An Embarrassment of Frivolities

Of Spring Shoes

2011-03-24T16:40:00.012Z

I popped into Marks and Spencer today to buy some tights, after a visit to the doctor to get the results of my second blood test. He confirmed that I have had glandular fever, but although it's nice to have a definite diagnosis, there is no treatment apart from rest, so he simply reiterated the need to take things gently over the Easter holiday. Luckily the weather in Oxford has been absolutely glorious over the past few days, and apparently it is set to remain this way for the rest of the week. I certainly hope so! The warm sunshine and blue skies are so cheering, and today I slipped into this outfit, which remains as good for seeing in the Spring this year as it was last!

When I was in M&S, my eye was drawn to the shoe department (well, if they will arrange the store so I am simply *forced* to walk past the shoes to get to the tights, it would really be rude to avoid paying them proper attention, wouldn't it?). Not least because it was looking particularly eye-catching this afternoon as the new season's stock had obviously just arrived. I have long been a fan of M&S shoes, finding that they tend to produce several tempting pairs each season, all reasonably priced and relatively long-lasting, and as such they are one of my go-to choices for every-day footwear. I didn't actually buy anything today, but I did have to exercise a certain amount of restraint (yes, I am capable of it sometimes ... just don't tell anyone that I might go back again tomorrow...). Three pairs in particular tested my resolve, but I contented myself (for now) with trying them all on and then replacing them carefully on the shelf.

The sudden outburst of sunny weather this week has reminded me that Spring really is just around the corner (I'm particularly looking forward to the clocks going forward this weekend), and I'm feeling a corresponding urge to inject some brightness into my wardrobe. These would certainly do that! The red suede positively popped off the shelf, and would be a marvelous way to add a bit of colourful fizz to any outfit:

(Autograph Suede Peep Toe Platform Shoes, £49)

I was also taken with the somewhat nautical feel of these heels, which look perfect for pairing with something cool and airy for a bit of relaxed chic:

(Peep Toe High Heel Platform Shoes, £25)

Finally, I couldn't resist slipping my toes into these cheeky platforms, which have a lovely 1950's vibe about them. I normally avoid slingbacks, finding that they have a tendency to sling themselves off, but I paraded around the top floor of M&S in fine style in these to take them for a test drive, and they clung to my heels like limpets. So, who knows, perhaps they could even persuade me to give the style another go. The neutral colours mean they would go with so many things, after all, although I also like the naughty little jolts of red on the soles.

(Limited Collection Peep Toe Flower Platform Shoes, £29.50)

I always think it's fun to update one's wardrobe with a new piece or two every season, and shoes are a good way to do so. I might just pop back into M&S tomorrow, anyway, just to *see* whether any of these look as pretty as they do in my memory (and as they do on the ever-tempting website). After all, if I'm going to be putting my feet up over the next few weeks, I might as well put them up in style!

In the meantime, I'm going to slip my feet into something rather less spectacular, and head out into my garden to make the most of the last of today's sunshine. For, as Sir W tells us in his 1601 essay 'Of Solitarinesse and Company',

'the Sun [is] not carrying his Lanthorne for himselfe but for the world'.

Of Small Pleasures

2011-03-18T14:21:00.012Z

I'm back in Oxford now, after a week's rest at home, and I'm pleased to report that the penicillin and steroids worked their magic and my throat cleared up very quickly. I'm still extremely tired, and had to have another blood test yesterday to try to clarify whether or not this *is* glandular fever or just another nasty infection. I won't have the results back for another week, but in the meantime, I'm enjoying some of the small pleasures in life while I am forced to take everything very quietly for a while.

As I'm going to be spending most of my time in my flat, I thought I would brighten the place up a little, and yesterday I paid a visit to Daisies, a delightful florist on Walton Street in Jericho, just around the corner from me.

(Image from the Daisies website)

I've peeked through the window several times before, but this is the first time I've actually bought anything there, as usually I frequent another florist in the Covered Market in the centre of Oxford. I decided it was high time I investigated my local flower shop, however, and I wasn't disappointed. The stock in Daisies is stunning, and I've just discovered that it's even possible to order some of their spectacular displays online and have them delivered anywhere across the UK, which is something I might bear in mind for future special occasions!

(Image from the Daisies website)

Although I was tempted by half the shop, I did eventually manage to make up my mind, and bought enough to fill one big glass vase in the sitting room, and a smaller porcelain one in my bedroom. Tulips are always a favourite of mine, and I thought the yellow heart peeking out of the orange petals made these particularly pretty:

I love both the look and the scent of hyacinths, so when I saw the gorgeous deep purple of these beauties, I knew I had to have them. They provide a wonderful dark contrast to the fiery splendour of the tulips...

... and really brighten up the sitting room:

I went for more delicate option for my bedroom, with soothing blues and creams fitting in nicely amongst some of the oddments on my dressing table.

When I was growing up, my mum would always make sure that we had new cut flowers every week, and since I've come away to university this is a habit I've enjoyed turning into my own. It's such an easy way to inject some freshness and colour into a room, and I love the way in which they provide an ever-changing ornament.

For now, I'm curling up on the sofa, admiring my bouquet and enjoying the divine smell of the hyacinths wafting towards me. It's having to compete, however, with the scent of Earl Grey, as I've just made myself a big mugful to go along with this morning's postal delivery: Dandy Gilver & An Unsuitable Day for a Murder by Catriona McPherson. This is the latest in the series which started with the wonderful After the Armistice Ball, and I can't wait to read about Dandy's latest adventures!

Sir W warns us in his 1601 essay 'Of Humilitie' that,

'beauty is but a colour, and not reckened amongst the substantiall',

but as I settle down with my book and tea and gaze upon my lovely flowers, I feel content in finding pleasure in the transient vibrancy of their beautiful, colourful petals. And who knows what I'll find in the florist to tempt me next week?

Of The Unexpected

2011-03-10T17:16:00.011Z

Well, life really is full of surprises, isn't it? I did not expect, this time last week, that I would now be sitting in my bed at home, dosed up to the eyeballs on penicillin and steroids, and awaiting the results of a blood test. But here I am! Last weekend, I developed an incredibly painful sore throat, which resulted in my barely being able to swallow anything, even water, without feeling as if my throat were being cut through with razor blades. I was generally weak and pitiful, and on Monday took myself off to the doctor, who took one look inside my mouth and recoiled, exclaiming 'Nasty!', before diagnosing me with suspected Glandular Fever. I was packed off to have a blood test the following morning, and should get the results tomorrow. In the meantime, my mum shot down to Oxford and whisked me away home to be looked after and pampered as I do my best Wilting Victorian Lady impression, and flit piteously between the bed and the sofa. My health has not been great for a few months now -- always a worry with my history of M.E. (which I suffered from badly between the ages of 14 and 18, with the odd relapse since) -- and obviously I need to be extra careful as I recuperate now. So it's going to be brake pedal on for a while, with regards to work and play. It's difficult having to miss out on the things I want to do, but several years of M.E. means that I have learned the necessity of listening to my body and not pushing myself to breaking point, and the doctor is hopeful that with catching this early, and throwing lots of medication at it, we can keep things contained.

To cheer myself up in the meantime, however, my mum and I have just arranged a couple of London adventures for her birthday at the end of June, by which time I hope to be back to something approaching full working order. We will be having an afternoon and evening filled with the best food and entertainment the capital has to offer, even managing to fit in a little bit of fashion as a matter of course -- in the best frivolous manner.

We'll be starting off with the Pret a Portea afternoon tea in the deliciously named Caramel Room at The Berkeley Hotel in Knightsbridge. I've been desperate to go here since I first heard about the fashionista fancies on offer at the tea table, and I only had to show a couple of these photos to my mum before she was completely captivated too:

(Images from The Berkeley Hotel's website)

Mmm. Doesn't it all look divine? Almost too good to eat. Almost...

After polishing off our pretty platefuls, we'll then be heading off in the evening to the Garrick Theatre to see their forthcoming production of Pygmalion. I saw Peter Hall's brilliant version of this at the Old Vic in 2008 with Michelle Dockery (recently so good in ITV's excellent series Downton Abbey -- if you get the chance do watch this if you missed it before Christmas!) as Eliza and the ever-dependable Tim Piggott-Smith as Professor Higgins. I am still wildly excited about this new production, however, as it stars one of my favourite actors: Rupert Everett. I am really looking forward to seeing what he brings to the role of Henry Higgins!

(Image from here)

For now, however, I am curling up under the duvet and making the most of my unexpected rest by (finally!) finishing my Persephone Reading Weekend book (watch out for a review soon, as well as a belated description of my time in London the other weekend). As well as this, I am (also finally) catching up with The Killing, a Danish crime drama which has been showing on BBC4 over recent weeks. Luckily for me, there is still some of the series to go, and the rest of it is still (just) available on the BBC iPlayer. I've heard so many good things about it, and have been wanting to watch it for ages without managing to find the time, so some enforced bed rest seems like the perfect opportunity. I have mentioned before how Sir W tells us in his 1600 essay 'Of Sleepe' that

'Fame neuer yet knewe a perpetuall bedpresser',

but for now, Fame will have to wait, as bedpressing is exactly what the doctor ordered!

Of Dressing Up In The Kitchen

2011-03-03T16:46:00.010Z

I'm rather behind on my target for Persephone Reading Weekend, as my very busy weekend and return to Oxford means that I've so far only managed to read the first three of Irene Nemirovsky's Dimanche and Other Stories. I'm pleased to say that I'm very much enjoying the collection so far though, so I hope to be able to bring you a review at the end of next week if I keep up with my lunchtime reading! Once I've sorted out some pictures, I'm also really looking forward to telling you all about my first experience of the ROH, as well as my delightful day in Hampstead (and other places, as it turned out...) on Sunday.

In the meantime, I couldn't help but share these breathtakingly elegant aprons (of all things), which are available for pre-order from the ever-wonderful Natural History. Apparently they've been causing quite a commotion in the States, and the canny people at Natural History decided they couldn't let the opportunity to bring them to our shores slip by. Can you blame them? These look like something I'd be quite happy to wander down the street in (although I assume that I might be in need of a little cover up from behind if I were to try that!). They might be a little pricey at £52, but perhaps such beautiful kitchen ware (wear?) is worth it. After all, I'm sure everything I turned my hand to at the oven couldn't help but come out just that little bit more perfect than it already does (ahem) if I adorned myself in one of these...

Rollings of Cinnamon Apron, £52

Morning Bun Moments Apron, £52

Frosty Tin Marshmallows Apron, £52

Even the names are good enough to eat. Although Sir W, in this sentence from his 1601 essay 'Of Virtue', would caution me against placing too much importance on outward appearance, I have to say that there are some moments I just have to pay him no heed!

'Mee thinkes, this same vanity of clothes hath done vertue wrong, for wee discry great men as much by their clothes, as actions, which is very improper'.

Of Persephone Reading Weekend: The Beginning

2011-02-25T14:01:00.009Z

Today marks the beginning of Persephone Reading Weekend, run by Verity and Claire. If you haven't already, do pay a visit to their blogs and check out their Persephone-related posts and competitions over this weekend. As I mentioned before, I'll be reading Dimanche and Others Stories over the next couple of days, as I never did get round to starting it before! It's one of the most recent publications by Persephone, and I'm really excited about reading it. I've never read Irene Nemirovsky's most famous book -- Suite Francaise -- but have heard so many excellent things about it that I plan to seek it out once I've finished these short stories. If I like them of course, but my past experience of Persephone tells me that I'm likely to! The last set of short stories published by them that I read was the utterly entrancing Tea with Mr Rochester by Frances Towers, so I am eagerly anticipating my next grey-covered venture into this genre.

I've had rather a painful few days with a wisdom tooth coming through -- and it's not over yet, unfortunately! -- so relaxing with a good book is exactly what I need. Although I also have a busy weekend coming up: a trip to consult some manuscripts at the British Library tomorrow, followed in the evening by my first trip to the Royal Opera House to see their exciting new production: Anna Nicole. I'll be reporting back on what I think of it next week! Then on Sunday it's up to Hampstead for a long overdue catch up lunch with skirmishofwit. All in all, it should be a lovely weekend (presuming my tooth allows me to eat!), and Dimanche will be the perfect travel companion on the train to London and back.

Until then, I leave you with a sentence from Sir W's 1600 essay 'Of Discontentments'. It might be my dentist, rather than Philosophy who told me to expect my own current tooth-ache, but I can't say that such preparation makes it particularly easier to 'entertain'...

'when any of these Tooth-aches of the body come, shee [Philosophy] teacheth that they are to be entertained, not as straungers, but as Familiars that we haue long expected'.

Of Love

2011-02-14T11:39:00.007Z

Sir William Cornwallis the Younger (c.1579 - 1614), 'Of Loue' from Essayes (1600):

It is a pretty soft thing this same Loue, an excellent company keeper; full of gentlenesse and affabilitie; makes men fine and to go cleanly; teacheth them qualities, handsome protestations; and if the ground be not too barren, it bringeth forth Rimes and Songs full of passion, enough to procure crossed armes and the Hat pulled down. Yea, it is a very fine thing, the badge of eighteene and vpward, not to be disallowed. Better spend thy time so than at Dice. I am content to call this Loue thou I holde Loue too worthy a Cement to ioyne earth to earth. The one parte must be celestiall or else it is not Loue.

I hope I shall not offend Diuinity if I say the coniunction of man & wife is not Loue. It is an allowance of God's and so good, and the name of it, I thinke, two honest Affections vnited into one.

If this bee so, what becomes of all the rest, which are counterfaits & yet begge vnder the passe-port of Loue? Loue thy neighbour as thy selfe. That which comes nearest to Loue is this: man with man agreeing in sexe. I cannot thinke it is so betweene man and woman, for it giues opportunity to lust, which the pureness of Loue will not endure.

Among all Affections that of Socrates was the best, who sought to better the mindes of all his familiars, and loued a good witte and inclinations to good, and sought to confirme them in that.

I laugh and wonder at the straung occasions that men take now a dayes to say they loue. If they meete with a fellowe at a Feast or in a Potte, if their Delights bee any thing a Kinne or their Faces any thing alike, if their Countries be one or their landes near adioyning, if they be both rich or both poore, or indeed, if their new-fangled inuentions can finde out any occasion, they are sworne brothers; they will liue and dye together. But they scarce sleepe in this mind; the one comes to make vse of the other and that spoyles all. He entred this league not to impaire but to profit himselfe. I can compare prosperity to nothing so rightly as to the promising plenteous fields of the Egyptians, which were deuoured by the numberlesse troupes of Flies. You cannot haue the one without the other. Flatters deuoure the Inheritance of Fortune, who, while she hath no neede of them, looke like Bees that will not be vnprofitable; but be once driuen and let Pouerty be your Arithmetician, you shall then see they brought nothing to your stocke but fed vpon it, and then you shall easily discerne them to be Drones. There is no Loue vpon the earth. God loueth vs vndeservedly, and some good men loue and so feare him. It is Loue from this last because God is a partie, or else it might be affection, not possibly Loue. Loue is diuine & eternall; Affection, like our flesh, momentary & mortall. If I could be sure of them, I would say I loued too and make men say they are my friends. But it is an vncertain trade this louing and stands vpon such a company of circumstances as I like it not. I make no difference between common louers and common whores; they both flatter and make the name of Loue their Bawdes to serue their particular pleasures. For my choyse of friends, vertue shall be the groundworke, and so I may build surely. Let his fortunes be what they will, I care not; yet if I might choose, I would haue him poore, for so I might easiest shew my affection to him and profit my selfe by him with least cost. For I hold obseruation more precious than wealth, and I will rather giue him my purse than my tyme.

Of Persephone Reading Weekend

2011-02-11T12:36:00.008Z

Although I didn't exactly do very well with my report of the last Persephone Reading Week, which unfortunately arrived just as I fell off the edge of the blogging world, I am extremely excited by the prospect of the forthcoming Persephone Reading Weekend, hosted once again by Verity at CardiganGirlVerity and Claire at Paperback Reader. The Weekend is running from 25th - 27th February, and it seems to me that reading one of Persephone's beautiful dove-grey books is the perfect way to round off a month which has been a rather duller shade of grey.

Despite what is says on the side of this page, I haven't actually started reading Dimanche and Other Stories yet, so perhaps I'll save it to enjoy at the end of the month. Although, of course, if I do happen to get through it before then, well, I'll just *have* to pay the Persephone Books website another visit, won't I?

Whatever I end up reading, I promise that this time, I will actually tell you all about it! For I intend to follow Sir W's advice in his 1600 essay 'Of the obseruation, and vse of things', to

'Here stay thy selfe, and read with attention'.

Of Tea and Crumpets

2011-02-04T12:33:00.019Z

I spent most of my life thinking that -- unaccountably for an English person -- I Didn't Like Tea (shock! horror! perhaps it's the Greek blood!), or coffee, for that matter. When I was little, as my mother made one of her own copious cups of tea, I would be offered a little mug of my own, brimming with a steaming, milky beverage. In my mind, this was -- to paraphrase Mark Twain -- nothing more than a good cup of milk spoiled. It was only many years later, once I had discovered the delicate delights of fragrant Jasmine tea, and the dark, smokey pleasures of Lapsang Souchong, that I realized that actually, I did like tea. Just as long as it didn't require milk. I like tea, and I like milk, but separately, thank you very much. I experienced a similar epiphany in my relationship with coffee. As with the tea, everyone assumed that if I couldn't cope with the taste of coffee even when diluted with milk or in coffee-flavoured chocolates (yuck), I certainly wouldn't be able to deal with the unadulterated variety, so for a long time no drop of pure black coffee had ever passed my lips. On holiday in Florence for my 21st birthday, however, my mum persuaded me that I couldn't come to Italy without attempting a sip or two. Spurning her suggestion of an early morning frothy cappuccino to ease myself in, I opted instead for the rich tang of a tiny espresso. I have never looked back. I blame the Italian sunshine for turning my head.

