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?


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!

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.

Babyface2_3 It was Finley’s ‘Baby Blessing’ at the weekend. I’d vowed not to leave it so long that he was capable of walking down the aisle and blessing himself, but here we are fifteen months later, and Finley not only walked up to the font, he also shouted "Hiya!" to half the congregation, and tugged at the poor Vicars beard as he blessed him. It was lovely and hilarious and oh so completely Finley, and I thought I was going to burst with pride for my little boy.  He looked absolutely gorgeous in pale blue trousers, the sweetest pale blue leather little boots and a Victorian style double breasted wool coat. While I had wanted him to wear something a little more traditional, he is such a proper little boy that the lovely vintage gown I had saved for his special day made him look like an overgrown baby in a girls dress. It breaks my heart to think that he’s not a baby anymore, but I guess he will always be my little babba, and when the party was over and he collapsed on my knee covered in chocolate cake, he looked as precious and as little as ever…

If you are looking for a Vintage Christening Gown (worth it for both the quality of workmanship and fabric), then both CradleLace  and Christening Outfits are worth a look. Just remember to thoroughly check both size and condition.


Housework never ends…..

Sadly, I am the kind of women who prides herself on her housekeeping skills. Inspired by Martha Stewart, I am an angel with a feather duster and a goddess in a floral pinny. I am, I confess, the kind of woman who enjoys getting down on her knees and scrubbing the kitchen floor.

But today I am demented with washing. Demented. Finley is running around with a black bra on his head and I’ve just nearly killed myself on a puddle of water, because to my horror, the washing machine is leaking. 

Now I am a woman with a system. A housework system that has transformed my ludicrously chaotic life.  I am like your Grandmother (only younger and hipper!). I like my rituals. They give my day, my week, my month, order, where quite frankly there is only chaos.  I make ugly things like ironing, lovely with delicious scented ironing water, and wash my underwear in the most divine laundry fragrance from The Good Home Company.

When my towels are neatly stacked in my linen closet, I light my candles and collapse on the sofa with a celebratory cup of tea. I like my rituals.  I usually adore doing the laundry.

But today all hell has broke loose. There is washing everywhere. Any other day I’d cry. Or load the baby into his car seat and hunt out the nearest launderette (do they still exist?) , but today the rain is bucketing down, the house is strangely cosy and to Finley’s joy, I am about to sit down for cuddle with my babba and watch Willie Wonka for the millionth time.

Happy Sunday.


Alison's boy Finley

Alison May

Alison May is my name and I feel its about time I introduced myself. I am the 32 year old owner of a scrumptious baby boy named Finley, and a teeny tiny business designed to make every woman feel as blessed as I do.

Finley is fourteen months old and the cutest thing you have ever seen. While I spent the first year of his life in a blissful haze (without a single sleepless night!), thanks to a lovely combination of Gina Ford’s Contented Baby book and a calm, comfortable house, he has in the past couple of weeks developed a penchant for throwing the most hilarious temper tantrums. What are you supposed to do when your one year old child won’t give up possession of your mobile phone?  I am trying the “pretend it’s not happening” technique at the moment and hoping he gives up the hissy fit as a lost cause, very, very soon. Any advice?


A fish tank built into a divine French Armoire.

A vintage solution to an ugly problem.