinking about the Thorn launch
3. Teas!
Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Ascot
Lord H and I decided to end the year in style and get ourselves to Ascot for a day. We haven't been since the new grandstand was opened, and it certainly makes a hell of a difference. Ye gods, it's almost plush. And nice to be back at the horses once more - we don't seem to have been for a lifetime. Mind you, we're not the people the bookies want to see, as we don't spend more than four pounds a race and, besides, I always tend to go for the second favourite. Or maybe the pretty one. Ah choices, choices.
Mind you, we decided on a different system this year - which, for me, involved staring at the horses in the paddock as they stretched their fetlocks and also seeing (much more importantly) which owner had invited his cousins and sisters and aunts, thus showing a large amount of confidence in the outcome. Lord H's new system, on the other hand, consisted of working out which jockey had invited his girlfriend and was therefore hoping to impress her, with a consequently higher likelihood of a victory bonk later on. Results: two winners for me; one for Lord H. Which just goes to show that family triumphs over sex every time. Sad to say ...
We also attempted to circumnavigate the utterly peculiar arrangements for ordering afternoon tea in the new facilities. The waitresses were adept at lying and blaming the management, but not so hot on bringing us scones and jam. So we failed. Gloom indeed. Which just goes to show the power and speed of communication of the UK waitressing network: I'm sure that if I hadn't fought with yesterday's waitress over my clotted cream allowance, we would have been fine for tea today. I see that I will never be able to eat out in public again.
By the time we left - the last race being at 3.35pm - the torrential rain was making the car park (aka a field) into a veritable mire. Lucky we'd brought my Fiesta (called Rupert, by the way) and not Lord H's car - with a little care and only one moment of panic we managed to reach the tarmac unscathed. Though I have to admit that when the large car in front of us did get stuck, I fought a brief battle with my sense of civic duty and ... um ... lost, instead manoeuvring round it and abandoning it to its fate. Yes, I know - I'm an appalling person. But I wasn't the only one. And it was raining. Excuses, excuses, eh? ... The next time I break down in traffic, you have every right to drive past me sneering. I probably deserve it.
Tonight, I'm doing sod all. And proud of it. And we're having a Chinese takeaway from Waitrose - hurrah!
Today's nice things:
1. Ascot
2. Winning
3. Chinese food.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Mind you, we decided on a different system this year - which, for me, involved staring at the horses in the paddock as they stretched their fetlocks and also seeing (much more importantly) which owner had invited his cousins and sisters and aunts, thus showing a large amount of confidence in the outcome. Lord H's new system, on the other hand, consisted of working out which jockey had invited his girlfriend and was therefore hoping to impress her, with a consequently higher likelihood of a victory bonk later on. Results: two winners for me; one for Lord H. Which just goes to show that family triumphs over sex every time. Sad to say ...
We also attempted to circumnavigate the utterly peculiar arrangements for ordering afternoon tea in the new facilities. The waitresses were adept at lying and blaming the management, but not so hot on bringing us scones and jam. So we failed. Gloom indeed. Which just goes to show the power and speed of communication of the UK waitressing network: I'm sure that if I hadn't fought with yesterday's waitress over my clotted cream allowance, we would have been fine for tea today. I see that I will never be able to eat out in public again.
By the time we left - the last race being at 3.35pm - the torrential rain was making the car park (aka a field) into a veritable mire. Lucky we'd brought my Fiesta (called Rupert, by the way) and not Lord H's car - with a little care and only one moment of panic we managed to reach the tarmac unscathed. Though I have to admit that when the large car in front of us did get stuck, I fought a brief battle with my sense of civic duty and ... um ... lost, instead manoeuvring round it and abandoning it to its fate. Yes, I know - I'm an appalling person. But I wasn't the only one. And it was raining. Excuses, excuses, eh? ... The next time I break down in traffic, you have every right to drive past me sneering. I probably deserve it.
Tonight, I'm doing sod all. And proud of it. And we're having a Chinese takeaway from Waitrose - hurrah!
Today's nice things:
1. Ascot
2. Winning
3. Chinese food.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Friday, December 29, 2006
Velasquez and clotted cream
Yes, the ideal combination. Lord H and I were up at the crack of dawn today in order to get to London on the 9.20 train. I factored in huge amounts of time to drive to Woking during the rush hour, but the rush hour appeared to be inoperative (hey, is nobody at all at work this week? What is the country coming to ...?) and we arrived at the station at 8.55. The car park was virtually empty too - and is now charging a massive £8.30 to park all day. Ye gods, for that price, I'd expect to own the bloody car park. And have it lined with Daniel Craig look-alikes too. Naked ones. Thank goodness the machine accepts credit cards and Lord H was feeling noble. Talking of noble, I lightheartedly waved my railcard at Lord H and said I'd pay for the train. Forgetting of course that the card doesn't work till after 10am, so I had to pay £40 for travel cards for the both of us. £40!! I ask you ... And people wonder why I won't work in London.