Now that I've discovered that I am a tea drinker after all, I'm always on the look out for pretty and unusual teacups and mugs to liven up my morning (or afternoon ... or evening) tea break. In fact, no doubt my subconscious was willing me to like tea and coffee for years, just to give me yet another excuse for storing up beautiful pieces of crockery in the cupboard, not to mention silver tea-strainers for all those gorgeous packets of loose-leaf teas I just had to buy when I found myself wandering round the ground floor of Fortnum and Mason. I mean, these things always taste better when they're nicely presented...

One of my favourite mugs is the aptly named Sophia Peek-A-Boo mug from the wonderful Crumpet and Skirt, which I told you about last year. The shop's range has expanded from when I last posted about them, with some new lovely ladies gracing their mugs and cards, but Sophia still holds a firm place in my heart. I can't help smiling every time I drain the dregs from my cup and she pops up again at the bottom:

Perhaps this is the reason I've been drawn to a similarly fun-loving range which I found whilst browsing over at LifeStyleBazarre: always a good place to go if you're on the search for beautiful and quirky homewares. I'm now totally smitten with the Blaue Blume range by Tina Tsang of Undergrowth Designs, especially since some of the pieces are in the sale...

Sadly, sale or no sale, I don't think I can quite stretch to the entire range, but it is hard to resist a teacup whose handle is a sexy pair of legs ending in a pair of enticing red shoes. Although even at sale price, I think I'd be the only one to be drinking out of it!

Blaue Blume teacup and saucer, £35 (reduced from £45)

If I wanted more of a centre piece, I could go for this teapot from the same range, whose handle is formed from a pair of delicately crossed legs tipped with shiny gold shoes...

Blaue Blume teapot, £59 (reduced from £79)

... or perhaps this rather magnificently decadent cake stand, which I absolutely loved until I spotted the rather creepy baby's head at the bottom!

Blaue Blume cake stand, £139

Or how about bathing in sugar? Judging from the joyous kick of this lady's legs, it could be rather fun. I don't take sugar in my tea or coffee, but this sugar bath might just persuade me to answer 'yes':

Blaue Blume sugar bath, £44

If lithe legs on display at the table isn't quite your cup of tea, the range also offers some rather more subdued, but still very pretty options, such as this aptly named cake plate, which just needs a nice slice of something yummy to live up to its promise:

Blaue Blume small cake plate, £18

Mmm, I'm hungry already. Any one of these would be a feast to look upon, as well as eat from, for -- to steal a phrase from Sir W's 1601 essay 'Of Conceipt' -- they are

'a very merriment to the eyes'.

Of Feeling Frivolous Once Again

2011-02-02T13:26:00.008Z

My oh my, what a long time it's been since there was any frivolous activity on here! I don't know whether there's anyone still out there, but a big hello and a belated Happy New Year to you if you are. I've been sad about the lack of blogging-based frivolities in my life over recent months, and have often been heard to sigh 'oh, this would be so much fun to blog about' as Summer slipped into Autumn, and Autumn tumbled into Winter. Although I think perhaps my companions out and about have been relieved not to have to stand and wait for me while I dawdle along taking photos of absolutely everything 'just in case I want to post it on the blog'. Not to mention snapping pictures of everything on my plate before I raise a forkful to my mouth (although the real problems tend to arise when I want to photograph everything on *their* plate before they're allowed to eat. Never take a very hungry person with you if you want to photo-blog about the meal. It can get ugly).

Anyway, I am really excited to be back in the saddle, so to speak, although this time I've decided to be realistic and realize that there's really no way I'm going to be able to try to blog every day: so look out for posts two or three times a week (unless I'm feeling particularly energetic and organized!). A lot has changed in my life over the past few months, but I'm still in Oxford with dear Sir W, and rest assured (just in case you were trembling), he will still be sharing his words of wisdom at the end of every post. Which brings me to an opportune moment to leave you with a sentence from Sir W's 1600 essay 'Of Fame'. This seems to me an appropriate starting point for my posts soon to come, when:

'What I have seene in my trauaille, I will trust this peece of paper with and so ridde my braine of that carriage'.

Of Persephone Reading Week

2010-05-03T14:28:00.004+01:00

I am very excited as today marks the beginning of Persephone Reading Week, co-hosted by Verity at The B Files and Claire at Paperback Reader.

As I mentioned a few days ago, I have three new Persephones to see me through the week, although sadly I'm not sure if my schedule will allow me to enjoy all three of them by the 9th of May. I currently have Miss Buncle's Book by D. E. Stevenson tucked into my bag to read over lunch or in other spare moments, and I hope to get on to at least one of my other two choices (To Bed With Grand Music and Lady Rose and Mrs Memmary) before the week is out. Miss Buncle's Book is the first D. E. Stevenson I've read, and if the first few chapters are anything to go by, it certainly won't be my last, as I'm loving it so far. The endpapers, based on a 1934 design by Vanessa Bell, are also charming:

I can't wait to check out posts by all the other people taking part in Persephone Reading Week, even if my wish list is likely to rocket sky high afterwards! Although I now have to get back to Sir W and his contemporaries, I am looking forward to returning to Silverstream and its inhabitants before long. I am already certain that -- in the words of Sir W in his 1600 essay 'Of Advise' -- Miss Buncle's Book will turn out to be (like so many Persephones),

'a sweete meditation, that may be often read ouer without tediousnesse'.

Of A Day of Delights

2010-04-28T15:29:00.023+01:00

Last week, my mum and I had a trip to London to see Noel Coward's Private Lives, which is currently playing at the Vaudeville Theatre.

Rather than just heading to London in time for curtain up, however, we decided to go down a little earlier to make the most of being in the capital. We started off with a trip to the Victoria and Albert Museum, where we had hoped to see the exhibition of Grace Kelly's clothes which is currently showing there. As it was midway through a Monday afternoon, we hadn't expected it to be that busy, but we were sadly mistaken, and it turned out to be completely sold out for the rest of the day. Luckily the exhibition has only just begun, and there's plenty of time left for me to catch it before it closes on 26th September. I'll just make sure to book next time!

Instead, I went along to another exhibition currently showing at the V&A which I've been wanting to visit: Horace Walpole and Strawberry Hill. I've been interested in Walpole (the son of our first Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole) ever since I read his Gothic fantasy The Castle of Otranto, and he's even cropped up in the course of my research as he owned a manuscript version of a text of Sir W's (The Encomium of Richard III) which I've been working on recently. Walpole was one of the greatest collectors of the eighteenth century, and the exhibition was

filled with fascinating objects and paintings from his Gothic pile Strawberry Hill, such as this cabinet of curiosities:

Photo via the V&A website

Strawberry Hill, which stands on the outskirts of London in Twickenham, is currently being restored, and will be re-opening to the public later this year on Walpole's birthday: 24th September. I for one will definitely be going along to explore it!

After wandering around the atmospheric exhibition, my mum and I went for tea and cakes in the V&A's magnificent cafe, where I marvelled anew at the glittering chandeliers...

... intricately decorated ceilings and pillars ...

... and spectacular fireplaces:

I adored the entrancing combinations of patterns and textures all around me:

Once outside in the courtyard, I found much still to admire, both natural and manmade:

No visit to the V&A would be complete without a visit to their marvellous shop (I probably shouldn't admit this, but for some time my only experience of this fabled museum was the shop and the cafe. Oh, and the rooms devoted to historical fashions). I always love browsing there, and it's a great place to pick up birthday presents. This time, I managed to restrain my shopping impulses, although I did greatly enjoy the beautiful displays:

On the way out, I admired the combination of ancient and modern...

... before we made our way to Soho to enjoy a pre-theatre meal at Quo Vadis, a restaurant which has been recommended to us many times by skirmishofwit and ramblingfancy. I'm certainly very grateful for the suggestion, as my mum and I both had some excellent food there. I had began with a delicious sea bass cerviche

while my mum got to grips with these beauties:

I managed (with some difficulty!) to wangle a taste (in the name of research, of course) and can report that they were absolutely superb, and accompanied by a deliciously rich home-made mayonnaise. For the main course, I went for steak tartare, which I always enjoy. Quo Vadis's take on this French classic was good, and although I generally prefer it when the egg is already mixed in, I can't deny it looked very pretty:

After the meal, we managed to waddle our way outside and catch a cab to the Strand, nicely in time to buy a programme and settle down in our seats. I have never seen Private Lives performed on stage before, although I very much enjoyed a BBC Radio 4 dramatisation of it with Bill Nighy and Helena Bonham-Carter earlier this year. I was, however, in for a real treat at the Vaudeville. Matthew Macfadyen and Kim Cattrall were wonderful as Elyot and Amanda, and Lisa Dillon and Simon Paisley Day provided them with excellent foils as the long-suffering Sybil and Victor.

Photo via the Vaudeville Theatre website

The sparks simply flew between Macfadyen and Cattrall: the scene in which the two bickering ex-spouses count down the seconds during an enforced two-minute silence was filled with a bristling, hilarious tension, while the climatic fight scene between the supposedly happily reunited couple at the end of the second act was spectacularly well done. The leads did an excellent job of portraying the love-hate relationship between Amanda and Elyot, while the looks upon their faces during the spat between Victor and Sybil at the play's end said it all. Caroline Lena Olsson, playing Amanda's French maid in Paris, also displayed some great comic timing -- there was simply not a bad performance in sight.

All in all, a wonderful day, full of several delights. To quote Sir W (in his 1601 essay 'Of Popularitie'), it was one whose

'satisfaction rested as much in the varietie, as in the proffit'.

Of A Present from Persephone

2010-04-26T09:55:00.008+01:00

A lovely parcel was waiting for me in my college pigeon hole (or 'pidge') the other day. Or rather, three lovely parcels, as I went into the post room to find a newly delivered stash of Persephone books. I had a Persephone book token from my aunt and uncle for Christmas, but only recently got around to exchanging it for some of those beautiful grey covers.

As always, the greatest difficulty was in deciding which ones I should choose from the many tempting options. So many of these neglected and rediscovered titles sound fascinating, but as I dithered, hovering my cursor over first one, and then another 'add to basket' box on the website, I was reassured by the thought that I've never yet been disappointed by anything that's come through the post from Lamb's Conduit Street.

In the end, I went for one Persephone I've been lusting after for a while: Lady Rose and Mrs Memmary by Ruby Ferguson, which sounds as if it is going to be quite as charming as the 1930s dress fabric used for its endpapers, which is filled with beautiful flowers and dancing couples:

Along with this, I plumped for two of Persephone's most recent publications, which I've been dying to read ever since they came out: Miss Buncle's Book by D. E. Stevenson, which sounds like great fun; and To Bed With Grand Music by Marghanita Laski. I enjoyed Laski's creepily atmospheric story The Victorian Chaise-Longue when I read it last year, and have heard fantastic things about To Bed With Grand Music. Happily, if I like it as much as I expect to, I have two other Laski titles published by Persephone -- Little Boy Lost and The Village -- to look forward to afterwards!

I'm particularly pleased to have received my Persephone parcels just now, as they've arrived nicely in time for this year's Persephone Reading Week, coming up in May:

Begun by Verity at The B Files last year, this year the reading week is being co-hosted by Verity and Claire at Paperback Reader. It's such a great way to spread the Persephone love and learn more about the various titles (to help streamline that wishlist), and I'm really looking forward to reading everyone's thoughts and sharing a few of my own. I love the way in which events like this really bring people together across the blogosphere. Indeed, we might say, along with Sir W in his 1600 essay 'Of Censuring', that we will be

'conuersing with bookes',

and I for one can't wait to begin!

Of A Happy Purchase

2010-04-13T10:55:00.006+01:00

This lovely lady expresses the feelings of joy I'm experiencing at the moment, thanks to my recent purchase (finally!) of a new camera. At the moment, Rose Dancer is adorning my bedroom wall, as she's the Miss April for my current calendar. This year I decided to go for the Erte calendar by Flame Tree Publishing. I adore Erte's designs, and this one from 1984 shows that he lost none of his talent over the course of his long life (Erte, or Romain de Tirtoff, lived from 1892 to 1990. The pseudonym came from the French pronunciation of his initials). I've been enjoying turning over the page each month to be greeted by another beautiful figure, and a quick glance down the Erte page at Flame Tree shows me that I might just have found a good place to buy my Christmas cards this year (it never hurts to be prepared!):

The only problem would be choosing which design to pick (and these are only a few of the ones on offer!), but at only £4.99 for a pack of twelve (plus postage), I might not be forced to stick at just one...

I am beyond excited to have a camera in my hot little hands once again, and can't wait to get out there and start using it. In fact, I think it will be having its very first outing this evening, as I'm off to London later to spend an evening with friends and particularly to catch up with one friend who is back in the UK on a flying visit from a six month work placement in Athens. My latest purchase is very well timed! I love having pictorial reminders of events -- large and small -- in my life, and although I've enjoyed a bit of retro chic with the odd disposable camera over the past few months, I have really missed having my digital camera constantly at my side. I'm looking forward to once again being able to express myself and share my experiences through photos here on my blog too. For (to quote Sir W in his 1601 essay 'Of Trappes for Fame'), sometimes

'my picture can doe this, better than I'.

Of Being Back In Time

2010-04-12T14:51:00.014+01:00

Last Thursday, I went back in time. Really. Well, so nearly really that it actually felt like I'd stepped back a few decades, to a time when men wore smart hats over brill-creamed hair and women wouldn't step outside without a pair of gloves and a swipe of lipstick. In other words, I took a trip on a steam train along the Severn Valley Railway. The SVR runs sixteen miles, from Kidderminster in Worcestershire to Bridgnorth in Shropshire, passing through some absolutely stunning countryside along the way. Several years ago, during a camping trip to Norfolk, I went on the Wells and Walsingham Light Railway:

As you can see, it's very cute, but although I remember this baby steam train being a lot of fun, it doesn't have proper carriages, so hardly has the same power to transport one back in time like the SVR, which really made me feel like I was one of The Railway Children. If I'd been wearing red flannel petticoats, believe me, I'd have been tempted to tear them off and start waving them as flags.

Managing to restrain my impulses to follow Jenny Agutter's example and attempt some impromtu sephamore, I sedately followed my mother into the first class carriage (at £3 each way for the upgrade, it was well worth it to have a proper little compartment all to ourselves!) and settled down to enjoy the ride. A red-faced, white-bearded guard came and checked our tickets, offered us a toffee (this never normally happens to me on trains!) and we were off into the beautiful countryside, the rhythmic chug and puff of the train signalling our passage.

The SVR has several station stops between Kidderminster and Bridgnorth, but although some of them sounded tempting, we had decided to travel straight through, so that we could enjoy a leisurely lunch in the Shropshire town, and, as the weather was so good (it was a glorious, warm day with bright blue skies and hardly any clouds), a little stroll around after our meal. Nevertheless, we enjoyed peering out of the carriage at the towns and villages, fields and woods as we passed by...

I also found out what it really means to be smutty, as I wiped the little dabs of flakey soot from my hands after they flew in through the window as I stared out!

Apart from the lovely vistas (sadly I still had no camera, hence the reliance on stock photos from the SVR website), we were also thrilled by the variety of wildlife that was prancing around outside. From partridges to pheasants, lambs to galloping horses, we saw it all. And I mean all. There were even elephants, a couple of rhinos, and a herd of reindeer. I kid thee not. Well, we did pass by the West Midland Safari Park, after all...!

The journey to Bridgnorth took about an hour, but it seemed no time at all before we arrived at the station:

Here, however, it looked like our journey might end, with dreams of lunch and sunlit strolls being catapulted out of our minds thanks to a sudden confrontation with a Rather Large suspension bridge. As some of you might remember, I have a little problem called vertigo, and I could tell at a glance that this bridge and I were not going to be friends. A little fingerpost pointed across the bridge proclaiming 'Bridgnorth Town Centre', and the rest of the train's passengers were trouping merrily across. I, however, cowered against the wall and felt slightly foolish as I wondered whether I would ever manage to join them. From my position against the stones, however, with the quick eye of a vertigo sufferer (it makes you very fast at figuring out alternate routes, or, rather, escape routes!), I had already noticed the line of cars next to the platform. They had definitely not come across the scarily high footbridge, so I knew there must be another way across. I started to feel a bit more hopeful. My optimism was rewarded when my mum returned from a scouting expedition with a charming young porter, who led us towards a nice gentle path out of the little railway carpark and down the hill to the main road below, with no sudden drops or vertiginous bridges in sight. I breathed a sigh of relief, and we set off.

Although we were keen to explore the pretty town, the call of our stomachs was stronger, and our first stop was lunch at a nice little brasserie on the High Street. Suitably replenished, we set off to admire the local sights, such as the Town Hall on stilts...

... and the beautiful church hidden away down a winding little lane:

As we pottered around, my eye was caught (naturally) by a sign for a vintage clothing and accessories shop called The Looking Glass. Venturing inside, we found a veritable treasure trove of vintage and reproduction clothing ranging from the 1920s through to the 1970s, as well as some contemporary hats, gloves, and jewellery. My eye was immediately caught by some stunning reproduction 1920s dresses hanging outside the one little changing room. Long, thin, and black, they were intricately beaded with silver decorations in the most fantastic patterns. Some of the most spectacular designs were influenced by the Art Deco craze for Egyptian style designs that came after the dramatic discoveries of the archaeological expeditions of the 1920s and '30s. The reproduction dresses were beautiful, and had been hand-made in India by families using traditional techniques, and sold under Fair Trade contracts to ensure they were being produced ethically. Mindful of the upcoming white tie New College Ball in June, I tried some on. They were gorgeous, and made me feel as if I'd stepped straight out of a Poirot novel. I was deeply tempted. But which one to choose? Time was ticking by and we needed to be back at the station to catch the steam train back to Kidderminster. I ummed and aahed and tried three dresses on again in a bid to make my mind up (decision making is not always my strongest point). Just as I was considering trying the first dress on for the third time, the lovely lady whose shop it was re-emerged from the back of the shop where she had been rummaging through the rails, clutching a shimmering bundle of taffeta. 'I don't want to confuse you even further', she said, 'but I couldn't resist showing you this one'. I took the dress from her hands and slipped it on. Instantly, I knew it. It was too big, but still, I knew. I had found my dress. I won't describe it now, apart from to say it's an original evening gown from the 1930s, and -- of course -- that I think it's very beautiful. But a proper description (with photos!) will have to wait until the ball itself. I'm not always a great fan of vintage clothes, but I must say that with this dress I'm glad to have my mind changed. I'm ridiculously excited about getting the alterations done and trying it on again, and even more excited about wearing it to the ball itself. And it's fitting, perhaps, that a 1950s steam train should lead me even further back in time to a 1930s dress! I really hadn't had any idea of finding the dress in Bridgnorth, and had actually been planning to slog around the London shops to try to find something. Such unlooked for treasures are always extra-special, and I am at one with Sir W in his 1600 essay 'Of Censuring' when he says that:

'I like them the better because vnexpected'.

