Vanilla Lily

Not so much a list as a happy realisation really.

Work has been bonkers and will continue in that vain for a good few weeks to come but my brain has seized totally today so I have decided to give myself to the rest of the day off.

Wanting a treat, wanting to do something productive, wanting to avoid looking at the pooter screen for an hour or two – and in the absence of nice mindless drama on the tele – I did what I generally do in such circumstances and decided to bake a cake (vanilla-almond sponge with pears, thanks for asking).

I just opened the oven door to check progress and as the warm-sponge scented steam wrapped itself around me like a vaporous hug I suddenly realised that the smell reminds me – totally and wonderfully and forever – of my Marmar.

And that makes me very happy indeed.

The new Toast summer supplement arrived yesterday – even more temptation, as if it were needed. I really want these trousers in grey – I treated myself to a pair in the indigo colourway recently and they formed the mainstay of my holiday wardrobe… super comfy and, I like to think, treading that (so fine I usually miss it by miles) smartish-comfy-casual line. So obviously I need another pair in grey (is purchasing pebble grey troos the definition of summer madness?)

I also love this pale madras skirt, which looks as though it would hang beautifully but look desperate against my resolutely pasty British legs. This bright stripy skirt might be a better bet – so summery!

Not remotely summery but totally covetable are the welsh blankets in their home section. Absolutely gorgeous. Now lets think, where could I store those then…?

Someone, somewhere, very near by, is cooking bacon. Mmmmmmmmmmmh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacon! It smells SO good my mouth is actually watering. Literally. I’m dribbling here.

It really isn’t fair. There should be laws – no cooking bacon when Mali is trying to loose the lard. Or toast, come to that; ’specially if spread with peanut butter or Marmite…

If the smell doesn’t clear soon I may have to grill and eat my own feet (needless to say, the apple on my desk is no more appealing than the desk itself as a potential nibble just now). Alternatively I suppose I could maybe close the window…

My poor little replica Robin Day chair hidden beneath a mountain of grubby denim. Defo time for a jeans wash! Aren’t the blues pretty though?

Yes, that is no fewer than five varieties of German sausage.
He knows him so well.

Ginger declared it ‘Possibly the best birthday present ever’. Duly noted; Christmas just got a whole lot cheaper!

I’ve been playing about with my hair recently. Today I’m toying with the idea of wearing the frou-frou hair ornaments that usually languish on my dressing table waiting for the next wedding. I’m thinking that if there is anywhere in the country where its OK to pop to Costcutter for a pint wearing such a thing, Shoreditch is that place. Lucky me!

Whaddaya think?