Beards and other things less hairy (although a little hair-raising)

 

Have beards suddenly come back into fashion among smart young men? I saw some incredibly attractive specimens while travelling around London town today - beautifully groomed they were too - no shabby fuzz balls or harbourers of crumbs and bird nests. Nor were they masquerading as full facial hair under the guise of a bit of a stubble. No, these were class hirsute young men, carrying their accessory with aplomb. I wish I had the balls to photograph a few - I should have pretended I was a model scout or something...

It was a strange day for people watching to be honest. There seemed to be a staggering quantity of people who looked or sounded 'familiar'. Faces that rang bells somewhere deep in my subconscious but for whose names I just couldn't pull out. Then I popped my head in the National Gallery and could have sworn this chap smirked at me... We definitely made eye contact...

Perhaps he was trying to tell me why he had shaved his beard off!

Later...

As a respectable writer, I thought some research might be called for. It turns out that I am about 12 months behind the times - beards are "so 2013 darling". In my defence, I do live in the boondocks where it takes a year or too for any trend to catch on, unless it's a new type of tracksuit of course...

Christmas lights

Christmas tree lights, Covent Garden

I always love a trip to London - the City, my former home, that helps to recharge my soul batteries. I soak up a spot of history, quench my inspirational thirst and revel in nostalgia for a well-spent youth. I always take away something special from a tramp of these streets, negotiating public transport and dodging tourists. I feel good.... grounded.... back on home turf.

London just oozes with history and creativity - with evidence on almost every corner. I could't help but smile with delight when I happened upon a blue plaque informing me that I was standing before the very place where Rosetti, Millais and Hunt formed the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, then later spotted this one of another of my heros. (I was also thrilled by finding this picture on the wiki page I linked to on blue plaques - serendipity indeed!). This was once my City too where magic happens and I feel forever a part of it.

I was in London for a party last night, but there was plenty of time for some shopping and exploration during daylight hours...

If you put the word 'Enchanted' in any exhibition title you're sure to grab my attention. Add 'Palace' and you're onto a sure-fire winner. What better way to pass an hour or so than wrapping oneself in the magic of Kensington Palace where fashion, performance and dreamlike installations told tales of Palace Princesses set against the backdrop of the gilded decor.

I learned that money and power most certainly doesn't buy happiness; but at least you get to indulge in your eccentricities.

Thank you to Amelia for her recommendation!

I returned home this morning with the music and spectacle of last night's party still powering through my senses (though fortunately, a sensible consumption of French fizz, did at least mean that any alcoholic hangover was gratefully not present!). As a special treat I even got to stay overnight, so I could fully immerse myself in the Cafe de Paris experience without worrying about catching trains. And, while I didn't exactly follow in Monique's* footsteps with regard to dancing barefoot through puddles and seducing handsome Frenchmen (it being much too cold for the former and I have no need for the latter), I did dance until the wee small hours!

(*See yesterday's post!)

Photos (other than the top one) taken at The Enchanted Palace Exhibition at Kensington Palace.

Sharing with Sweet Saturdays.

Monique's party

It's past midnight, but the London party is in full swing. Outside, Soho streams with rain that blurs the lights and lanterns of Chinatown and drenches the crowds leaving the theatres with showtunes ringing in their ears.

Monique is giddy with champagne and music cocktails. Her feet throb so she slips off her Jimmy Choos and, swinging them through the air, splashes through the puddles of Leicester Square giggling as she recalls the handsome Frenchman with whom she has been flirting in the elegant Cafe de Paris.

She twirls through the night andthe other revellers smile and soak up her joy. Round and round she goes until the neon blurs until suddenly she stops... Looking back over her shoulder she spies Gilles. He has come looking for her. She takes his hand and then falls into the light of his eyes...

***

A painting inspired by my upcoming Christmas Party at Cafe de Paris! Look very carefully at the background... what do you see?

For Paint Party Friday and Inspiration Avenue's Festive theme.

The photo doesn't really do the colours justice. I might take another again in daylight tomorrow.

Ghostly haunts

If ghosts exist, do you think they might be more inclined to haunt historical buildings? Visiting the Tower of London this weekend, with a thousand years of drama, turmoil, torture and the odd beheading or two; it certainly seemed the most likely place to spot one - especially the day before Halloween!

We heard grisly tales of the poor unfortunates who spent years locked inside its forbidding walls, with seemingly nothing better to do than carve Tudor graffitti into the soft walls that remains to this day. The Ravens regarded us with quizzical eye - these hoardes of marauding tourists gawping and staring. I think that if anyone knows where the ghosts hang out, it's these noble creatures.

So, today I was at work and, as befits someone of my stature and reputation, it seemed only right that I dress in appropriate work attire...

Joining in with Natasha May's Halloween party here.