Of A Happy Easter

2010-04-05T22:58:00.015+01:00

I hope you've all been enjoying as lovely an Easter weekend as I have! I'm at home for ten days of holiday at the moment, and have been indulging in some festive treats. I was very pleased to make the acquaintance of this little fellow yesterday, who is (almost) too cute to eat:

After a lovely Easter Sunday lunch at home with my mum and grandparents yesterday, today my mum and I made a trip up into the beautiful Peak District. Our destination was the charming estate village of Tissington in Derbyshire, about an hour's drive away, and a favourite place to visit when I'm at home. Crossing over the cattlegrid that marks the village boundary, it feels rather as if one has driven into a picture postcard. Pretty, grey-stoned cottages cluster at the head of the main street...

... a picturesque church perches atop a little hill ...

... and crowning it all is the stunning Tissington Hall, still privately owned by the Fitzherbert family, as it has been since the fifteenth century. The current Hall dates from 1609, and I can just imagine Sir W emerging from the gateway:

As we came into the village, Mum and I were pleased to spy signs directing us to a craft fair, and we wandered along past the duck pond towards the school house, which today was playing host to a variety of stalls selling hand-made gifts and local produce. Although I was tempted by a very cute little pair of turquoise and purple wrist warmers, I didn't actually buy anything, although it was fun to browse the tables and admire the workmanship on display. After exploring this unexpected little distraction, we were starting to feel rather peckish. Happily, the Hall's former coach house has been converted into a wonderful tea room...

... so we wandered back over the road to enjoy a lovely ploughman's lunch -- plates filled with delicious thick-cut ham from the village butcher, and yummy chunks of Stilton and Cheddar with a scrumptious home-made chutney for a bit of extra kick.

The Old Coach House was doing a good business, full of Bank Holiday visitors who were enjoying the Easter sunshine: walkers in their wax jackets and wellies with shiny-eyed dogs at their heels, and parents laughing with their children as they paddled together in the stream that runs through the village. This stream flows down the main street towards the pond, passing through the main well in the village on the way. There are six wells altogether in Tissington, and the village is known for its well dressing ceremony, which takes place every year in May. As you can see from these photos of the well dressing celebrations in 2000, the flower displays are often very intricate:

People come from far and wide to see the well dressing, and I remember going as a little girl, and loving the bright colours and beautiful floral pictures. Although there were no such works of art to admire today, the village was still looking very pretty, with its daffodils and snowdrops creeping through the grass. Sadly I still haven't got round to buying a new camera, so I can't share any photos of today's blooms, nor of the woolly little lambs who were frisking and gamboling in the fields across the wall!

Tissington is home to a couple of great little shops, but unfortunately neither of them was open today, which seemed like a bit of a missed opportunity. Normally I enjoy popping in for a look around the candle workshop, with its displays of beautiful wax creations, although as I have a couple at home already, it's probably no bad thing I couldn't be tempted by any more! I particularly like the hurricane candles, which have beautiful flowers trapped beneath the wax. With a little tea light popped inside, the effect is utterly charming. I have one quite similar to these two sitting just across from me in my bedroom as I type:

The other shop is a wonderful little treasure trove called Acanthus, which sells beautiful homewares, lighting, and gifts. I was rather disappointed not to be able to call in there today, but no doubt there'll be other opportunities!

All in all it was a lovely breath of fresh air, and I always enjoy the drive through Derbyshire, as the countryside starts becoming wilder and hills and peaks start appearing. After a rather hectic end to term, I was more than glad of a chance to blow the cobwebs away. I'll be sharing some more stories from the start of my break before long, but for the moment at least, Sir W may well say of me (to take a few words from his 1601 essay 'Of Natures pollicie') that I have:

'arriued at some good end of her trauailes'.

Of Kitty Cooper

2010-03-18T17:35:00.012Z

I think anyone who has cast even a casual glance over my blog will have probably realised that I Like Shoes. A Lot. You can imagine my delight, therefore, when I made a new footwear discovery this morning. Thanks to the treasure trove that is Daily Candy, I have made the acquaintance of Kitty Cooper and her wonderfully glamourous shoes. Kitty Cooper graduated with a first-class degree from the Cordwainer's Institute (part of the London College of Fashion), and has since set up her own business designing stunning shoes which are produced in an eco-friendly way. Now, I don't know about you, but when I think of eco-friendly fashion, my heart always sinks just a little bit, as my imagination conjures up images of tired looking, tie-died t-shirts or dresses made from straw with a belt of chewed up string. Recently, however, I've been forced to think again, not least thanks to Livia Firth's blog for British Vogue recounting her experiences dressing for the red carpet (Livia is the wife of Colin Firth) using only ethically produced, eco-friendly fashion. As you can see from the stunning dress by Orsola de Castro that she wore to the Oscars the other weekend, Livia has shown that one certainly doesn't need to forego style when salving one's conscience:

To be honest, the fact that Kitty Cooper's shoes are produced from recycled materials (such as vintage curtains, buttons, and cottons salvaged from the 1910s through to the 1960s), is -- for me -- merely an added bonus compared to their sheer gorgeousness. Her collection is only fairly small, but some of the designs are available in more than one pattern or colour combination.

These, made from a 1960s cotton, are ridiculously sweet for a summer's day:

Chovey, £245

These just conjure up pictures of garden parties and summer fetes: what could be more fun than matching the strawberries you're about to pop in your mouth with a couple on your toes? Just be careful not to get stuck in the grass with those killer heels:

Ginnie, £269

If you want to make a statement, this shocking pink and green combo would be a good way to go about it...

Nanti, £255

... while if you can cope with the towering heels, the breezy blue of this 1950s pattern would be a refreshing look on a summer's day:

Didicoy, £325

I am more than a little in love with the beautiful floral print on these little stunners...

Luke, £280

... while the naughty nautical style of these makes me think they're something the girls at Crumpet & Skirt would wear...

Rich, £325

... and this amazing pair with their 1910 ribbons would really make sure you stood out from the crowd:

Rose Lee, £319

Sadly, my excitement has been tempered slightly by the rather hefty price tags attached to these beautiful creations, so I think they may have to remain in the lust-after category, rather than filling one of the empty spots in my summer shoe closet. Even if buying them would be helping save the planet (well, ok, not quite). Still, a girl can dream, even if (to quote Sir W in his 1601 essay 'Of Complements) my purse won't quite stretch to

'the lengthning of my joyes, not a foote'.

Of Janet Hill Studio

2010-03-17T17:18:00.016Z

I've fallen a little bit in love with Etsy over the past few months, and I thought I'd share with you one of the reasons why. I bought this beautiful print from Janet Hill Studio at the end of last year, and I'm not quite sure why it's taken me so long to get around to telling you about it:

I adore the muted colours, and the 1920s style of the outfit and hairstyle remind me of the divine Phryne Fisher, heroine of the wonderfully fun series of books by Kerry Greenwood, which have beautiful covers illustrated by the very talented Beth Norling:

I can just picture Phryne doing a spot of feather fan dancing!

I was also very pleased with a little pack of Christmas cards I picked up at the same time as the print:

I still need to buy a mount and frame for my print, and I can't wait to see what it's going to look like once it's up on the wall. I've also been browsing the Etsy shop again, and getting tempted to buy a companion piece (or two. Or three). There are some simply gorgeous prints for sale at the moment. I love the blurred, slightly dream-like quality of this one:

These two are both charming, and make me laugh as not even I am (quite) this bad when it comes to dressing for a walk in the country:

I am drawn to both the coolness of nighttime in Manhattan...

... and to the warmth of this picnic in the sun:

This one, entitled 'Elise sips Pastis in Montreal'...

... reminds me somehow of Edward Hopper and his famous depictions of cafe scenes and women in empty rooms:

Hopper is a favourite artist of mine (I really enjoyed an exhibition of his work at Tate Modern a few years ago), and although Janet Hill's work is much lighter in atmosphere, something of the melancholy wistfulness of Hopper's style finds traces in some of Hill's most beautiful paintings:

I love the poignancy of this one -- 'Anthea's Party' -- and the way, as with the rest of Hill's work, you can conjure up an entire story from just one image. This one reminds me too of the work of Marie Laurencin, whose paintings I discovered whilst on holiday in Paris just over a year ago. If you happen to be in Paris, make sure you go to the wonderful Musee de l'Orangerie in the Jardin des Tuileries, and if you do, don't just stop at the gigantic Monet waterlillies on the ground floor, although they are spectacular...

... but wend your way downstairs to see the smaller gems they have hidden away in the basement, like this stunning portrait of Coco Chanel by Laurencin:

I was very excited to discover that prints of this picture are available to buy, and I think one might have to wing its way towards me before too long! But I'll still have room for another one of Janet Hill's, I think. The only problem is deciding which one, for, to quote Sir W in his 1601 essay 'Of Trappes for Fame', I sadly can't quite afford to be one of those people who

'spendeth all his treasure in painting'.

Of Seeing in the Spring

2010-03-16T22:58:00.010Z

Well, the sunny weather has stayed with us over much of the fortnight (*ahem*) since I promised to get back to posting on here! Today was particularly balmy, and so I enjoyed trying out a new outfit to welcome in the Spring (it will probably be raining again tomorrow, but for today, it's definitely springtime). When my mum visited Oxford a couple of weeks ago, I was excited to find that as a treat she'd brought along a dress and cardigan that she'd picked up for me in one of my favourite shops: Boutique Eleven at the Heart of the Country Shopping Village, just ten minutes down the road from where I live in Staffordshire. A rather large number of the items in my wardrobe (no, we won't ask just how many items there are) come from this charming little shop. As they stock a range of really beautiful and unusual clothes, I seem to get complimented whenever I wear anything I've bought from there -- always a plus. I try to pop in whenever I'm at home, and the lovely lady who runs the shop knows me well enough by now to have an eye for exactly what I'm going to like, and because she usually only gets one of everything in each size, she's often kind enough to keep something back for me if she knows I'm coming up for a visit. Oh, the temptation... So this afternoon, I revelled in sitting in Duke Humfrey's with the sunshine streaming through the old windows and warming my skin in this little number from Sandwich:

It's actually slightly more fitted than it appears on the mannequin, and the streaks of cream and blue lighten up the different shades of brown to give it a real lift: I felt like I should be strolling along a beach in the sunshine eating an ice-cream while I wore it. When the occasional shadow did pass across my desk, I quickly whipped out this cardigan, also by Sandwich:

The photo really doesn't do it justice: in reality, the sludgy grey that appears in this picture is actually a delicious teal to match the stripes in the dress, and it's perfect for a bit of casual cover whenever I am forced to remember that it is still only March. The fact that the cardigan is actually a little bit longer than the dress it's going over also gives a slightly sexier edge to what can often be thought of as a rather boring item of clothing!

Sandwich has become a favourite label of mine since I started shopping at Boutique Eleven: their clothes are always fresh and pretty, and are a great choice for basics with a twist. I discarded my usual heels for once and teamed my new outfit with this cute little pair of flats from Marks and Spencer: I love the combination of camel and black, the patent is practical as well as stylish, and I've spoken before about the fact that I'm a sucker for anything with a bow on it. Sadly I could only find this tiny photo to show you:

I *still* haven't got a new camera sorted out, and, much as I've enjoyed embracing the retro chic of the disposable version (yes, I was pretty amazed to discover they still make them, too), I'm looking forward to getting my hands on something a little more up-to-date. Job for this week, perhaps...

I'll be sharing some more of my favourite fashions with you soon (including the leggings which may make me -- and I never thought I'd write this -- overcome my innate aversion to anything remotely resembling a pair of footless tights). I'm also going to be talking quite a lot about food and drink (never a bad thing, I feel), not to mention flagging up some favourite new websites and blogs and telling you about some recent film and theatre trips. In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed for more of this lovely sunshine -- I want the excuse to bring out some more of my Winter to Spring wardrobe. After all, to give you another weather-related quote from Sir W (this time from his 1600 essay 'Of Aduise'):

'from the Rayes of this sun proceed all blessings'.

Of Getting Back to Business

2010-03-01T21:44:00.005Z

February, as you can plainly see, was a bit of a black hole where my blog was concerned! March has arrived now, and rather than being 'in like a lion, out like a lamb', as the old saying has it, we have been enjoying a beautifully spring-like, blue-skied day here in Oxford. No post today, but rather a promise that I will be resuming normal service from now on...

Until tomorrow! And let's hope with Sir W (in his 1601 essay 'Of Estimation and Reputation') that for a few days at least, we continue to see the sun

'dispersing his Rayes ouer the world'.

Of The BookBook

2010-01-24T17:54:00.010Z

Part of the reason I've decided I should start doing some more exercise (hence the pole dancing, *ahem*) is my fear that, thanks to spending the majority of my days hunched over a desk, I am going to turn into a wizened, hump-backed old crone before I hit thirty. It's not just brooding over my books that worries me, either, but also the process of hauling my reading material and laptop to the library in the first place. With my bulging laptop case slung across me, I go along the street veering to one side like a sailing ship struggling against a strong breeze, so actually it's perhaps not my back I need to worry about, but rather one shoulder ending up about five inches higher than the other.

It's not just the physical discomfort that troubles me, however, but also just the inescapable ugliness of my laptop case, which is a very plain, functional black one into which no aesthetic thought has been put whatsoever. I've been thinking for some time about buying something rather prettier to replace it, and having come across these MacBook covers (known as the BookBook) from design company Twelve South, I wonder if my search might be over before it's even started. Twelve South designs accessories exclusively for Mac users, of which I am one (and a very happy convert since my move to my shiny new MacBook at the start of my D.Phil), and I came across them thanks to the ever-wonderful India Knight's Posterous. Do take a look at India Knight's site if you haven't already, by the way, as it's a wonderful source of shopping/present-buying/design/generally tempting information. I also heartily recommend her lovely book The Shops, which is a fantastic shopping guide but also happens to be very well-written and funny. How can you go wrong with a woman who is a fan of Georgette Heyer, the Officina Profumo Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella, and eyebrow threading. Anything she suggests is going to be worth checking out (well, ok, she did recommend Ugg Boots in her book, I suppose, but nobody's perfect).

Anyway, to get back to the BookBooks. They're just the right side of kitsch and you can probably tell right away why I like them:

BookBook MacBook cover, $79.99

The inside is all soft and snuggly to cushion your precious little MacBook and the covers are hard and tough to protect it from harm. The website suggests that one of the benefits is that the covers also disguise your MacBook and therefore make it less subject to theft. I'm not sure this would work for me, however: in the circles I move in, something that looks like an old book is probably more vulnerable to wandering hands than a spanking new laptop!

The only problem, of course, is that the BookBook is only a protective cover: I'd still need something to put it in to transport it and my books to and fro. So even if I were to give in to temptation with this little fellow, I'd still be able to seek out a pretty laptop travel case as well. Isn't that what's known as a win-win situation? In any case, surely I can't go wrong in buying something called a BookBook, for, as Sir W said in his 1600 essay 'Of the Obseruation, and vse of things',

'all kindes of bookes are profitable'.

Of Crumpet & Skirt

2010-01-14T17:22:00.013Z

Perhaps it's the whole pole dancing thing that's drawn me to the wonderful range at Crumpet & Skirt (is that not the most amazing company name?). I've only just come across them, but already I absolutely adore all of the products for sale in their online shop, and I think it's only a matter of time before some of their pin-up beauties wing their way towards my letter box. So far, you can choose between mugs, cards, wrapping paper, and even a tea towel, all decorated with saucy images of glamorous pin-up girls from the 1940s and '50s. All the girls are named after the film stars that the company's creator -- Elizabeth Pinnock -- thinks they most resemble, from Marilyn Monroe through to Veronica Lake.

I'm sad that I didn't discover the site in time for Christmas, as I'd have loved to have sent this coquettish Santa's Little Helper through the post:

Santa Baby Greetings Card, £1.50

Perhaps I'll make the most of the post-Christmas sale and take advantage of the fact that a pack of five is now only £6. After all, there's nothing like being well prepared. In the meantime, of course, I could always go for the non-festive version:

Rita Greetings Card, £2.49

Although I'm awfully tempted by this blonde beauty with her slinky long black gloves -- always a glamourous accessory for any girl, but this lady takes things to a whole new level:

Veronica Greetings Card, £2.49

It's so hard to decide between the various vintage lovelies that to stop my head from exploding with the effort, I might just be forced to go for this set of four designs:

Greeting Cards Set, £10

The lovely Veronica is also available decorating a tea towel, and this Tease Maid would be a great way to turn up the heat in the kitchen:

Veronica Tea Towel, £6.49

Just in case you're looking for something to dry with that towel, you could do a lot worse than this cheeky little Peek-A-Boo mug, which I loved on sight. Its pure white exterior looks extremely innocent, but I'd love to see the look on your guest's face when they finish their tea and find the naughty little surprise awaiting them at the bottom:

Sophia Peek-A-Boo Mug, £7.49

And don't worry, I'm not completely selfish -- as well as lusting after all of these for myself, I also think they'd make really fun gifts. After all, I need an excuse to buy some of this divine wrapping paper, don't I?