Lord H had decided to make the most of the train journey to package his theology essay & questionnaires into the appropriate envelopes (proofread and printed off late last night - Good Wife points all round ...) - so as soon as he sat down, he unbuttoned his coat, scrabbled at chest level inside his jumper and produced a paperclip. Then he did it again. And I'd been wondering what men's nipples were for. Now I know ... When I voiced this in my usual dulcet (not) tones, his response was that I should wait to see where he'd stored the rubber bands. At which point, the tannoy announcement asked us to let the train staff know if we saw anything suspicious and the family the other side of the aisle moved seats.
Which brings me to the National Gallery Velasquez exhibition. Wonderful. I can highly recommend it. Best of all, there are only four rooms so you don't have to have art (oh Lord, where's the chocolate, please give it to me now) overload syndrome. And there's a free micro-booklet which tells you just enough about each picture to keep your interest. Bliss. My favourites? - rather surprisingly, the portraits of men at court whom Velasquez knew. Very realistic and humane stuff. Moving too. Lord H's favourite? - the Rokeby Venus (the naked lady with her back to us and gazing in the mirror). Need you ask? However, Lord H did comment that her bottom was in sharp focus but the rest of her was very soft and almost impressionistic. He was right too - the photographer's eye, eh? Not, of course, the half-hour he spent staring at it and salivating ... So the good Velasquez is a bottom man. You heard it here first.
Post-art, we dropped into Fortnum & Mason to (a) check out the sales - rather like an art gallery but with food instead of paint - and (b) have a snack - which turned out to be tea & scones, replete with clotted cream buckets x2. Heaven. As always, and in true Essex Girl fashion, I'd saved a large teaspoon of cream and jam in the buckets to lap up sans scone at the end. But the moment I'd got rid of the bun, the waitress made a foolhardy attempt to whisk my plate away. I fought bravely to retain my clotted cream orgasm rights and, after a brief tussle, I won. Lord H said the look on my face as my plate was almost removed was Munch-like in its expression of raw terror. Hell, I got the cream though. Ha!
And so, home. Tonight, I need to make a token cleaning gesture and then slump in front of the TV again. Hey, it's good to have an exercise plan.
Today's nice things:
1. Velasquez
2. Clotted cream
3. An evening in.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Lord H had decided to make the most of the train journey to package his theology essay & questionnaires into the appropriate envelopes (proofread and printed off late last night - Good Wife points all round ...) - so as soon as he sat down, he unbuttoned his coat, scrabbled at chest level inside his jumper and produced a paperclip. Then he did it again. And I'd been wondering what men's nipples were for. Now I know ... When I voiced this in my usual dulcet (not) tones, his response was that I should wait to see where he'd stored the rubber bands. At which point, the tannoy announcement asked us to let the train staff know if we saw anything suspicious and the family the other side of the aisle moved seats.
Which brings me to the National Gallery Velasquez exhibition. Wonderful. I can highly recommend it. Best of all, there are only four rooms so you don't have to have art (oh Lord, where's the chocolate, please give it to me now) overload syndrome. And there's a free micro-booklet which tells you just enough about each picture to keep your interest. Bliss. My favourites? - rather surprisingly, the portraits of men at court whom Velasquez knew. Very realistic and humane stuff. Moving too. Lord H's favourite? - the Rokeby Venus (the naked lady with her back to us and gazing in the mirror). Need you ask? However, Lord H did comment that her bottom was in sharp focus but the rest of her was very soft and almost impressionistic. He was right too - the photographer's eye, eh? Not, of course, the half-hour he spent staring at it and salivating ... So the good Velasquez is a bottom man. You heard it here first.
Post-art, we dropped into Fortnum & Mason to (a) check out the sales - rather like an art gallery but with food instead of paint - and (b) have a snack - which turned out to be tea & scones, replete with clotted cream buckets x2. Heaven. As always, and in true Essex Girl fashion, I'd saved a large teaspoon of cream and jam in the buckets to lap up sans scone at the end. But the moment I'd got rid of the bun, the waitress made a foolhardy attempt to whisk my plate away. I fought bravely to retain my clotted cream orgasm rights and, after a brief tussle, I won. Lord H said the look on my face as my plate was almost removed was Munch-like in its expression of raw terror. Hell, I got the cream though. Ha!
And so, home. Tonight, I need to make a token cleaning gesture and then slump in front of the TV again. Hey, it's good to have an exercise plan.
Today's nice things:
1. Velasquez
2. Clotted cream
3. An evening in.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
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