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Yesterday... ugh

Today... ahh

Tomorrow...??

By Royal Appointment

When I was a child my grandmother and I would make marzipan fruits at Christmas. I think she had made them when she was a child because somehow she knew just how to dust the peaches with icing sugar to give them a soft peachy bloom and how the addition of a clove placed just so would transform a nondescript green blob into a perfect pear. Giggling and chatting, it was the most pleasant way to spend a long winter evening. When we had exhausted all the obvious fruits we'd move onto vegetables and once we'd exhausted all the prettiest vegetables we moved onto the not so pretty ones. Marzipan potato dusted in cocoa powder anyone? And of course we'd sneak in the occasional Playdoh one as well. Petits Fours Russian Roulette. When I was at college I put together a selection of the most appealing fruits in a small perspex box and took them off to Harrods Foodhall. They placed an order for 200 boxes on the spot. I roped the whole family in and the kitchen table was covered with hundreds of the miniature, rainbow coloured fruits. My dad drove me up to Knightsbridge the week before Christmas to deliver them. By the time we were back in Bromley, Harrods had been on the phone ordering 2000 boxes. I still remember the cheque arriving, smothered with royal crests and written in italic pen.
This afternoon the fires were lit, the dogs snoozed, Ed was watching a DVD, the rain lashed at the windows, I had a couple of packs of marzipan left-over from the Christmas cake...

How Did You Spend Your Weekend?

Mine was spent on location at Willesden Junction in the endless rain with 80 kids dressed as Hank Marvin for a TV ad.
Here's Charlotte, Ryan and Ed on day one - when we were all still smiling.

Madame

Look out for Capri, gracing The Front Cover of the May issue of Period Living Magazine.

Classic French Style shot at Lordship Park

Down-in-the-Dumps Dog

Whippets don't like the wet. Enzo is so miserable even the promise of 'massive savings on ice-cream' doesn't lift his mood. 

Come on boy, lets take you home and give you a new hair-do - that'll cheer you up.
Some hours later...

Hahaha... Conde Nast Brides Magazine were shooting here yesterday and they asked Stuart from Groom Dog City to bring along Molly, the cutest Bichon Frise, dyed pink for the occasion. Stuart was telling us that he uses completely safe and natural vegetable dyes that gradually wash out - apparently she was even brighter when he first did the colour last week. 

Top Gear

Well, it’s been a week and I can’t say I’ve really bonded with the new motor.

I’m still groping around for phantom keys in a non-existent lock to turn the stupid thing off and on reflection we probably shouldn’t have gone for the shiny black paintwork: fresh from the showroom, up Park Lane, once round Cagogan Square and into the underground NCP behind John Lewis - 2.7 miles on the clock and the guys that clean cars look up and call out “Car wash madam? Want your car washed?”

On Friday we had to deliver one of Brian’s paintings to a client in Norwich. Should have been a nice day out. They were taking us to lunch at Roger Hickman - all linen tablecloths and elegantly served nouvelle cuisine so I’d gone to a bit of effort – vintage cream satin shirt, black wool skirt, my favourite gold pendant from the 70s, short black boots, hair pinned up. After spending ten minutes in the rain trying to figure out how to arrange a modest size canvas and two whippets in the back while still being able to close the doors and the boot we set off - a damp disheveled mess. Brian drove - his first time in a manual for some time. After a jerky few miles, we made it as far as Walthamstow and he is muttering something about his loafers getting caught in the carpet. Next thing I know we jolt to a halt and a whippet is catapulted through from behind and lands on my lap laddering my tights. Enzo is still in the back, looking worried, peeking out from under an oil painting of a Norwich City shirt. Only 110 miles to go… We swapped drivers and B shares the passenger seat with both whippets - shedding hairs all over his black suit. Not quite the arrival I envisaged.

On the way back the dogs go rigid at the sight of the car, won’t get in and have to be dragged inside. 

At least the client was happy with her new purchase. 

Norwich City by Brian Ayling

Just Like In The Movies

I was looking for a parking space in Queen Elizabeth's Walk when a movement on the pavement caught my eye. Before I knew it a duck and a stream of eleven ducklings, scarcely any bigger than bumble bees crossed the road in front of me. I stopped right there in the middle of the road, rummaged for the mobile and frantically tried to open the car window. It was no good, they were moving fast, the ducklings like the tail of a kite, rippling in an articulated row behind their elegant mother. I'd have to jump out and follow them. I glanced in the rear-view mirror and a white van was a couple of inches from my back bumper. Shit. The geezer was getting out. I braced myself for a string of expletives. "Quick quick!" he shouted in an eastern European accent."I've seen this only in the cartoons! It's so sweet" and he pranced off with his iPhone, held at arms length, in the direction of the ducklings.