Pin-Up Wrapping Paper (4 sheets), £8

If only I could tie bows so neatly!

I'm certain that fun-loving Sir W would have been charmed to receive a card with one of these lovely ladies decorating the front. In his 1600 essay 'Of Resolution', he describes

'the strange alterations of men vpon slight occasions, at the receit of a letter, yea, before the reading'.

If the post contained one of Crumpet & Skirt's cards, I think it would be easy enough to understand why no reading would be necessary!

Of Amsterdam

2010-01-13T16:13:00.021Z

I spent some time whilst getting dressed this morning admiring my bruises. I have a lovely big one on my right knee, a couple of smaller ones on my right shin, and a little one threatening to develop on my right arm. Not to mention the slight graze to my left knee. They say that pole dancing makes you feel like a new woman. Well, it certainly does, although in my case the woman is about ninety years old. I can barely raise my arms above my head, my upper body doesn't know what hit it, and my wrists are sore with the memory of clinging onto the pole for dear life with trembling hands. But my Monday evening's entree into the world of pole dancing was tremendous fun, and I simply can't wait for the next lesson! I'll be posting properly about the delights of my new interest next week, after session number two, when hopefully I'll begin to show slightly more mastery of the 'attitude', the 'dip and flick', and other wonderfully-named moves...

For now, however, I want to take you all back to the weekend before Christmas, when I took a trip to Amsterdam to visit a Dutch friend who's now working as a lawyer there. I'd never been to Amsterdam before, but had heard many good things about the city from friends. I was also looking forward to visiting my friend, as we hadn't seen each other since she left Oxford in the summer (she was also a graduate student at New College last year). My journey out to Amsterdam was smooth, as I left an Oxford lightly dusted with snow with little thought of what those wicked little flakes foretold. I had decided to take the Eurostar to Brussels, and the train to Amsterdam from there: a quick and easy journey. I was delayed for a couple of hours in Brussels, which was a pain, but -- looking back -- seemed like nothing! But this is getting ahead of myself...

I arrived at Amsterdam's central station to find my friend waiting for me, and once our excited greetings were over we made our way via tram (I always get excited by trams when I'm abroad!) across the already snowy streets to her lovely flat, which was looking nicely festive thanks to this cute little tree:

After we'd freshened up, we popped round the corner to Simpel, where we both enjoyed a delicious duck confit. The evening was spent eating, drinking, and chatting into the small hours: perfect.

Now, when this friend and I were both in Oxford together last year, she was my (now oft-lamented) wonderful shopping companion on some particularly successful trips to Bicester. Consequently, we were both looking forward to renewing our retail relationship in Amsterdam. We awoke on the Saturday morning to find the city even whiter than it had been the night before, but it would take more than a little snow to keep us away from the shops. So we pulled on hats (bemoaning the inevitable 'hat-hair' that would result) and gloves and headed out into the cold. Their icy decorations just made the lovely old houses lining the canals look even prettier...

... and we paused to admire some of the bridges criss-crossing the water, glad now of our warm head-gear:

My friend led me to the wonderful area of the city known as the Nine Streets, a beautiful grid of (yes, you guessed it) nine narrow streets which cross one another and the canal, and are lined with lovely boutiques, cafes, and other little shopping gems. I was particularly taken with the look of this cheesemongers...

... while the Christmas treats on sale in the bakeries we passed looked extremely tempting:

As good as all this food looked, however, we were both extremely excited to once again be trying on clothes together, and the old chemistry clicked into place immediately, as we both found would-be purchases in the very first shop we went into (after trying on half its contents, of course). Aware that spending all our money before we'd even seen what anywhere else had to offer (even though they were ON SALE), we reluctantly put the gorgeously-cute-purple-with-flowers-and-bows-yet-sophisticated-dress (me) and deliciously-warm-and-soft-and-pretty-and-loveliest-shade-of-green-ever-cardigan-wrap (my friend) back on their hangers. The very nice ladies in the shop, understanding our dilemma, offered to hold them for us while we had more of a look around. We enjoyed pottering around some of the other boutiques, trying on some other tempting bits and pieces, but by the time we sat down in a lovely cafe for a much-needed sandwich and hot drink, we had both become convinced of our Absolute Need for the aforementioned items and rushed back to claim what was obviously Rightfully Ours just as soon as we'd licked the last of our lunch from our fingers.

Day turned into evening, and we were charmed by the Christmas lights which sprang up all over:

I particularly fell in love with this little lot, leaping off the prow of one of the many barges along the canal, so that one might almost imagine it gliding up into the air after them:

We stopped off for a scrummy glass of gluhwein, to keep us going before our main meal, which was at fun and trendy restaurant Stout!. Apparently 'stout' in Dutch means 'naughty', and the restaurant enjoyed making the most of the potential for double jokes on this with the English captions like 'Proud to be Stout!' on the back of the waiters' and waitresses' t-shirts. The set-piece of the house is the tasting menu -- the Plateau Stout! -- which gives you ten little dishes for an incredibly reasonable €29.50 (€35 if you want dessert tasters too). Although my friend and I opted to choose from the normal menu, the tasting platters did look great, and were extremely popular with diners around us. I had plumped for beef, which was absolutely fantastic, and I'd definitely be keen to re-visit Stout! for some more of their quirky takes on classic dishes on my next trip to Amsterdam.

We rounded off the evening by meeting my friend's brother at the aptly named Bubbles & Wine champagne bar just off Dam Square, where we enjoyed wine 'flights' (three half glasses) of some delicious Spanish reds:

By this time, the temperature had plummeted to -10, so we were glad of a warming alcohol blanket as we headed homewards, managing to stop shaking just long enough to pose for a quick picture with our shopping bags on the deserted Dam Square (everywhere, from the shops, to the bars, was quiet that weekend, which was surprising when Christmas was almost upon us. Although not so surprising when one considered the weather, which was bitter enough to keep most sane-minded people indoors, however many festive party-pieces they had yet to buy):

By this time, we'd heard the reports of trains being stuck in the Channel Tunnel, and I could only thank my stars that I'd missed the misery of sixteen hours beneath the ocean (and by only a few hours!), but we weren't yet feeling unduly concerned, and went to bed dreaming happily of our purchases.

The next morning dawned whiter than ever, and the first whispers of real misgiving crept into my mind as I listened to tales of cancellations of trains and flights and grumpy passengers freezing as they waited to find out how they were going to get home for Christmas. Shelving such concerns for the time being, however, my friend and I set off on a merry walk to the Van Gogh Museum, a slippery twenty-minutes away from the flat.

On the way we passed a one-street version of the Red Light District, and I must admit that my only thought upon seeing all the ladies in their lingerie posing inside their light-lined windows was how very cold the sight of their scantily clad bodies made me feel with all the snow outside! The Museum itself was well-worth the icy walk, and I particularly appreciated seeing the paintings alongside Van Gogh's letters, as the journey from preliminary sketch (often contained within letters to friends and family) to final piece was fascinating to behold. It's made me even more eager to visit the forthcoming Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy, which I'm hoping to do soon after it opens later this month. As its title -- The Real Van Gogh: The Artist and his Letters -- suggests, it should provide a lot more of just what I found so interesting in Amsterdam.

When we'd had our culture fix, we headed into Amsterdam's main park, where we joined what seemed like half of the city's population, all out enjoying a Sunday in the snow, with toboggans and snowmen around every corner. I'd like to say we built these two with our own fair hands, but that would be a lie!

The park also provided my friend with the perfect opportunity to introduce me to a Dutch delicacy: raw herring. And, more importantly, to the traditional way of eating it:

Yum! And the day's culinary delights were far from over, as we stopped off at a nearby patisserie for some seriously delicious tea and cake before heading home:

That evening my friend made a yummy and traditional Dutch dish of sausage accompanied by mashed curly kale and potatoes, and we settled down to an evening of Oxford nostalgia with an episode of the ever- wonderful Inspector Morse.

I certainly needed both the comfort food and comfort TV, as by this point, I had had to well and truly face up to the fact that however I was going to get home, it wasn't going to be by train, as all international trains out of Amsterdam had been cancelled thanks to the blanket of snow now covering the country; in any case, even if I'd made it back to Brussels, the Eurostar was still in turmoil, with all services cancelled until further notice. After frantically checking flights, and then deciding against them (£400 for a single trip which would quite likely be cancelled anyway? I don't think so!), I was just beginning to wonder whether I'd be spending my first Christmas in the Netherlands when my friend suggested I could always take the boat. Yes, that's right: The Boat. A quick search revealed a ferry leaving from Hook van Holland at 2.30pm the next day. I would arrive in Harwich, a no doubt amiable enough spot of whose existence I was, until that moment, completely ignorant. I booked my passage.

My final morning dawned; we rushed to the window: it wasn't snowing! This at least boded well for my trip south to the port, as my real dread had been waking to find a heavy blizzard and all trains cancelled. After saying goodbye to my friend (already looking forward to another visit in the hopefully better weather of the summer!), I struck off into the snow. Buying my train ticket, I was instructed to go to the airport, and from there, catch whatever train I could going south, to Leiden, Rotterdam, or The Hague, with the hopes of being able to travel from there to Hook van Holland without too many changes inbetween. I caught the airport train at 9.30, imagining that five hours was surely enough time to make what was usually an hour and a half's journey. Arriving at the airport, I was cheered to see a train for Rotterdam due to leave in an hour's time, so settled down with a cup of coffee. An hour passed, but my train didn't come. Cancelled. But there was one due for Leiden twenty minutes later. Cancelled. This went on for two and a half hours. Just as I had become convinced that I would be spending Christmas in the airport, a train for Rotterdam drew up on the platform. As luck would have it a set of doors opened right in front of me and I was able to spring on and grab a seat (my flailing suitcase as I did so probably helping to keep other passengers nicely out of the way), rather than having to spend the journey standing like so many poor people, as what seemed like hundreds of travellers crammed themselves on. I congratulated myself on this, and turned to ask my neighbour if he knew how long the journey might take. He predicted that, in these conditions, it would be something like an hour and a half. An Hour And A Half. AN HOUR AND A HALF. My new-found optimism vanished as I realised that if this were the case, I would be lucky to make it to Rotterdam by 2.30, let alone to the boat. I sank back against the window, and resigned myself to the thought of hanging around a port for the afternoon whilst waiting for the nightboat, which was due to leave at 8pm. Giving myself up to Fate, I watched the white landscape go by.

Fate was, it seems, looking kindly upon me that day, for as we pulled into Schiedam Centraal, I happened to glance out of the window towards the adjoining platform. Imagine my JOY to behold a board informing me that a train to Hook van Holland was due to leave from that very station in only five minutes! I frantically scooped my things together, wriggled through the carriage, and jumped onto the platform, where I spent the next five minutes with my fingers crossed very tightly indeed. The train came, and the destination list inside informed me I should be at the port at 14.14. For the second time in ten minutes I risked my circulation by crossing my fingers more tightly together than ever.

I stumbled, breathless, to the check-in desk, together with a few other stragglers, at 2.25pm.

Stenaline kindly held the ferry back until 3, in order to give a few other late-comers chance to get on, and by the time we left, my breath had returned, my legs had stopped shaking, and I was ensconced on a reclining chair in the private lounge (well worth an extra €16!), with a glass of wine and some chocolate, ready to face the SEVEN AND A HALF HOUR journey across the grey sea. I raised my glass to my decision to make this the trip to finally get to grips with Forever Amber (I knew there was a reason I never got round to reading its 1000 pages when I lugged it all the way to first the Chalet, and then Greece last summer), and settled myself down to a thorough enjoyment of Amber's exploits, which kept me completely entertained (with the odd break for food) until we arrived at Harwich. I resisted the desire to fall on bended knee and kiss the soil of my native ground, and made my way to the train station. After half an hour standing about in the cold (but hey, I had totally got the hang of this whole waiting about on platforms thing), the train appeared, its magical destination of LONDON blazoned on the front. I finally rolled up in the capital at 11pm, jumped into a taxi, and made my way to the Dorchester, where I met a friend who had been following my progress via text message, and who gave me the exact welcome back I needed by buying me cocktails and listening to my woes.

What a journey! Still, the holiday was definitely worth it, and I can't wait to return to Amsterdam to visit my friend again, although -- pretty as it was -- I could quite happily live without seeing it in its coat of snow! There's no record of Sir W ever visiting Holland, but it seems like he would have enjoyed a trip there, as this extract from his 1600 essay 'Of Resolution' suggests he shared the received idea that the Dutch would have made good companions in one of his favourite activities, drinking:

'I will hauke with a faulkoner, hunt with hunters, talke of Husbandrie with the seruants of Thrift: bee amorous with the Italian, and drinke with the Dutch man'.

Of Being Out With The Old...

2010-01-11T16:10:00.018Z

...and in with the new. A belated Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful and peaceful Christmas and that 2010 has started well. I had a simply lovely time over the holiday, spending Christmas Day itself with my mum in the heart of a beautifully frosty Gloucestershire. Rather than stay at home for Christmas, we decided to take ourselves off to the Priory Inn in Tetbury, renowned for its excellent, locally sourced food. The restaurant has a 30 mile food policy, meaning that 90% of its ingredients come from nearby farmers. As they are just down the road from Highgrove, we were spoilt with scrumptious Duchy vegetables from the Home Farm there, to accompany the melt-in-the-mouth pigeon I had for a starter, and the truly delicious venison I chose for my main course. After the mock Christmas Day my friends and I had enjoyed in Oxford before the vacation, I felt I'd already had enough turkey to satisfy my seasonal craving! I was also happy to have the chance to show off a new dress I'd bought just before Christmas -- part of the collection designed by Coast only for sale in their outlets inside Debenhams. The meek and mild front...

... makes the pretty draped back a nice surprise, giving it an elegantly mischievous frisson which appealed to me:

I always love the chance to get dressed up, and Christmas is a great excuse as we toasted the season with some local (and surprisingly nice!) bubbly. I was also pleased to toast a particularly successful present haul, as I opened pretty parcels to find jewelry, gloves, a new watch, various other bits and pieces, as well as my current reading material -- Saplings by Noel Streatfeild -- and, some tokens of the best kind: one from the marvellous Persephone Books, to feed my grey cover fetish once Saplings is done with, and also some theatre tokens, which I'll be able to exchange for tickets to one or two of the many productions I want to see this year! Wonderful! Long-term readers might also be interested to know that my presents also included some of the beautiful travel guides from The Little Bookroom I wrote about here, and *all* of the beautiful items from Fey Handmade I lusted after here, courtesy of my lovely grandfather, who has obviously been keeping a weather eye on this blog! Thank you again, Grampa!

Boxing Day was spent with family back in Staffordshire, and so the festive season was a perfect combination of good food, relaxation, and good company. I was only at home for a week, which was just enough to refresh me before returning to Oxford just before the New Year, when an American friend was visiting from Los Angeles. He and I and another friend travelled together to London on New Year's Eve, joined by others to see in 2010 at another friend's flat there. We were all thrilled when it actually started snowing bang on the dot of midnight, as we crowded onto the balcony to watch the fireworks over the dark sky. Sadly my camera broke almost on the stroke of midnight as well, so the snowflakes were lost to posterity (this sad calamity also means my blog might be a little sparse when it comes to pictures while I get a new camera sorted out. Sigh).

I was particularly excited on New Year's Day, as my friends and I were -- as I mentioned in my last post -- off to see the much touted production of The Misanthrope at the Comedy Theatre that evening.

As I think I mentioned before, I was particularly eager to see Damian Lewis on stage, and I am glad to say I wasn't disappointed. He had tremendous energy and presence, and made a wonderful Alceste. Obviously the main draw for many in the audience was Keira Knightley, in her widely publicised theatre debut. Personally, I thought she was fine, but nothing more, and her American accent was unfortunately terribly distracting, and at times rather wavering (as my American friend, who is a BIG fan of KK, was forced to admit). She did, however, have a couple of very nice outfits! I particularly liked the 1930s-style silky black jumpsuit and black and gold drapey cardigan she wore in the first act, which you can see a detail of here:

The play itself, a modern reworking by Martin Crimp, sped along at a zipping, zinging pace, with the rhyming couplets flowing easily from most of the cast, as it rushed through its slim two hour running time (this included the interval -- it's a while since I've been out of an evening performance by 9.30!). I've never read Moliere's original, and seeing this really made me want to, so at some point I'll have to seek it out (although the sad state of my French means I'll probably be forced to read it in translation, unless I'm feeling very virtuous. And have a lot of spare time).

Since then, I've been back in Oxford, which has looked beautiful under the deepest covering of snow I've ever seen here. I can't believe my camera has died at such an inopportune moment! Still, I must admit I have been spending quite a large proportion of my time tucked up indoors, drinking much hot tea and snuggling under blankets, as (you may not be surprised to hear this) my footwear collection is not really very compatible with the icy conditions! It turns out that the only shoes or boots I have which have any tread on the soles at all (excluding, of course, The Walking Boots, which are huddled at the back of a cupboard at home -- little did I think I might have need of them away from the alpine slopes) are my new knee-high boots. Which have heels. Chunkyish heels, sure, but still heels, which is enough to make many passers-by give me sidelong glances and a wide berth as they wait for what they assume is the inevitable graceless topple. Luckily, this hasn't happened yet, and I am convinced that heels and tread is infinitely safer than flats and smooth sole. In comfort, I also draw upon my demonstrable (and long-honed skill) of walking in Adverse Weather Conditions in surprising footwear, rembering that skirmishofwit and I survived a three day sojourn in Paris last December without any mishap, despite the fact that we were both trotting (well, okay, Very Slowly Edging Our Way Along) over the icy pavements in ankle boots with, shall we say, heels of a height which might make some people question whether I truly do suffer from vertigo. Saying all this, I shall probably leave the library today and fall flat. Well, just as long as I don't damage my laptop!