The magic of London

It doesn't take much to coax me down to London so when the invitation came to spend some time with one of my online Art teachers - Amelia Critchlow - and some fellow students who was I to say no! We spent the afternoon talking art, blogging and families. We had great fun with a creative photography exercise - taking 36 magic-themed photographs in 36 minutes... Then we chatted some more, reviewed each other's masterpieces, drank more coffee and ate cake.

Now at home I'm drinking wine and playing in PhotoShop. All in all a rather good day and just the tonic I needed to 'fill my well'.

I'll shut up now and let me photos do the talking!! After the first one there's not many that actually say 'London' to you - not a red bus in sight! They were all taken around The South Bank, then mixed up with a few textures and filters.

There's more on flickr - I've gone a bit mad!

An anthropological dig

I do so love words. I'm playing in the title (not making spelling mistakes). You'll see...

Now, in my blog ramblings I have come across what seemed to be something of an American love affair with a store called Anthropologie (couldn't they have picked something easier to spell?). Writers and artists like Kelly Rae and 52 Flea had me hooked with their words and delightful imagery of vintage/indie/boho/hippy chic. What was this wonderful shop and, more importantly, where could I find one?

Well it turns out that lady luck was smiling upon a happy shopper and she had waved her fairy wand and, hey presto, the first UK store was now open for business in London. Where did I go today dear readers? Well, our nation's capital of course. I was there for an exciting business meeting (hello Mark!), but managed to engineer an early enough arrival to warrant a small detour to Regent Street. (Sometimes these things just have to be done!)

If Pandora was a shop it would certainly be called Anthropologie (I can't type this too many times, may need to abbreviate soon). Wooden floors, beautiful assistants who write your name on your fitting room door and clothes, clothes, clothes, jewellery, sparkling things for the home, bits of old picture frame hanging off reclaimed timber tables, patchwork quilts that want to wrap you in motherly cuddles, dainties, pretties, sweet and fruity smells wafting from the furnishings, plants growing out of the wall, nick nacks, trinkets, silks and satins... Do you think I liked it? Readers it was wonderful, heavenly, a sensory delight.... Note past tense and use of italics....

I am sorry to say my love affair came to an abrupt and sorry end almost as soon as it had begun. At first I thought I had to be mistaken - surely this was a one off or mistake? But the more I turned and peered closely, the more my illusions were shattered. Every label revealed the same horrifying truth. The PRICE!!!!

No wonder they can afford a Regent Street three floor prime location. I envy those whose income is substantial enough not to flinch at paying what appears to be a 90% mark up on most items. The label 'made in India' fixed to most items give a clue. A feel of the fabric and close examination of seams and general quality reads further volumes. Anthropologie, your products are incredibly beautiful and desirable, the shopping experience is magical and I could quite happily live in your stunning store, going to bed every evening wrapped in your sumptuous quilts and bathing in your enticing aromas... but your prices???? I'm too disappointed for further words...

But I will try...

In my bag was a small purse (made in India) I recently purchased from a market trader for £1. An almost identical item was selling here for £18. Knitted toys which can be spotted at church fetes for £1.50 (or knitted by Nanas for nothing) cost an astonishing £20. A single 'vintage' playing card which had been placed in a plastic sleeve - £4; a t-shirt £44; an A5 notebook £22; a cardigan (that was already starting to unravel) £148; a chandelier made from unfired clay beads £1,200.

Beautiful as these items were, you can pick them up elsewhere (notably Etsy, or indeed Mumbai) for a fraction of the cost. Frankly I'd rather not be ripped off and shop in a store where the previous occupant of the fitting room had written their own name in graffiti on the wall than pay over the odds for Penny to write my name for me!

I'm taking my disillusionment and disappointment for a browse on Etsy instead...

Tootle pip.

Myth and Magic

I spent an hour today with foolish knights, devious and sensual seductresses, bewitching mermaids and tragic heroines. I was swept into a rapture of brilliant hues and textures, brush strokes, passion and colourful emotionalism.

I visited the J. W. Waterhouse - modern Pre-Raphaelite exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts. I stood in front of priceless treasures completely enraptured and bowled over by what one man, a paintbrush and a few tubes of paint managed to convey.

With my nose just a mere inch away from the canvas I soaked up the inspiration flowing down the river with the Lady of Shallot; shining scales of mermaids sent glimmers of ideas into my heart, captivated as I was by her sweet song and light brush strokes; and magic floated from castles and battlements, hanging in the air like fairy dust.

I fear I cannot do justice what it felt like to be among such paintings. Similarly, the colours in reproductions do little to capture the iridescence of the real thing. I have become fascinated by the Pre-Raphaelite style as of late - the beauty of nature is such an inspiration.

I created this piece last weekend which I've called 'Back to Nature'. It doesn't really sit too comfortably alongside the masters but allows me at least a very tiny moment of solidarity with the Victorian rebels. How I wish I had studied the History of Art at University. I was so close to choosing that path. My mind is full of questions and craves deeper understanding. Aside from being stunning works of art, each piece tells a story, many on the theme of man falling bewitched by woman. What secrets and stories lie behind these paintings? My artist date proved somewhat expensive as I purchased a book from which to learn more and soak up inspiration.

