Gfp To me, Christmas is about children. Nothing else matters. Now that we have Finn, Christmas is blessed with magic we had forgotten and every little detail counts because when there are children around you never know what is going to fire their imagination. Take the tree. Apart from being obsessed with mobile phones and TV remote controls, (which probably says too much about my fun filled days!)Finley likes balls. To him, baubles are lovely, sparkly, glittery balls, just waiting to be kicked as far as his chubby little legs will let him. (The Wayne Rooney gene comes from his Dad). Never mind the fact that my gorgeous collection of baubles are both hand painted and old: baubles are twinkly balls and that’s the end of the matter. Thus, our titchy little tree is stranded on top of the cabinet, a fuzzy pom pom of a Norway Spruce, decorated with flowers and peacock feathers and in a part of our living room we can neither see, nor enjoy late at night when Christmas trees are at their sparkliest best. It was either that or find Finley flattened by it, in an effort to select the bounciest bauble of all.

And after all the trouble I went to, to make the house as twinkly and tasteful as possible, the only Christmassy thing Finley really likes, is a ludicrously ugly Father Christmas wearing sunglasses and a bandanna that sings "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" which has him creased laughing and jigging about like its the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen.

Which is, I suppose the magic of Christmas.

Who cares if the child has got bad taste and can’t appreciate the subtlety of vintage ornaments…

1_9

I love Sharon Osbourne. No, really I do. If my Mum wasn’t as perfect as she is, I’d ask Sharon to adopt me. She’s gorgeous, the perfect matriarchal combination of tough and tender, and whether she’s  cuddling her kids or searching for the X Factor, she is always the epitome of warmth and kindness.

But even more than I love her, I love her house. It’s glitzy and shabby and beautiful, and if you are going to force me to live in a Beverley Hills mansion, Sharon Osbourne’s will do me just fine.

There is just so much to love. From the fantastically, fabulous bejewelled Eiffel Tower (Yes please, Santa!), to the tiny little checked office off the kitchen, the abundance of  floral paintings you just can’t buy in the U.K and I don’t know whether I dreamt it, but I seem to remember the most perfect white shelved pantry, stocked to the brim with all manner of lovely foodie things. Call me sad,in fact call me what you like, but I would sell my soul for a pantry like that.

And then there is the bedrooms, beautiful decadent furniture and Super King sized beds draped in velvet and covered in feathery cushions, cosy enough to live in. Not to mention the pretty bathrooms, the glam rock living rooms, and oh my life, the gorgeous gardens.

Such a pity her dogs have got such appalling house manners.

Take the tour here.   

Spotted!

Creamy Winter Hyacinths planted in vintage china cups and saucers.

“If I had but two loaves of bread,I would sell one and buy a pot of hyacinths to nourish my soul.”

Just to remind you that what is beautiful is essential.

Have a lovely day.

Vicollage31_13

No.1: Breakfast in Bed.

The Idea…

Indulge your inner princess with a morning spent in your boudoir. Get up early, run yourself a bubbly bath, then dress in your most decadent nightie (frou frou ladies?), take the phone off the hook and climb back into heaven. Total bliss…

  1. No men! This is your time. Your body is your temple, Darling, and what God has created, let no man try to seduce.
  2. No kids or pets. Do you not understand the meaning of self indulgence? Banish them!
  3. Luxurious bedlinen. Accept no compromise. Only the finest antique linen or the crispest Eygptian cotton will do.
  4. A room with a view. Fling open the curtains and let the morning sun bless your pampered soul.
  5. A gorgeous tray arranged with the most enchanting little treats.  Strawberries and chantilly cream, rose truffles, pancakes stuffed with berries, hot chocolate and champagne. A girl needs sustenance.
  6. Cushions and pillow in all shapes and sizes. All the better to recline upon.
  7. A good book. Find something girly or inspiring. Try Elegance by Kathleen Tessaro. Failing that Vogue never fails to satisy the true fashionista and the Sunday Times "Style" supplement is always fun in a sarcastic kind of way.
  8. Breakfast at Tiffanys. Hell why not flick on a DVD and make a day of it?