Although I sincerely hope I don't injure myself before this evening, as tonight I am ... DRUM ROLL ... having my very first Pole Dancing Lesson. Yes, that's right: pole dancing. Two friends and I are going along tonight to be initiated into its wonders, having being reassured by another friend who is already a fan that it is excellent exercise, a great confidence booster, and quite simply a fabulously sexy and fun thing to do. We'll see! If I can move enough tomorrow to drag myself to my laptop, I'll be giving a report on my first experience. Talking of which, I'd better go, as my friend and I are meeting up shortly to buy some hotpants which, for some reason, neither of us happened to have lying around our wardrobes already...

Although my posts have never been entirely regular, I've so much enjoyed having my blog over the tail end of 2009, and I look forward to continuing with it this year. And what better start to 2010's blogging than to find that I've been given A Lovely Blog Award!

Many thanks to Karen at BookBath for this! The idea of the award is that if you receive one, you then give it to others, so I'll be nominating some lovely blogs of my own over the next couple of days, as well as sharing with you tales from snowy Amsterdam, and a few other bits and pieces. I can't wait! Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting over the last few months -- I never thought that anyone I didn't actually know would ever read what I wrote, and it's added so much to my enjoyment to 'talk' to you all in the comments section!

Rather than leaving you with the usual quotation from Sir W, I thought some of you might like to see this wonderful engraving from the 1632 edition of his Essayes, by Thomas Cecill. There is an old story that the two men are Sir W and his father, Sir Charles, but as they look more like twins than father and son, this hardly seems the case. So sadly it brings us no closer to knowing what Sir W looked like, although that he was wonderfully dashing seems unquestionable. Well, through my rose-tinted eyes, anyway...

Of All Good Wishes

2009-12-28T22:48:00.005Z

It's been such a long time since I last posted! December has been a wonderful, if chaotic month, but I wanted to tie up a couple of loose ends before beginning blogging properly again in the new year.

Firstly, I am ashamed that it has taken me so long to reveal my Persephone Secret Santa! I was so excited to take part in Book Psmith's project, but on the reveal date, December 15th, I was taking part in a pretend Christmas Day which a friend put on at his flat (champagne at 11am, full Christmas lunch, Pictionary, Gone With The Wind, walk to the pub, It's A Wonderful Life: bliss!) and didn't get chance to post. Since then I have been busy with end of year festivities in Oxford, followed by a trip to snowbound Amsterdam.

This was a wonderful visit which included Van Gogh, raw herrings, handbags, and an unexpected seven and a half hour boat ride back home across the cold seas... But it needs a post to itself, so I'll be blogging about my trip in due course.

But to return to my Persephone Secret Santa. My Santa turned out to be Simon of Stuck In A Book, which was particularly fortuitous as we are both based in Oxford. Consequently, Simon suggested we meet up for him to deliver my present, so I was very excited to be able to meet another blogger for real, as it were! We met up some time ago now, and I couldn't resist opening my present almost straight away, to find one of the Persephones I've most lusted after waiting for me: Tea for Mr Rochester by Frances Towers. I read it immediately, and it certainly didn't let me down. The stories are magical and eerie, finely drawn and cleverly done, and images from many of them have stayed with me. I hope to write a proper review shortly, and the book certainly deserves one. I enjoyed the book so much that, I decided to send it to my own Secret Santa recipient: Danielle of Leaning Towards the Sun, who has blogged about ithere: I hope she enjoys it as much as I did!

Thank you again, Simon, for such a wonderful gift, and to Stacy at Book Psmith for organising such a great event.

I am going back to Oxford on Wednesday, and from there to London on New Year's Eve to usher in 2010 in the company of some good friends. On New Year's Day, a few of us are going to see The Misanthrope at the Comedy Theatre, which seems to me a very good way to see in the new decade.

I'll be giving a full report on Keira Knightley's stage debut afterwards (although personally I am much more interested in seeing the excellent Damian Lewis on stage!).

I'll be back to blogging properly at the start of next week, after my return to Oxford, when I'll be filling you in on my end of year activities, and sharing some thoughts about what's occupying me as we move into 2010. In the meantime, I hope you all had a wonderful festive season, and that you have an enchanting New Year's Eve. A belated Merry Christmas, and all the best for 2010! I leave off today with some words from Sir W's 1601 essay 'Of Iustice', and hope that, although the season may be cold, it has also been one of

'Peace (the nourishing warmthe) by whose rayes, states stretch out their armes, and enioye a perpetuall summer'.

Of Steampunk

2009-12-04T16:49:00.015Z

I am, rather naughtily, writing this at my desk in Duke Humfrey's, feeling in need of something rather less academic than a 1612 treatise on education to ease me back into working. I got back only half an hour ago from lunch with my mum and a friend of hers at Brasserie Blanc in Jericho. This is one of Raymond Blanc's restaurants, and although he now has a chain of them, the food is always excellent, and it is a good choice for when a trip to the rather more extravagant Le Manoir Aux Quat' Saisons isn't on the menu. (I have been to the latter twice now, once on my twenty-first birthday, and then for my mum's birthday the following year. Heavenly setting and, as you would expect for its two Michelin star rating, simply delicious food). Today I enjoyed some lovely mussels to start, followed by duck in a winter berry sauce, accompanied by some Kir and then some red wine. So you can see why I'm not exactly in the mood for studying, and am already looking forward to my trip with friends this evening to see A Serious Man at the Phoenix Picture House.

For now, however, I am casting my mind back to last Sunday, when, after a yummy lunch with friends at the wonderful Edamame, a couple of us went (via coffee and book browsing at Blackwells) to see the Steampunk exhibition at the Museum of the History of Science just across the road.

Steampunk is an intriguing mixture of old and new, as innovative artists imagine how modern technology might have looked had it been created using the science of Victorian times (I know, complicated). Thus, we were led into a zany, magical land full of objects that seemed straight out of a wonderful and darkly mysterious fairy-tale. This 'eye-pod' was one of my favourite comic reinterpretations of a modern classic:

I also loved the fantastical masks and goggles which are a common feature of Steampunk art:

I loved the Gothic look of some of the pieces, such as this intricate clock, where the machinery isn't hidden, but rather becomes an intrinsic part of its visual appeal:

Some of the workmanship on display was spectacular. This photograph doesn't really do justice to the amazing achievement of the craftsman in this creation:

There were some interesting fashion ideas, although I'm not sure that this little get-up would be quite my style:

This rather disturbing 'mechanical womb', complete with baby, was enough to make me think that pregnancy (which has always sounded a pretty creepy experience in itself to me ... hopefully time will change this!) might not be so bad after all, if this were the alternative:

*Shiver*!

Although it was also a little spooky, I did however love the dramatic look of one of the final pieces in the exhibition, even if I'd rather admire it in a gallery, than in my home:

The exhibition runs until 21 February 2010, and I highly recommend a visit if you're in Oxford before then. The Museum itself is also an intriguing place to wander around, but check out its opening hours on the website first, as they are a little erratic.

And now, I must turn away from the Victorians and delve deeper back into the past, giving at least a little of my time to Sir W and his friends before I head off to the cinema. For, as Sir W says in his 1601 essay 'Of Solitarinesse and Company', I do not want today's

'time to slide away without the memory of some good deedes'

alongside the recollection of my very good lunch!

Of Life is a Dream

2009-12-02T16:13:00.007Z

I'm playing catchup at the moment, so things are a little out of order. Hence, after telling you about my Saturday evening's activities in my post yesterday, I now need to backtrack to share with you all the delights of my Friday night's entertainment. I was at a conference about translation in the Early Modern period, held at St. John's College, on both Friday and Saturday. The talks were fascinating, but on Friday I had to slip off after the morning session, in order to meet up with my mum and catch the bus to London. I spent the entire bus journey in a state of High Excitement, for that evening we were first going to enjoy a delicious meal at one of my favourite London restaurants, and then we had a date with Dominic West at the Donmar Warehouse, to see one of my most highly anticipated theatre events of the season: Life is a Dream.

The evening got off to a great start with dinner at the lovely Mon Plaisir in Covent Garden's Monmouth Street. We were early enough to have the chance to wander around Covent Garden first, and I managed to pick up a couple of Christmas presents, as well as one or two things for myself (!) in between admiring the festive decorations and laughing at the street acts that crowd the piazza. Mon Plaisir is London's oldest French restaurant, and it is always a good choice for excellent but reasonably priced Gallic cuisine. On Friday evening I enjoyed a particularly good duck pate with grated truffle, before moving on to some delicious partridge. I was also particularly pleased to spy a favourite red wine on the restaurant's list: Bourgogne Passetoutgrains, a glass of which was the perfect accompaniment to my meal.

We were both too full for pudding, so skipped the final course in order to make our way around the corner to the Donmar. After having enjoyed my first visit there earlier this year, I was very much looking forward to returning. I was also highly excited about seeing the play itself, as I know very little about Spanish Golden Age theatre, despite the fact that I work on seventeenth-century English literature. Life is a Dream (or, to give it its original title, La vida es sueno) was written by the Spanish playwright Pedro Calderon de la Barca, and was first published in 1635. A little later than Sir W, therefore, but certainly well within my period of interest (even if I somehow seem to have moved away from studying any fiction in recent years!).

I must also admit, however, that not a little of my excitement arose from the fact that I was about to see Dominic West in the flesh, only a few feet away from me *swoon*. Regular readers may remember this picture of him from my rather gratuitous use of it in an earlier post, but I hope you'll excuse me if it makes another appearance here...

I have been a fan of Mr West's since my obsession with The Wire began earlier this year, and so I was really thrilled to be able to see him on stage. And I must say that neither he nor the play itself disappointed me.

The play revolves around West's character, Segismundo, a prince who has been kept ignorant of his true status, locked up throughout his life in an isolated tower. This is thanks to his father's belief in a prophecy which predicts that Segismundo will grow up to be a terrible tyrant, who will ruin his country and its people. At the time the play begins, however, the King has begun to question his actions, wondering whether, in attempting to forestall the prophecy, he may, in true Oedipul style, in fact have created the monster he sought to contain. The King's feelings of guilt lead him to give Segismundo one day of freedom, in which he will be presented with the knowledge of his true identity, and allowed to act as he sees fit. If he proves a just ruler, he will be given his freedom for always, but if the prophecy comes true, and he acts as a despot, he will be thrown back into his tower and told, upon awakening, that his day as a prince was only a dream. There are sub-plots involving wronged women, lost children, and various political and romantic intrigues, but the main focus always revolves around Segismundo, and the questions of free will and fate, nature and nurture, truth and delusion, sanity and madness.

The entire cast was excellent. To mention just a few: Rupert Evans (whom I had recently enjoyed as Frank Churchill in the BBC's recent adaptation of Emma) made a funny and suitably charming cad, Kate Fleetwood was a steely and vital Rosaria, and Sharon Small was at once regal and vulnerable. Dominic West, however, excelled, with his Segismundo being fiery, dangerous and cruel one minute, comically school-boyish the next, and pathetic and heartbreakingly confused a moment afterwards.

Ultimately, it is a story of redemption, of family, and of second chances, and I found the play deeply moving, as well as comic and exhilarating in turns. Helen Edmundson's adaptation zipped along at a fantastic pace, and I enjoyed her very modern translation, which was fresh and fast and funny. I left the theatre feeling revitalized and very happy, and looking forward even more to my next Donmar venture: Red, a new play about Philip Roth starring Alfred Molina, which I'm going to see in February.

My love of the theatre is something that Sir W shared, and in a change from normal, I leave you today with a couple of lines not from his Essayes, but from a verse epistle he wrote to his close friend, the poet John Donne (another of my favourite Early Moderns). The letter is preserved in a manuscript here in Oxford, at the Bodleian, and it makes me think that I'd have enjoyed a night out on the tiles with this pair. Or, indeed, an afternoon at the theatre, as Sir W encourages his friend to do here:

'If then, for change, for howers you seem careles,

Agree with me to lose them at the playes'.

Of A First Class Murder

2009-12-01T15:26:00.021Z

On Saturday night I attended a murder. Or, more precisely, a glamourous French woman called Marie de Mignon lent her company to a sparkling evening full of good food, excellent conversation, and death, all compered by a little Belgian man with a waxed moustache who kept popping up on the TV screen. That's right: last weekend some friends and I put on an Agatha Christie murder mystery party!

The box set we used was based on the plot of Christie's The Plymouth Express (luckily one of the few Poirots I hadn't read, so I didn't know the denouement beforehand), and the eight of us each played one of the suspects in Flossie Carrington's murder (she'd been stabbed on a train and her jewels stolen...). The friend who organised the evening thought it would be hysterical if we were each given parts which required accents as far removed from our own as possible -- hence my transformation into Mlle de Mignon for the night. One of my friends was a Scotsman, another a cockney maid, Americans became Brits and vice versa, while the genuine Frenchwoman present became the haughtily English Lady Swansea.

I had great fun donning a blonde flapper wig and feather headdress, twirling a long cigarette holder between my begloved fingers, and trying to guess whodunnit...

We watched the introductory DVD in which Poirot (sadly not played by the wonderful David Suchet!) set the scene (you come back to the DVD at various points throughout the game, to hear witness testimonies and the like, and, of course, to hear Poirot reveal the killer at the end, when you get to see whether your leetel grey cells have matched up to his):

After Poirot had described the murder, the game began in earnest as we sat down in our allotted seats for dinner:

A couple of my friends provided us with a glorious meal of several courses, with such delights as pastry puffs filled with pear, cheese, and pine-nuts, home-made soup, and deliciously succulent pork belly:

The only downside was that by the end of the meal we were all too full to make the most of the wonderful cheeses on offer (oh, and the fact that one of my friends had a bit of a hard time making sure his fake moustache didn't fall off and become an interesting garnish in his soup!).

The game is moved along using script booklets and envelopes containing clues, which tell you about your character and what information you can -- or must -- reveal to other characters. Sometimes you're told to challenge one of the others, and at all points you have to tell the truth as written in your booklet, unless you've just read that you're the murderer, in which case lying is most definitely allowed! The killer's identity isn't revealed even to them until the very final pages of the booklet, however, so it can be quite nail-biting waiting to find out whether you yourself wielded the knife! I've done a couple of these murder mysteries before, and on one occasion I did turn out to be a murderess, which was incredibly good fun (especially as only one of my friends guessed; all the others suspected the nun...). As well as making sure you get in all the information required by the script, improvisation is also highly encouraged, which led to some highly entertaining conversations as we all enjoyed getting into character.

All in all, a fantastic evening, and I recommend such a night to anyone who's a fan of Agatha Christie, or indeed anyone who just likes dressing up in silly costumes and fooling around with their friends over a good meal and some nice wine. Murder is the perfect accompaniment to such foodie frivolity, for, as Sir W said in his 1600 essay 'Of Censuring',

'Death is the last relish'.

Of Bicester Village

2009-11-25T17:31:00.016Z

It will probably not come as a surprise to any of you when I say that I like shopping. A lot. I must also admit that am also fairly picky about the people I shop with -- they need to share similar tastes, want to go into the same sort of places, be able to tell me the truth about whether something suits me (and to be able to take it when I return the favour), and have a shopping rhythm that works with mine (i.e. see stopping for frequent coffee breaks as a necessary part of the day). This might sound a little harsh, but believe me, I've learned the hard way. Good shopping companions are like gold dust, but luckily one of my friends here in Oxford is a kindred spirit, and today she and I spent a very happy time at Bicester Village, a shopping discount outlet which sells both designer and high end high street clothes at often massive discounts.

The clothes are usually surplus from the past season(s), but some of the shops do stock the latest lines, and I've found some amazing bargains there in the past. I was thrilled to be able to pick up this Diane von Furstenberg dress when I was there this summer, for example:

Today, Bicester was very festive, even in the drizzle, with Christmas music playing in several of the shops, and pretty lights and decorations all over. Even Porridge, as this chap is apparently known, was getting into the spirit of things:

In the morning, I introduced my friend to one of my favourite designers, Anne Fontaine. I was first taken to one of her shops by skirmishofwit, and have since become utterly addicted to her beautiful designs. Anne Fontaine produces stunning white and black shirts and blouses (although each collection also has an accent colour -- in the shop today it was a divine dark purple), and has more recently branched out into accessories, coats, and dresses. You can glimpse one of the latter in this unfortunately rather dark shot of the window display:

Another friend whom I introduced to Anne Fontaine last year bought one of her coats when we visited Bicester in the summer, and I must say I'm wildly envious. But the tops of hers I own are some of the favourite pieces in my wardrobe, and I always get complimented on them whenever I wear them. This is one I picked up at one of the Paris branches a couple of years ago, teamed with one of my well-loved pencil skirts:

I reserve it for special occasions (this was taken at the drinks before a lavish end of year dinner at New College eighteen months ago) -- as you can see from this close-up, it isn't the type of top you'd wear to pop to buy a pint of milk, but it adds a deliciously decadent edge to any big event:

This isn't a brilliant shot of another favourite, but you can see enough of the gorgeous pattern to see why I like it so much. It was one of the first ones I bought...

Although neither my friend nor I bought anything there today, we still enjoyed browsing through the racks, breathing in the delicious fragrance which perfumes all the Anne Fontaine stores (I bought a spritzer of her home spray when I was there in the summer: lovely). After pottering around a few of the other stores, we decided the time had come for lunch. Luckily there is a branch of the always reliable Carluccio's at Bicester, so we headed there.

I opted for a delicious and warming lasagna, my friend for a yummy looking Swiss chard and pork soup, and we both finished off with a delectable Cioccolata Fiorentina:

After this, we felt ready to hit the shops once more, and enjoyed ourselves immensely among the likes of Max Mara and Valentino. We particularly liked oohing and aahing over the stunning ballgowns in the latter...

... while I also fell utterly in love with this bag while we were in there, but even at sale price it was beyond the reach of the contents of my current purse:

At the end of the afternoon, we caught the bus home (Bicester is conveniently -- and dangerously -- only a twenty minute ride away from Oxford), both empty-handed (I know! The shock!) but happily exhausted after a very enjoyable day. We're definitely going to be trying our luck there again next year, for, as Sir W said in his 1600 essay 'Of Entertainment',

'I have a purse, and a life',

and what better place than Bicester to use them!