Mixed media - collage, acrylic, oil pastel, mica and a dash of inspiration

No pigeon was safe...

We invaded the City my young Knight and I to continue our adventurous quest. Some kind of magic had been performed when the Moon shone; for the morning dawned shiny bright and crisp with the spirit of exploration.

We transported through an incredible time machine to tread the same earth as mighty dinosaurs, curious mammals and ginormous birdies. Well, actually we caught the 0948 to London Euston and then a couple of tube stops later arrived at the Natural History Museum!

Them dinosaur bones sure are big and a bit scary-looking - especially to a five-year-old... and was Mummy quite sure that the animatronics weren't real..? 'Cause those teeth looked mighty sharp and those eyes seriously beady!

Great fun charging around a Museum with a young escort and then the day's fun just kept on coming as I took him on a whistle-stop tour of my favourite city. Best bit for probably both of us was him discovering just how fun it is to chase pigeons (or chippins as he kept calling them!) - especially when they have been so foolish enough as to gather in a flock in the middle of a nice bit of grass.

Taking time to see life through a child's eyes is such powerful therapy. Their speed at digesting all they take in seems somehow to assist in your own slowing which is rather a contradiction! Away from the stresses of work and the continual battle to keep the house clean and tidy and manage the 'to do' list, it seems we finally allow ourselves a little moment to just stop and watch and smile.

Monday's relaxation had helped pave the way to allowing this stepping back off the treadmill.

Today, however, threatens a return as I drift around the house attempting to achieve everything while not accomplishing much. Relax Lisa, for tis your summer holiday (even if it is raining AGAIN!).

Maybe it's because (I was) a Londoner...

One of the things I love about London is the ability for its inhabitants to dress as eccentrically as they wish without anyone paying undue attention (unlike Northampton where such behaviour would have you cast as a lunatic). Is it a trait of acceptance from Londoners? Or perhaps an inbuilt tolerance of creativity when surrounded by such magnificent art, buildings and culture? I would hate to think it's simply because there are so many other insane souls wandering around that nobody notices another.

You may have surmised from this musing that I was in London today and you would be correct, though it was but a flying visit to talk comms with a fellow creative soul (although worryingly we are both aware of the existence of this website - don't worry Bill, your secret is safe with me!).

I have to keep making the pilgrimage to our capital as it feeds my soul. I'm lucky enough to be making the trip twice this week which is just as well as I had a disappointing journal wrecking experience. I had carefully torn out the 'lose this page' in readiness for disposing of it on the tube and sending it on a journey of infinite possibility. Regrettably, once I was seated comfortably on the Northern line (Bank branch) I discovered that though I had remembered my journal, the page had somehow been either lost (which would have been OK after all) or simply left at home. It was the latter so we shall attempt to say our farewells again on Thursday. Perhaps is just didn't want to be left on the Northern (misery) line as it used to be called in my day and hopes for a a more regal class of travel on the Victoria later in the week.

I chose an unusual photo with which to illustrate this post tonight but it was deliberate. Stand in the general vicinity of where I took this and you see age and neglect one direction but modern shining Gherkins in the other. It's a part of the essential character of London. Yes, I know you get this with other cities, but allow me to indulge myself... it just inbues more meaning for me somehow because I am so in love with the place. When I'm rich I'll have a place in Hampstead (close the Heath, Vale of Health perhaps) with a blue plaque on the wall (I'll want to soak up their creativity!) and a country manor with acres of meadows and woodland to frolic around in; preferably not too far from the sea...

The Queen and I

I love London! Every time I go back I wonder why on earth I ever left. I just find wandering around the West End such an uplifting experience, drinking in the architecture, the people, the history. Yesterday I was lucky enough to spend a couple of hours in a part of London that not many get to see - no less a location than St James's Palace and in the company of Her Majesty the Queen! I had been invited to the 25th anniversary celebrations of the charity Help the Hospices as a thank you for my work in setting up a charity partnership with Carlsberg - linking each of the sites to their local hospice. I must say I thoroughly enjoyed myself despite not much really happening - no wild party! We simply turned up, had a glass of wine and nibbled on a (very) tiny canape or two and chatted with some random people. Then the Queen and Prince Philip came through each room and were presented to notable people then we wandered around a bit and left. However, it was the whole 'occasion' that was so enjoyable, the sense of where you were and the company you were keeping. The ghosts of monarchs past wandering those same corridors where suddenly I, a lowly girl from Northampton was strutting her stuff in her new Coast dress and stiletto heels. We even saw the Throne! No idea if it is in regular use, but imagine what important bottoms must have sat on it! I got to pass my business card around a bit so you never know... Maybe I'll get a call from HRH next week!

Help the Hospices are a great charity to be involved with on a corporate partnership. One of the reasons Carlsberg chose them was because each of the sites could team up with their local hospice and, through fundraising and volunteering, give something back to the local community.