Enjoy!

Vicollage31_13

No.1: Breakfast in Bed.

The Idea…

Indulge your inner princess with a morning spent in your boudoir. Get up early, run yourself a bubbly bath, then dress in your most decadent nightie (frou frou ladies?), take the phone off the hook and climb back into heaven. Total bliss…

  1. No men! This is your time. Your body is your temple, Darling, and what God has created, let no man try to seduce.
  2. No kids or pets. Do you not understand the meaning of self indulgence? Banish them!
  3. Luxurious bedlinen. Accept no compromise. Only the finest antique linen or the crispest Eygptian cotton will do.
  4. A room with a view. Fling open the curtains and let the morning sun bless your pampered soul.
  5. A gorgeous tray arranged with the most enchanting little treats.  Strawberries and chantilly cream, rose truffles, pancakes stuffed with berries, hot chocolate and champagne. A girl needs sustenance.
  6. Cushions and pillow in all shapes and sizes. All the better to recline upon.
  7. A good book. Find something girly or inspiring. Try Elegance by Kathleen Tessaro. Failing that Vogue never fails to satisy the true fashionista and the Sunday Times "Style" supplement is always fun in a sarcastic kind of way.
  8. Breakfast at Tiffanys. Hell why not flick on a DVD and make a day of it?

Enjoy!

Phonehoney_2   Sweethearts, I have taken to my bed.

Nothing ails me, I simply watched my domestic make up my bed with the prettiest Liberty printed pillows and I couldn’t resist hopping back in.
So here I am, recumbent in my boudoir, the air sweet with pink roses, dwelling on what to wear to tomorrow’s farmers market. I have to admit I nearly choked on my Gin when Arabella suggested it, but apparently buying your spinach and cheddar from rosy cheeked men in flatcaps and a Barbour, is nearly as chic as slumming it in Topshop. Now, rumour has it, that one’s usual Manolo’s just will not do the trick in a farmers field, so a whole new wardrobe is called for, starting of course with the ubiqtous Boden floral Wellingtons and one of those rather scrummy Cabbage and Rose Patchwork Hacking Jackets, one  previously admired but could never quite conjure up a suitable occasion for.  Add a Hermes Scarf tied Sussex Lady style and a vintage shopping basket, and you could easily mistake me for the sort of old money usually to be found wittering on the village green about how the new monied set are lowering the tone of their precious, ludicrously overpriced real estate.
Goodness how time flies! It’s practially dark. Before I know it the man in a suit will be home and trying to take liberties with my delicious fake-baked body. Thank god he’s the sort of man you can swat away like an over persistent fly.
Till Next Time Angels!
xxx

Phonehoney_1 Alice is divine.

The kind of woman you can’t help looking at. The kind of woman, women want to be and men want to…well you know. She’s a high heels kind of gal, a woman with a boudoir to die for and a body to match, and my God, doesn’t she just know it!

But most of all, Alice is fun. She gets herself in some right royal messes but always manages to climb out smelling of Jo Malone’s finest. Give her a gin and she’s your best friend. Give her a whisk and she’ll give Nigella Lawson a run for her money.

You are going to love her…   

Vinmag I have got a magazine fetish. If there was a twelve step programme for magazine addiction I would be on it (Hello, my name is Alison and I am addicted to magazines…), but there isn’t so I am constantly looking for new ways to satisfy my addiction. It is very sad. I will read anything, but I am a sucker for Vogue, Homes and Gardens and a whole host of yummy, gorgeous American, house magazines. In fact give me Country Living and a bar of Green and Blacks and you’ve got yourself one very happy woman indeed. Who needs men!  This month I have discovered VinMag a website dedicated to the sale of a wide range of vintage magazines from the 50’s and 60’s. Until now I have only bought vintage magazines at car boots (usually a bit battered), and they are fabulous sources of ideas and the occasional giggle. Its amazing to see just how much things have changed and  how many aspects of our day to day lives are exactly the same.