Of The Little Bookroom

2009-11-24T23:54:00.014Z

A couple of days ago, Merenia left me a comment recommending a website that I might like: The Little Bookroom. Like it I did, so much so that I wanted to share it with everyone else. The Little Bookroom produces guidebooks to destinations in the USA and in Europe, as well as notecards, journals, and more. The guidebooks have a particular focus on everything related to art, culture, gastronomy and couture, so you can see they are right up my street! They also happen to be the most divinely presented guidebooks I've ever come across, as you'll be able to see, since I haven't been able to resist uploading some of the gorgeous covers.

Merenia particularly recommended this shoppers' guide to Florence, and oh! - I wish I'd had it with me when I visited that lovely city a couple of years ago (although I must admit I did pretty well in the shops even without it, partly thanks to this very nice little guide, which I picked up at the wonderful Daunt Books). The cover is so evocative of the richness and beauty of Florence, and makes me doubly eager to go back, just so I have an excuse to buy this book:

I am hoping to visit Paris again in the new year, and when I do, I think I'll find it hard to resist buying at least one of these guides beforehand. I could read this to discover the best places to enjoy something scrumptious in the afternoon...

... scan this to find out where to get a great glass (or bottle) of wine ...

... and I can make sure I'm doing all of this whilst dressed with perfect taste if I read this and find out just where Paris's chicest women buy their clothes:

If I'd known about this before I went to New York earlier this year, I'd definitely have popped it into my hand luggage to read on the flight over:

But the good thing is that the guides cover the UK too, so I can explore London with fresh eyes after reading this...

... and find some new places to tempt my tastebuds without upsetting my bank balance with this:

For any Janeites out there, this would make a perfect gift when Christmas comes around...

... while these notecards would also make a wonderful present, although I think I'd be much more likely to keep them to myself:

At the moment, The Little Bookroom is offering a 20% 'Holiday Discount', and I for one will be taking advantage of that all too soon. Thanks again, Merenia, for pointing me in the direction of a place which will, as Sir W said in his 1600 essay 'Of Advice', allow me to

'distill the whole world'.

Of Leaving the Library

2009-11-23T21:18:00.006Z

I am writing this in Duke Humfrey's, in which I have spent nearly twelve hours (don't worry, I did squeeze in a 45 minute break for lunch), finishing off a nearly 20,000 word chapter draft for my supervisor.

My fingers feel as if they're about to drop off, and my shoulders are killing me, but I have a wonderful feeling of jubilation at having completed the draft, nevertheless. I am off now to pick up some takeaway (no chance I'm cooking after this!), and sink gratefully into bed. Sir W may have said in his 1600 essay 'Of Sleepe' that

'Fame neuer knew a perpetuall Bedpresser',

but when it's well-deserved (and sometimes when it's not) a bit of bedpressing is a wonderful thing!

Of Blowing The Cobwebs Away

2009-11-22T17:43:00.007Z

I am writing this snuggled up under a blanket with a nice cup of tea, warming myself up, as I have just got in from a blustery afternoon's walk. A friend and I decided to brave the weather and so, boots on, umbrellas in hand, we set off towards Iffley lock, which you can see in rather nicer weather here (annoyingly I forgot to take my camera today):

We met outside Christ Church Meadows, and cut across those to Folly Bridge, before striking out along the Thames towpath, surrounded by fields on one side and college boats full of rowers out training on the other... Luckily the latter petered out as we got deeper into the countryside!

Iffley itself is a pretty village just on the outskirts of Oxford, and we were able to catch a glimpse of its beautiful church, St Mary's (built in 1170), across the water.

Someday I'll have to wander round the village itself, and have a look inside the church. Today, however, we were being rather less high-minded, as our destination was a yummy pub lunch at the Isis Farmhouse:

Although it had stopped raining, we were still glad to get inside the pub, which I had never been to before. My friend had warned me that it was a little unusual, and he was right, in as much as there were only three things on the menu (plus the gourmet baked beans on toast and homemade cakes and scones they always serve!), but luckily the choices of soup, lentil stew, or Moroccan style chicken casserole all sounded lovely. We both plumped for the chicken casserole, which was indeed delicious: a generous serving of couscous and chicken, mixed together with olives, lemon, various spices and served with still-warm bread to dip into the juices. Mmm! Coupled with a glass of wine, it was perfect for a pick-me-up before going back outside. Fortified by our meal, we decided to carry on walking for a little longer, passing the two pretty bridges next to the lock, the second of which is based on the famous Mathematical Bridge at Queen's College, Cambridge:

We almost made it to Sandford, the next village along the Thames, but decided we'd better turn back before the winter evening drew in. Next summer, perhaps!

This afternoon's trip was just what I needed to blow away a few cobwebs, and it was fun to discover somewhere new in Oxford, and to feel so countrified so short a distance from town (it took us about 45 minutes to walk to the pub from the town centre). I'll definitely be doing more of this in the future; who knows, perhaps even The Walking Boots will come into their own once again...! Only, of course, if there's a nice pub to warm oneself up in at the end of the trip. On which subject, I leave you today with the charming opening sentence of Sir W's 1600 essay 'Of Alehouses':

'I Write this in an Alehouse, into which I am driuen by night, which would not giue me leaue to finde out an honester harbour. I am without any Company but Inke and Paper, and them I vse in stead of talking to my selfe'.

Of Wallpaper and Caravans

2009-11-19T12:45:00.010Z

I recently read this interesting interview on Yell Softly with Lisa Borgnes Giramonti of the entrancing blog A Bloomsbury Life. The entire interview has sent me scurrying to various parts of the internet: to find out more about the books Lisa recommends, or check out particular designers. But I was particularly intrigued to find out more about the 'Genuine Fake Bookcase' wallpaper by Deborah Bowness which Lisa has in her dining room. I'd rather line my walls with real books, but I still couldn't resist a closer look at this, so I hurried off to the Bowness site immediately:

This then sparked another journey, as I clicked to find out where one can buy the wallpaper in the UK (ok, so I haven't got a house to decorate, and won't have for some considerable time, but that doesn't stop my domestic fantasies), and was delighted to find that her London distributer is the quaintly named Caravan, a shop in London's Shoreditch. The reason for my delight was that I had actually stumbled across the shop itself whilst wandering around in East London some time ago, had loved its range of eccentric, lovely homeware and gift ideas, and had then promptly forgotten about. So to be reminded of its existence was a boon indeed, especially as Christmas is coming up and they have an online shop...

The Bowness wallpaper -- both the bookcases and other designs -- they have on offer is beautiful indeed, but at £150 a strip, even if I did have a place of my own, I might have to reign in my temptations...

Happily, though, there are plenty of other, rather more affordable but equally tempting bits and pieces on offer in their online store, so I thought I'd share a few of my favourites here.

As I've mentioned on other occasions, I love a nice cup of tea, and when that tea is of the loose leaf variety, I think this would be a particularly pretty tea strainer to use:

Rose tea strainer, £12.50

To accompany my morning pot of tea, I might decide to have a boiled egg, complete, of course, with soldiers to dip into it, in which case this would a perfect addition to my table:

Egg and soldiers set, £18

Always an accessories girl, my eye was naturally caught by these cute little handbags, which could hold photos or equally function as name settings at a dinner party:

Handbag card holders, £18

Finally, I always love to have candles around, so these angel wing decorations would be a great festive twist for any candlelit meal:

Candle wings, £4.95 - £8.95

These would all, I think, make rather nice Christmas gifts. Once again, however, now I must leave these frivolities behind and betake myself back to the library. I have a wine tasting this evening and some friends and I are meeting for sushi first (yum!), so I must stop thinking of Christmas presents and give Sir W & Co. my full attention for the time being. For as Sir W rather somberly pointed out in his 1600 essay 'Of Behaviour', compared to the purchase of trinkets, however lovely,

'The gifts of the minde are not so easily obtained, these you must purchase with paine, and difficulty; and great reason, for it were pitty such preciousnesse might be had for the taking'.

Of Giselle

2009-11-18T15:20:00.010Z

Last night I went to the ballet for the first time in many years, and was swept up into a different, magical world. A friend and I went to see the English National Ballet's production of Giselle at the New Theatre in Oxford, and were both completely blown away. I've been wanting to go to the ballet for ages, and have particularly hankered after seeing Giselle, probably partly due to the influence of the dreams of Lorna Hill's heroines in her Sadlers Wells books, for whom either Giselle or Odette/Odile (Swan Lake) is the ultimate ambition.

I think I was particularly fortunate in that my reintroduction to the world of ballet was with such a good company, and such an excellent production. The evening began with a 'curtain raiser' by some of the men of the company, in a new piece called Men Y Men, which was performed to music by Rachmaninov. The eight male dancers were topless, with black tights, and against a dark backdrop at times it seemed that only their torsos were visible, weaving and leaping through the air in a mesmerising series of moves. It was exciting, and an excellent prelude to whet our appetites for what was to come.

Giselle was first performed in 1841, but it has lost none of its power to move and entrance its audience. The sets and costumes here were incredible, both in the first act based around Giselle's cottage:

and in the second act, in which the eerie chill of the woods around Giselle's grave was conjured up brilliantly through mysterious lighting and billowing mists, a perfect backdrop for the bewitching gauziness of the beautiful and deadly Wilis:

The effect was utterly captivating. The dancer playing Giselle alternates, and last night it was the Japanese dancer Erina Takahashi,

who was superb: as the shy, then love-struck Giselle of the beginning, courted by Albrecht (an excellent Dmitri Gruzdyev)...

... then convincingly and heart-breakingly driven into madness by his betrayal, before finally emerging as the etherial wraith of the second act, moving so lightly across the stage that it seemed as if she could truly be a ghost, as she strove to save her lover from his intended fate at the hands of the Wilis -- the unquiet spirits of jilted brides who take revenge by forcing men to dance unto the death.

My friend and I emerged from the theatre on a real high, having been completely enchanted by the beauty and emotion we had witnessed. I for one intend to make this the first of many more balletic experiences!

It was a truly magical evening, and was indeed, to use Sir W's phrase from his 1601 essay 'Of Conceit':

'a fancie well disposed'.

Of A Lovely Weekend

2009-11-16T13:23:00.014Z

My friend's party at the weekend was a lot of fun. We enjoyed some pre-dinner drinks at her house, where we were greeted by an unexpected guest, with whom, as you can see, I rather fell in love:

Doesn't he look real?! Unfortunately he was a bit to big for me to slip into my handbag and steal off with... We followed this with an excellent meal at Jaipur on the Cowley Road. This was a new discovery for me, and one I'm very pleased to have made. The staff were friendly, the ambiance warm and welcoming, and the food both delicious and beautifully presented:

They even brought my friend a little extra something when they found out it was her birthday:

I can particularly recommend the Mixed Starter and the Chicken Shaslick, while the spinach rice is also well worth trying. I've found out that they offer free home delivery on orders within six miles of the restaurant, so I think I'll be trying that out one evening when cooking seems like too much effort!

After the meal, we made our way down the Cowley Road to Cafe Coco. I'd been here for brunch and lunch before (both lovely. The full English breakfast is truly excellent, and is one of the few places I've found in Oxford where it includes black pudding, which gets it a definite thumbs up from me). I'd never tried it in the evening, however, so I was particularly pleased to be able to test out their cocktail range, especially as certain cocktails are only £3.95 between 10pm and closing (at 1am).

Cafe Coco is owned by the same people as one of my very favourite Oxford haunts, The Grand Cafe, which also offers cheap cocktails every evening, so I was pleased to find that the ones at Cafe Coco were just as good. It's a fun place with a lively atmosphere, not to mention some rather interesting pieces of art:

When I came to Cafe Coco for brunch with a friend last year, I was sitting in a chair facing away from the clown in the bath, when suddenly my friend went a little pale and told me to turn around. I did so, only to see a rush of ice cubes pour out of the little gold pipe above the clown, *into the bath*. Apparently it's where they keep their ice. I was quite happy to finish my cup of tea, but my friend had a slightly harder job enjoying his iced water after that ... he said he couldn't quite enjoy it after thinking of it swimming around next to a naked clown mannequin. Fair enough, I suppose, but the bizarre sculptures certainly add to the atmosphere!

Sunday dawned bright and (not so) early, and we indulged ourselves with a reviving meal at the wonderful Edamame -- another absolute favourite which will some day merit a post to itself. After I'd waved goodbye to my friends, I then went on a Mission. And this time, I succeeded: I have New Boots!

I was *very* happy to find these at Marks & Spencer, exceedingly well priced (I fell in love with a pair at Sassi the other day, but they were £300, and my love has limits...) and also extraordinarily comfortable. The heel is sturdy enough to stand a good chance against the cobbles, whilst also looking nice with a skirt. They may not be perfect, but they are certainly a welcome addition to my wardrobe.

I pottered round the shops a little more in the afternoon, and was pleased to find a great new dress for the end of term Christmas dinner and party at College, which is coming up in early December. I wanted something a bit different, and I think this dress from French Connection fits the bill:

It is a little more risque perhaps than my usual choices, with the sheer front and carefully placed sequins (!), but it's fun and frivolous and perfect for getting into the Christmas spirit. And sometimes it's good to have a change. To tone it down a little, I'm going to pair it with black tights and a pair of black patent high heels like these...

... and look forward to dancing the night away. I'll make sure to tell you all about it!

For now, I'm off to get myself some lunch, and then I must stop thinking of frivolous matters for the time being and get back to the library. Or, as Sir W put it in his 1600 essay 'Of Fame':

'I will from henceforth follow Vertue silently in my study'.

Of A Welsh Retreat

2009-11-14T12:05:00.006Z

I spent last weekend staying with my aunt and her partner in South Wales, a wonderful wintry break. Much as I adore Oxford, it can become a (very pretty) claustrophobic bubble at times, and getting out into the Welsh countryside was a welcome retreat. My aunt has three dogs, who all require a lot of exercise, so I muffled up in layers upon layers and ventured outside to enjoy the autumnal scenery with them, which was lovely even in the rain which stereotypically poured down throughout most of my visit. The walks were a lot of fun, and I almost regretted not taking The Walking Boots with me so they could have another little outing. Almost. Sadly I forgot to take my camera, so I can't share the beautiful vistas, the fallen red leaves, the fern-lined streams, and the panting dogs and woolly wet sheep. Nor the rumbling log fire, glowing candles, cosy cushion-filled window seats, and delicious warming food, which all seemed so much more luxurious thanks to the rain-lashed windows and cold winds blowing outside our little nest.

My aunt's cottage is up the side of a hill, reached by a twisting lane which seems a lot longer, let me tell you, when you have to walk up it in the snow, because the car can't make it ... such journeys are one of the abiding memories of my childhood. Also clambering over the fence into the field which borders my aunt's garden, picking my way over to the cows' water trough, smashing the ice and scooping out a pail of water to take back to the house, so that we could actually flush the toilet when the cold weather had frozen all the pipes. This is also the aunt who used to take me camping as a child, so you can see it is really to her and her partner that I owed my ability to wow my fellow chaletites with my nonchalant (well, more nonchalant than they were expecting, anyway...) response to the Chalet's own basic conditions this summer. As I said, at least there I had a proper bed, rather than a tent floor!

I've been spending a busy week since returning from my trip, with lots of work and lots of socialising, which has been fun if a little exhausting, and has unfortunately left little time for blogging -- hence the late description of my Welsh break. I am summoning up the remains of my energy today however for a friend's birthday party tonight, which should be a lot of fun. Some old undergraduate friends are coming up for it, so I'm looking forward to seeing everyone and catching up on all their news. My friend lives in East Oxford too, so we're going to be exploring some of the restaurants and bars on this side of town -- I can't wait to get to know more about my new area! Talking of which, I must go and prepare for everyone's arrival: washing up, tidying, all those sorts of joyous activities. Thank goodness some frivolity will be returning this evening with the advent of a few cocktails and some good company! But although I am very excited about seeing my friends tonight, after such a busy week I've also been glad of a quiet morning today. I love spending time with other people, but I also need some time alone to recharge and refresh myself. This morning -- even with its chores -- is a good opportunity for that, meaning that today looks to be a perfect combination of reflection and revellry. For, as Sir W said in his 1601 essay 'Of Solitarinesse and Company':

'The vse of things makes things worth the vse, and company by the vse is an excellent instructour, and solitarines moderatly taken, makes vs fit for company'.

Of Boots (2)

2009-11-05T16:58:00.009Z

Regular readers may remember my despair earlier in the year when I had to purchase The Walking Boots in preparation for my trip to the chalet. Although I must admit that they did me proud as I wandered across the alpine slopes, I am still not overly fond of them. I am not ashamed to admit that I am a heels girl through and through, and The Walking Boots form something of an aberration in my wardrobe.

I was thrilled then, to be able to return today to my more usual boot shopping habits. All of my shoes seem to have died at once, worn down into despair by the Oxford cobbles and autumnal rain. My final pair of flats gave up the ghost a little while ago, and although, as I've said, I love my heels, I am also aware of the need for some rather less vertiginous footwear once in a while. I was therefore very pleased to buy a particularly cute pair of ballet pumps in Jones Bootmaker. I am a sucker for anything with a bow, so these fitted the bill nicely:

After this happy purchase, I continued my quest for The Perfect Boots. This is a long and arduous journey, as it seems to me that the knee length boot trends are not particularly inspiring this season. Sadly, I am yet to meet my ideal match, but I was successful in finding a new pair of, well, I suppose they come under the 'shoe-boot' category, to replace my pair from last winter which are now falling apart through over-use. I found them in the lovely Sassi Shoes on Oxford's High Street, a small shop with a relatively small, but extremely well chosen range of stock:

I often admire the shoes in their window displays, and so I was extremely happy when I tried these on and found them to be comfortable as well as attractive:

I think they'll look especially nice with a couple of cute little skirts I have in my wardrobe, and they'll be good for showing off some of my winter tights. The chunkier heel also appealed, as it's hopefully going to be rather more practical on the Oxford pavements than the spindly kind I favoured last year!

For now, The Perfect Boots might have eluded me, but I am very pleased with these latest -- essential! -- additions to my cupboard. At least I now have something that doesn't leak and which still has its complete heel to wear whilst tramping about searching for my ideal knee-highs.

As Sir W said in his 1600 essay 'Of Complements', and as indeed he might say again if only he could see me tripping about town in my new purchases (well, a girl can dream):

'happy shall I be to haue had the impression of your footesteps'.

Of Keeping Cosy

2009-11-01T12:01:00.019Z

The rain is lashing down outside, and I am snuggled up under the blankets with a lovely hot cup of tea, thanking the stars for wireless internet and laptops. I waved goodbye to my friend this morning as she caught her bus back to Cambridge (rather her than me -- the damn thing takes THREE AND A HALF HOURS, including the thirty minutes it apparently takes to change drivers in Bedford. Oh, and the hour it seems to take to drive around Milton Keynes' interminable roundabouts). Now, I'm relaxing at home for a while before braving the weather once more to strike out into town and go for a late lunch at The Royal Oak on St Gile's: a cosy pub which serves up an excellent Sunday roast.

Meanwhile, I have been amusing myself by perusing Etsy from beneath the comforting warmth of my duvet. In order to drive away the air of gloom which is threatening to pervade my room thanks to the menacing gusts of wind driving the rain onto my window, I've been considering a few of the bits and pieces that might cheer up a cold, rainy day such as this.

Although I'm not sure how well it would cope in the wet, I really like this unusual coat from Little Houses Clothing. I adore the huge collar with its lace trim, and it looks lovely and warm, as well as being pretty. And even the name is apt considering my period of study:

Shakespeare's Sister Coat, $395

I've also fallen in love with these cute cashmere leg warmers (no, I never thought I'd be writing those words either, but these are special) from Adventures of Jessica Rose. The colours are stunning, and with the little bows at the top, I think they'd look great peeping out above a pair of long boots too:

Cashmere Legwarmers in Lavender and Raisin, $85

Before venturing outside, I think I might want to slather on some protective lip balm to counteract the vicious weather November has brought, and this delicious offering from the lovely Marie Antoinette's Patisserie Collection at Vintage Bella might be just the ticket:

Pink Cake Lip Balm, $3

A little pampering of the rest of me with this Lap of Luxury Soap (ah yes, always a phrase I like to hear -- and not just with soap at the end of it) from the wonderful range at Seattle Sundries wouldn't go amiss either:

Lap of Luxury Soap, $9.50

I must admit, however, that on a day like this, part of me is quite happy just to stay indoors, curled up with a hot drink, a few biscuits, and a good book (I'm happy to report that so far, Stone's Fall is definitely meeting the demands of that last category!). But that's no reason not to look stylish, as the 'loungerie' (love it!) offered by plumprettysugar makes clear, with stay-at-home wear bright enough to cheer up the most dismal day:

Kimono Style Robe, $124

And if I were always to drink tea out of cups as lovely as this one from House of Harriet, I would be a happy girl indeed. Combining cats and tea, the entire Amsterdam Cats colletion can hardly fail to charm me:

Amsterdam Cats Big Hand-painted Mug, $60

For now, however, I will return to my current cup (which is itself rather pretty, even if it doesn't have a cat on it), and get a few more chapters in before I have to get up and pull out my umbrella. Although, as I've been writing, I could kid myself that the sun has started to peer through the clouds, and although the wind is still buffeting the walls, it's not howling quite so loudly as before. But I think I'll pack my umbrella anyway, just in case.

Sir W too bewails the weather upon occasion, although, as this excerpt from his 1600 essay 'Of Fame' makes clear, his concerns are rather more lofty than any I might have about the rain spoiling my clothes...:

'History hath added to my naturall desire of louing fame: I was there set afire with conuersing with braue spirits. I like deeds well, but they were not within my reache, and so I sought to buy what my stock would reach to: though I cannot clime so well as Caesar, yet I shoulde thinke my selfe happy if I could but get vp his Stile. But he was a Romane borne, and borne vnder a climate of more wit: we are so colde, and so dull, that we thinke of nothing beyond the compasse of our inheritance, iust like the Swissers we will lose no ground; leaue vs in durt, and finde vs in durt. The Graecians and the Romanes were Monarches of the world, not by sitting still, and keeping themselues warme, but Industry and Aduenture were the wings that made them fly high. We will aduenture vpon noting except it be on a surfit, and sixe pence at Tables'.

Of A Grey Christmas

2009-10-30T13:19:00.008Z

A grey Christmas is not one that I would normally look forward to, but when the particular shade being promised is Persephone Grey, things change rather dramatically! I am excited today as this morning I joined up for the Persephone Secret Santa which is being organised by Book Psmith. I think it's a wonderful idea to spread the Persephone love and bring together more like-minded people from the blogging community. If you're a Persephone fan, and haven't signed up already, do pop across to Book Psmith's site and have a look at the details.

After all, a Christmas guaranteed to bring at least one new Persephone will be a happy one even if the weather is as grey as these covers. (Thanks to Claire at Paperback Reader for bringing this scheme to my attention in the first place).

As Sir W said (albeit on a rather different subject!) in his 1601 essay 'Of Conceit', such a delivery at the start of the festive season

'is a pretty gift to begin with'.

Of Recommended Reading

2009-10-29T23:41:00.006Z

Although Howards End is on the Landing may not be entering my best-loved books list, one of the things Susan Hill has done for me is bring to my attention a few books or authors which I had never come across before, and which I'm now looking forward to trying. One of these is The Paper House by Carlos Maria Dominguez.

It is a small book of only just over 100 pages, including illustrations by Peter Sis, but despite its tiny stature it sounds like it is going to pack quite a punch. The inside jacket tells us that it is a 'fable about the power of literature to steer our destinies', and it is a fantastical book about the joys and the dangers of obsessive bibliophilia. It arrived in the post today, and I am looking forward to reading it even more after Savidge Reads' recent review of it.

Also awaiting me in my college pigeon hole was another title to add to my new Barbara Pym collection, which I am eager to increase after enjoying Some Tame Gazelle and Excellent Women so much. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to further my acquaintance with Pym when I asked for suggestions recently, and especially to Merenia, who particularly recommended this latest buy: Crampton Hodnet.

This sounds right up my street: how could I resist a Pym novel which is actually set in Oxford?! I shall be sharing my thoughts on these books just as soon as I read them, and I can't wait to try both of these new additions to my shelves (I can see my new bookshelf filling up rather speedily...), although they will have to wait for a while. I am no further with Stone's Fall than I was yesterday, and it too will have to lie mainly unread until after the weekend: I have a friend from Cambridge staying with me until Sunday, and as I haven't seen her since February, we have a lot of catching up to do, and a variety of pleasant activities planned in which to do it!

I must get to bed now, as along with all the meals, exhibitions, and general frivolities we have planned for the next few days, my friend and I both have to be at the library in the morning, for a couple of hours at least! On the subject of bed, I sign off today with some of Sir W's musings from his 1600 essay 'Of Sleepe':

'This Sleepe is to me in the nature that Dung is to Ground, it makes the soyle of my Apprehension more solid, and tough; it makes it not so light, and pleasant, and I am glad of it, for I finde my selfe too much subiect to a verball quicknesse'.

Of Howards End Is On The Landing

2009-10-28T13:04:00.010Z

Book Review: Susan Hill, Howard's End is on the Landing (Profile Books, 2009), £12.99.

I read Susan Hill's recently published book Howards End is on the Landing during my enforced stay in bed with 'flu last week (on which subject, btw: I am feeling much better today, so hopefully this time my recovery will be permanent!). Its beautifully decorated dust jacket helped in my fond attempts to pretend that my deathly pallor and hideous purple eye-bags might somehow make me into one of those Pale and Interesting Young Women swooning into their pillows, like the lady in James Whistler's Maud Reading In Bed:

Actually, 'read' is perhaps not exactly the right term. I started reading Hill's book at the beginning, but ended up dipping in and out, alighting on chapters whose titles sounded most alluring, and leaving others until these had run out, and reading other books inbetween*. In itself, I suppose this butterfly approach suggests something of my tepid response to Hill's book. I must say that I don't think this style of reading particularly harmed the book, the structure of which actually lends itself to being read as and how one sees fit. As Verity of The B-Files mentioned in her interesting review, the chapters are extremely short and do not necessarily flow on from one another in any thematic or other way, lacking any overarching structure.

Thanks to the book's sub-title, 'A year of reading from home', and from what I knew of the book's premise before reading it (Hill decided to read only books already in her home collection, aside from review copies and academic works, for a year), I was expecting a kind of reading diary, probably arranged chronologically, and discussing the highs and lows of Hill's experiment, her frustrations at not being able to purchase new books, and her delight at (re)discovering old ones. Thus I expected a book with a fairly strong narrative drive, albeit with plenty of more general bibliophilic digressions along the way: it is perhaps for this reason that I found the lack of coherency slightly irritating. The book is much less about Hill's 'year of reading from home' and more about the way in which particular books evoke particular memories, leading her into dreamy reminiscences, often about famous writers she had encountered or been friends with throughout her life. It is this type of thing which makes the genre label 'memoir' on the back of the dust jacket so apt. Although I enjoyed reading some of Hill's stories, and some of her more general musings upon books were interesting (I am of her mind in disliking the idea of e-readers, for example; although I had to disagree with her rant against bookplates, loving them so much myself! I found it ironic indeed that I should have put my own bookplate in the front of this book before reading it...), I was disappointed not to have more about this particular year in Hill's reading life. I felt at the end like I had little understanding of whether or not this had been a worthwhile thing for Hill to do, and had scant sense of what the year had actually been like for her - so much time was taken up with past stories of varying degrees of interest.

Although some dissenting voices have been cropping up (most notably Claire at Paperback Reader in her thoughtful review), it is generally completely positive responses of Hill's book which have been flooding in, with bloggers joyful at a book whose author is obviously a bibliophile herself. Personally, I would recommend this book, but with reservations, and although Hill displays some lovely turns of phrase, I cannot say that this has inspired me to read any of her novels (which I had not done before reading this, although I did enjoy the thrilling stage version of The Woman in Black a few years ago!). In an odd way, I found the book to have a somewhat reserved and listless tone about it, even when Hill was at her most enthusiastic, although this is simply a matter of personal taste, for, as I have said, in many ways the book is extremely well written. All in all, a bit of a curate's egg!

* On one of my breaks from Hill's book, I picked up my as yet unread copy of The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks by James Anderson, the third in the Burford family mystery series. I had very much enjoyed the first two, the deliciously titled The Affair of the Blood-Stained Egg Cosy and The Affair of the Mutilated Mink, and it was a delight to return to the Earl and Countess and their lively daughter Gerry for another riot of murder and mayhem. Anderson's books are great fun, affectionately recreating the atmosphere of the Golden Age detective stories, but with tongue often firmly in cheek. I really felt like some proper comfort reading last week, and this did the trick admirably! I love the covers of the reissues of Anderson's books, and recently bought a card featuring the same picture as that which adorns the cover of the first title, which is now decorating my mantelpiece:

I have just now begun the second of the book haul which arrived alongside HEiotL the other day: Iain Pears' latest novel Stone's Fall. As I have mentioned elsewhere, I am a huge fan of Pears' great book An Instance of the Fingerpost, and I have high hopes of this new one, which looks to be equally intricately structured and plotted. I am only four chapters in, and am already hooked! Hopefully my next review will be a little less luke-warm than my response to Susan Hill...

Another bookish quotation from Sir W to round things off today. This one comes from his 1601 essay 'Of Trappes for Fame', and delightfully describes Sir W himself making a happy discovery sitting amongst the volumes in his own library:

'I happened very lately amongst my bookes to meete with Diogenes Laertius, where I was much delighted, euen more then euer I was with any booke, for I do beholde their words and writings with nothing so good a stomack as I do their liues, and to know what they did. I found hardly a page, but I wished my memory, to gather some griftes in them, not a line but so full of precious liquor, as the words were too shorte wasted for the matter. He is in great estimation with me, and shal be one of my neerest companions'.

Of Counting Chickens...

2009-10-26T18:08:00.005Z

... before they are hatched!

I am Seriously Disgruntled today. Having blithely crowed about how happy I was to have recovered from my 'flu in time for my housewarming, it turns out that I was a little premature. Or, in other words, co-hosting an all-night party the day after leaving my sick bed of three days was maybe not my best idea ever. Last night I began feeling slightly woozy again, meaning I had to leave early from a night with friends eating cheese and delicious home-made Hungarian sausages and arguing over which film we wanted to watch (it was fun, really!), and today I woke up feeling much the worse for wear, weak and woeful. I am particularly sorry as I was meant to be going to London this evening with my mum to see Enron at the National Theatre. I had been looking forward to it as it's had great reviews, and I would have loved to have seen Sam West on stage, having thought him very good in numerous TV shows over the years. Strangely enough, I missed out a few days ago on hearing his father, the actor Timothy West, give a talk about his career at a special event in Oxford because I was chained to my bed. Luckily Enron is transferring to the West End next year, so I'll definitely be booking replacement tickets and hoping not to get struck down by any other Inconvenient Maladies!

I am hoping to be properly better tomorrow, when I will post something rather more cheerful (!), but for now, I am going to once more retire under the covers with a hot drink, attempting not to grumble too much as I recline wanly, but rather firmly agreeing with Sir W's words in his 1600 essay 'Of Patience':

'the body by this preuents an aduenture, therefore that respect makes mee obstinate'!

Of Warming the House

2009-10-25T18:26:00.006Z

My cold turned into the 'flu (whether or not of the porcine variety, I am unsure...), and I felt very sorry for myself during the three days I spent languishing in bed, despite having Dominic West and the rest of the cast of The Wire to keep me company. Happily, yesterday I began feeling much more like myself, which was fortunate as yesterday evening was the occasion of our housewarming party.

Some friends and I began the evening with a pre-party meal at the lovely Slovak restaurant Moya, which, thanks to my new location in St Clements, is just a hop and a skip down the road. After a celebratory cocktail, I enjoyed a delicious, melt-in-the-mouth pork shank...

... before indulging in this scrumptious 'bubble cake' for pudding. It tasted just as good as it looked:

The good food continued at the party itself, as along with the various varieties of alcohol with which we were presented, one of our guests also brought along a delicious 'Zebra cake' which she had baked earlier in the day:

It was lovely to catch up with old friends as wine, music, and conversation flowed freely. The house stood up remarkably well to being filled to capacity, and our new abode was warmed in a truly fine style: Time itself even rolled back an hour, making us feel that our new home is truly blessed! Here's hoping there'll be many more enjoyable evenings in St Clements over the next year!

In his 1601 essay 'Of Vanitie', Sir W warns that:

'a drunken night makes a mistie morning'.

Luckily, despite partaking freely of the many bottles presented by our guests (including some Chocolate Wine: very rich, very sweet, very curious! It would be a fun Christmas tipple), I managed to avoid any such mistiness myself today!

Of New Arrivals

2009-10-20T11:38:00.008+01:00

More goodies to battle my cold arrived in the post yesterday:

I had an Amazon voucher left over from my birthday, and these are some of the riches which have resulted. All three are books which I've been wanting to read for ages, and all three, coincidentally, have rather nice covers:

Hilary Mantel: Wolf Hall

Susan Hill: Howards End is on the Landing

Iain Pears: Stone's Fall

I am very excited about all of these books, and will be posting about each of these as and when I read them (starting with Howards End is on the Landing). I also thought I would share the pretty little bookplate which has gone inside all of them -- marked now of course with my name, the name of my college, and the date of purchase:

I shall leave you with another bookish quotation from Sir W (happily, there are many!), which this time comes from his wonderful 1601 essay 'Of Essayes and Bookes'. Although I am not sure if I am always so virtuously minded as he in my choice of reading matter!

'I thinke well of these Bookes named, and the better because they teach me how to mannage myselfe: where any of them grow subtile, or intend heigh matters, I giue my memory leaue to loose them. There are none that I scratch with my pen that doe not fatherly counsaile me to the way of vertue'.

Of Combatting Colds

2009-10-19T12:39:00.008+01:00

Apologies for the lack of posting, but I'm rather Under The Weather at present. Although I seem to be keeping the dreaded Swine Flu at bay, I have succumbed to a rather nasty cold. This has left me with a voice that comes and goes (and always comes at a rather lower pitch than usual), and an inclination to do little more than curl up with a cup of hot water with honey and lemon and a blanket. And a good book, of course: at the moment, I'm enjoying Barbara Pym's Excellent Women. This is the only the second Pym I've read; by fluke, my first was actually her first published novel -- Some Tame Gazelle -- and it turns out that Excellent Women is her second, as well as mine. I'm very pleased to have finally read some Pym, and will be posting some more about her once I'm more myself. In the meantime, if anyone has any recommendations for any particular Pym favourites, I'd love to hear them!

I've also been snuggling up beneath the bedclothes (hurray for wireless internet!) with my laptop to continue working my way through The Wire. I'm about half way through the final season now and already becoming sad at the thought that it's nearly all over. Alongside this I've been enjoying the fact that True Blood has just come to 4oD. I wouldn't normally say I'm one for vampire dramas, but I'd had it recommended by several friends, and I must admit I'm already gripped: it's a tad melodramatic perhaps (well, it is about vampires I suppose...), but it's funny, incredibly sexy, and totally addictive. Oh, and it has the best title sequence I've seen for a while (these are getting so good now -- the one to the divine Mad Men is another personal favourite).

Right, for now, I think I might just make myself another cup of tea, make sure the tissues are within reach, and retreat to my comfort reading again until I am feeling slightly more human myself! It is perhaps fortunate in such circumstances that I can say with Sir W (in his 1600 essay 'Of Fame') that as long as I can remember,

'my occupation hath been vehemently bookish'.

Of Chocolate Shoes

2009-10-15T22:42:00.006+01:00

As you may have gathered from my despair when I had to forego my usual heels for the dreaded pair of Walking Boots earlier in the summer, I am rather fond of shoes. I also rarely say no to a nice bit of chocolate. You can therefore imagine my delight when I discovered the following edible treats:

I think I may just have found my Perfect Chocolates! These stunning Chocolate Shoes are the creations of Bristol based company Clifton Cakes, but are also on sale in Liberty in London (another reason to visit a shop which is already a favourite of mine) and -- dangerously -- via mail order. You can also buy this super cute pair of small shoes, which, as their website suggests, would make a lovely gift:

Clifton Cakes also run chocolate tasting and making courses, which sound rather heavenly. I suspect I'd be rather better at the tasting, than the making, although perhaps when indulging my inner glutton I should remember Sir W's warning from his 1601 essay 'Of Knowledge':

'the body neuer sendeth the stomacke to tell vs, we haue eaten too much, but the soule feeles it too; when the stomache riseth against the meate, the conscience dooth against intemperaunce, and as the one feeles the meate, the other dooth the sinne of the surfetting.'

Although I think my conscience could pretty easily be beaten into submission by the sharp points of those chocolate stilettos..!

Of Being Tempted

2009-10-14T15:05:00.014+01:00

I recently came across the delicious site that is Fey Handmade, with all its wonderful goodies. How could I not be entranced by a company with a range called 'November in Paris'? At the moment I must admit that it is only really the nearly $20 international shipping charge which is putting me off succumbing to temptation. (Any lucky people in the US get shipping for FREE!) These are just a few of my lust-after pieces:

Peacock Earrings, $28

I love peacocks on accessories, and indeed some of my favourite stationery is this set of note cards which I picked up on that trip to Florence I mentioned yesterday. I bought them at a wonderful shop called Il Papiro, along with a couple of other beautiful things:

I always like a good cup of tea, and when it's in a pretty teacup I find it tastes all the better, so of course this tea towel immediately appealed:

Teacup Tea Towel, $11

On the subject of Tea (something I really must blog about properly one of these days, it occurs to me), I'd also like to try these scrumptious sounding soaps:

Jasmine Tea Soap, $6

Rooibos Tea Soap, $6

Redbush tea was a favourite of mine long before I discovered Mma Ramotswe (although I'm pleased to sip in such illustrious company), and the delicate fragrance of jasmine always manages to soothe and refresh.

I love both cameos and horses, so this necklace is a perfect combination:

Horse and Foal Necklace, $32

Perhaps it's a good thing I'm not eligible for free shipping -- the most recent installment of my AHRC grant might be disappearing rather quickly! Although, as it is, it does come to the point when, if one buys enough, the shipping cost suddenly appears really rather reasonable... Perhaps I should just give up and accept the inevitable for, as Sir W rather wryly pointed out in his essay 'Of Judgment' (1601),

'All are tempted, many yeeld, few hould out'.

And where pretty things are concerned, I must admit that I somehow generally find myself in the latter category!

Of Catching Up

2009-10-13T21:21:00.010+01:00

Well, that was a slightly longer break than I'd intended! I can't believe it's actually over a month since I last blogged, but life rather Got Too Much for a little while (and we also had the usual faff of setting up the internet -- why do these things always take SO LONG??). I had a great holiday in Rhodes: relaxing in the pool...

... enjoying the beautiful scenery ...

... and eating far too much Good Food ...

Although I think my favourite meal of the holiday has to have been the octopus which my half-brother caught (using a rather fearsome looking spear gun) in the bay which lay at the bottom of our garden. Not something I'm used to in Oxford! There's something so special about a lazy meal outdoors under a blistering blue sky, with the sea lapping away and the sound of cicadas on the breeze. Since I've been back I've tried my hand at recreating a few of the simpler dishes we ate there, although it's never quite the same at home. One of my favourites for a starter or a light lunch is rocket with figs and parma ham, drizzled with balsamic vinegar (admittedly all the better when the figs are from a tree at the bottom of the garden, perilously claimed by clambering along the rocks like a mountain goat, whilst trying not to be tripped up by the *actual* wild goats prancing about the hillside). Watching my dad whiz up some black olive tapenade also inspired me to have a go at making my own for the first time, which I did with the aid of Clotilde Dusoulier's wonderfully easy recipe from her delightful book Chocolate & Zucchini (based on her equally brilliant blog. I also highly recommend her foodie guide to Paris, which skirmishofwit and I used on our trip to the French capital last December).

I made the tapenade as part of a selection of canapes for Our Very First Dinner Party at the New House, and I must admit I'm rather proud to say it proved popular. Yes, that's right, I've moved in, and the house is slowly starting to feel like home. At the moment I'm just awaiting the arrival of a new double bed and a chest of drawers (the landlord obviously has No Conception of the amount of closet space a girl requires). And this morning my mum brought the last load of my stuff from home, so I now have my posters, my books, and all the various bits and pieces that really make a room feel like mine. All I need to do now is finish unpacking... I'm really enjoying settling in, both to the house and to the new area. Although it might sound silly to anyone who knows Oxford, and how small it is, relatively speaking, I barely knew St Clements at all (in fact, I'd rarely made the journey over the Magdalen Bridge...), so it feels quite exciting to have a new space to explore. I'm already starting to find new restaurants, and a new pub has just opened down the road which I'm looking forward to trying.

The past couple of weeks have been busy, with getting back to the swing of things in the library (today I was working in the New College Archives, transcribing a diary from the 1680s -- great fun!), but I've also managed to fit in a couple of trips to London. The weekend before last I went with friends to see A Streetcar Named Desire at the Donmar Warehouse. I was particularly excited about this, as I had actually tried to book tickets alongside my reservations for Life Is A Dream (Dominic West!! *swoon*) and Red, but it had sold out almost immediately -- perhaps due to the casting of Rachel Weisz as Blanche DuBois. So when a friend had a couple of tickets going spare for the penultimate performance, I was all too keen to snap one up. It was my first trip to the Donmar (previously I had only seen their Donmar Westend season at Wyndham's), and I really loved the theatre itself, so I'm looking forward to going back in November for more reasons than just Mr West's presence (*cough*). As for the play itself, I've never actually read it, nor seen the famous film version (although now I want to do both!), so in some ways I guess it was good to see it without too many preconceptions. On the whole, I thought it was a great production: the cast in general was excellent, and Rachel Weisz was both fragile and feisty as Blanche. I particularly liked Ruth Wilson as Stella. The one disappointment was Elliot Cowan as Stanley. Perhaps this is just my personal taste, but I didn't think he had nearly enough charisma or simply just raw sex appeal, and the scenes between him and Weisz were sadly flat: there was really no chemistry there to spark them into life, and the rape scene lacked the emotional punch it needed to deliver to the audience. This was the only downside, however, and on the whole I really enjoyed the performance. After the show (a matinee), we went to Bob Bob Ricard for a pre-dinner drink (I enjoyed my cocktail which I chose on the sole basis that it involved Earl Grey syrup!), which was atmospheric and wonderfully decorated, and we then went on to Vasco and Piero's for an excellent meal afterwards. Both of these places were new to me, but I'd definitely go back to either. We rounded the night off swaying along in Ain't Nothin' But: The Blues Bar, before catching the Oxford Tube home.

I was back in London last weekend, this time staying with skirmishofwit, for some more good food and excellent company. We and some friends enjoyed lovely Japanese and Italian restaurants in Hampstead, a relaxing stroll on the Heath (I was rather glad to be back to the type of walks which don't require The Boots), and even fitted in some retail therapy. When I turned 21 a couple of years ago, my mum took me to Florence for a city break. I had a wonderful time: I loved the city, and could have spent much longer there. One of my discoveries was the Officina Profumo-Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella. Tucked away behind an unprepossessing little door, one enters into a spectacular interior, a space which is beautiful in itself whilst also being filled with the most delicious bath products and perfumes. Founded in 1612 as a monastery, Santa Maria is a now must-visit for anyone at all interested in scent. While I was there I bought some of their honeysuckle perfume -- a delicate and unusual scent which is perfect for every day use. My bottle is now running low, so imagine my delight when I discovered recently that They Have A Branch In London. (Also in Paris, in case you're planning a trip). The London shop is on Walton St in South Kensington, itself definitely worth a visit, and another is shortly due to open near to the Royal Academy (yay!). Although the shop itself is not as beautiful as the Florentine original, the charm of the perfumes has not been diminished, and I was tempted by many (I liked the sound of Nostalgia, which claimed to have a hint of petrol -- one of my Favourite Smells Ever ... yes, I know, the strangeness of this has been commented upon -- but a spritz of it almost knocked me out. It was definitely more of a masculine scent -- in fact, on the right man, I think it would be superb. The trouble, of course, is finding the right man). In the end, however, although Tuberose was a strong contender (rather heavier, and definitely more of an evening scent -- maybe next time!), I remained loyal to my Caprifoglio and came away with another extremely pretty bottle to add to my collection:

Well, it's good to be back, and I shall Be A Better Blogger in future: or at least, like Sir W in the aptly named 'Of Resolution' (1600),

'I write thus, I thinke thus, and I hope to do thus'.

Of Etsy Goodness

2009-09-02T12:38:00.009+01:00

Our flight isn't until 9.20 tonight (meaning we arrive in Rhodes at the ungodly hour of 3.20am - and then have the hour's drive to Lindos from the airport. The joy...), so I thought I would take a quick break from preparations to share my excitement over my first Etsy purchases. Etsy is a wonderful treasure trove of beautiful and unusual handcrafted and vintage items, on sale by talented people across the world (both of my buys came from the States, for example). If you aren't already familiar with it, I highly recommend a browse, although I warn you to have both time and credit card to hand, as it is all to easy to spend an afternoon getting tempted!

I have been thinking for some time about ordering some address labels, as I send a lot of cards and have always rather hankered after a pretty little label to call my own. Thus I was thrilled to find Nicole at Nature's Corridor, with her wonderful collection of labels, business cards, and other Good Things. Unfortunately, the Nature's Corridor shop has just closed, as Nicole moves across the pond to join us here in the UK, and according to her blog, she won't be re-opening for six months or a year. So I'm even more glad now that I bought these lovely labels when I did:

I couldn't choose between the two designs, so...! Well, it's always good to have variety...

On a wave of delight after finding my perfect address labels, I also invested in a wonderful set of 20 cards from Jen at MimiMuseDesigns. The cards are stunning and great value for money. I really recommend the box sets, where you can choose which designs you'd like included, and have them sent to you prettily wrapped up in ribbon. They'd make a delicious Christmas present. These are a couple of my favourites:

My Etsy experiences so far have been great - with amazing products and friendly sellers, and I think I'll definitely be doing a lot of my Christmas shopping on the site this year!

For now, however, I must dash. I arrive back in the UK a week on Thursday, but may not get the chance to blog properly again until I'm settled back in Oxford after the weekend. Until then, as I travel to a different part of the globe once more, I leave you with one of my favourite quotations from Sir W's Essayes, in which he stresses the difference between manuscript and print in the period (a fascinating subject) through this wonderful comparison. This is in fact the opening sentence to the first essay of the first part of the Essayes (from 1600), 'Of Resolution':

'The Worlde is a booke, the words and actions of men Commentaries vpon that volume: The former lyke manuscriptes priuate: the latter common; lyke things printed.'

Of Alpine Books

2009-09-01T17:11:00.029+01:00

Hmm, well, as you can see, 'tomorrow' turned into a few days - apologies about that! I spent last Friday in the British Library, looking at some manuscript commonplace books, which I hoped would be of use to my thesis. In the end they contained nothing too exciting, but I always love leafing through volumes such as these - the little manuscripts in which readers of the past noted down extracts from their own books, often under various themes such as 'vanity', 'fame', 'death', and the like, extrapolating little chunks of wisdom, or simply recording favourite passages for posterity. They are a wonderful record of Early Modern reading habits, and, like the annotations in the margins of old books, have a great gift for taking you back into the past, bringing you almost face to face with those ghostly readers. I stayed in London on Friday night, spending the evening at a flat-warming party for two friends - and hence blogging rather fell by the wayside. Then Saturday was spent journeying back to Oxford (rather earlier than I would have liked after the party of the night before...), packing up, and then travelling home to Staffordshire. My lease on my College room ran out last weekend, so everything has been bundled into bags and boxes and brought home until the lease on my new house begins in mid-September. It will be the first time that I have lived out of New College accommodation since starting there as an undergraduate five (five!) years ago, so I am tremendously excited. The last couple of days I have been at home, doing a million and one things, and preparing for tomorrow - when my mum, grandfather, and I are off to Greece. My father is Greek, and he and his second wife and their son - my fourteen year old half brother - live in Athens, but tomorrow we are going to see them at their house on Rhodes. We will be there for a week, so I am ashamed to say there will be yet another break in my blog - although things will be back to relative order after that, once I am safely tucked up in my new Oxford abode...

But I promised Books at the Chalet, and Books at the Chalet is what you shall have. The one very bad thing about books, at least when one is carrying them in a rucksack, is that they are Rather Heavy. I must admit that there were a few moments on my journey when I cursed myself for having packed quite such a load of them, but then, surely there are few things worse on a reading holiday than running out of reading... Not that I needed to have worried unduly, for it turned out that the Chalet itself housed a rather nice little library - or at least, several shelves in the salon, full of books which had been donated by Chaletites over the years. A few had been enjoyed rather too much by the mice to be of much use (the little creatures seem to have held strong opinions about the Shakespeare authorship question, having methodically nibbled out his name on the spine of the Collected Works...), but there was still a goodly number. You can see a glimpse of the Chalet library here:

The Chalet's library covered a wide range - there were plenty of books about the local region, of course, including Henriette d'Angerville's wonderful account of her petticoated ascent up Mont Blanc in 1838...

Much to my delight, there was also a wide selection of Golden Age mystery novels, and indeed of crime writing throughout the ages. I was very pleased to find one of the Dorothy L. Sayers I was yet to read - The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club - which whiled away a few happy hours on my birthday, as well as a Ngaio Marsh which was new to me - Grave Mistake. I also chanced upon Appleby Plays Chicken by Michael Innes, which I pulled off the shelf after being intrigued by the title, and the fact that the author's name was vaguely familiar to me. I then became hooked into reading thanks to the first line, which informed me not to expect too much excitement from a reading party ... how could I resist? Of course the Devon based reading party of Oxford undergraduates which Innes describes becomes fraught with all sorts of excitement - spies, murders, and cartons of pineapple juice, but it also reassured me that 'New College men don't do much in the blood-letting line', and indeed my own little reading party remained thankfully free of nerve-shredding chases or unexpected pot shots.

Along with these, I even got in a bit of academic reading matter, borrowing Two Antiquaries: A Selection from the Correspondence of John Aubrey and Anthony Wood by Maurice Balme from my former tutor. Aubrey particularly is one of the seventeenth-century characters most dear to my heart, and his Brief Lives - anecdotal and amusing potted biographies of his contemporaries (many of them still well-known names) - are intensely enjoyable. His interests were - as with so many figures of the time - hugely wide-ranging, covering nascent science, archeology, history, literature, and more. Wood, too, is a curious figure, and their long correspondence makes interesting reading. Wood, incidentally, is the fourth narrator of Iain Pears' terrific novel An Instance of the Fingerpost. Set largely in Oxford in the late seventeenth-century (hmm, wonder why that appealed...), it's amazingly well plotted, and combines intelligence and solid research with great pacing, wonderful atmosphere and superb evocation of its historic period. Highly recommended.

I also managed to fit in time to devour some of the books I had taken with me - although typically the one which had added the most weight to my backpack - Forever Amber - remained untouched (I shall be taking it to Greece with me instead). I adored Mariana, which has further convinced me that Persephone Books can do no wrong, and have finished reading the other grey cover which I took with me - The Fortnight in September - just a couple of days ago. I enjoyed that too, but will save my remarks on it until it is time for its discussion at the September meeting of the Oxford Persephone Reading Group, which I shall be attending for the first time this month. My holiday wild card - The Calligrapher - lived up to expectations in being an enjoyable bit of fluff with some funny lines and some added local (to me at least) colour with the references to Donne and various calligraphic hands (even my former tutor was intrigued enough to speed-read it). I very much enjoyed The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie - I thought Flavia was a great heroine and I look forward to reading more of her adventures. My last bit of rucksack reading was The Magic Toyshop - and what can I say, except now I understand what all the fuss was about! Surreal and disturbing, but full of flashes of fire and beauty - I loved it, and can't wait to read more Angela Carter. Apparently there is to be a production of The Magic Toyshop staged by students at the Oxford Playhouse next year; a friend of mine on the Chalet trip will be stage managing it, and borrowed my text to read with interest exactly what he will be working on. I am intrigued to see what they make of it - and await the recreation of the puppet theatre with great anticipation! It could, I think, be a truly spectacular evening.

But the most exciting literary moment of my trip came not from the depths of my much detested rucksack (it was so heavy that when I crouched down to pick something up that I'd dropped at the Metro station in Paris, I became nailed to the floor like a drunken snail ... luckily a gallant Frenchman was on hand to help me up again). Nor from the much thumbed volumes of the Chalet library - although the 'Chalet books' - the diary records of all the trips which have been kept by Chaletites over the past century - made absolutely fascinating reading, and I was thrilled to sign my name to this year's party list, and make my tiny impression in Chalet history. Rather, the great bibliographic thrills came from the Early Modern books which two of the party - one of the New College English tutors, and another man, who used to be a Junior Research Fellow at the College in the '80s - brought along. They brought their books together one morning and ran an informal seminar, or, rather, chatted to us about the things they loved:

We heard about books which had been to China and back, tossed about on stormy seventeenth-century seas; marvelled at the tale of a book which had crossed on the Mayflower to become part of an Englishman's home in the New World; wondered at Early Modern strategies to ward off the Plague (all get together in one room and not eat anything, apparently - no wonder the Black Death saw off so many. We decided we wouldn't pass on this suggestion as a way to cope with Swine Flu...). As you might imagine, I was in seventh heaven...:

And we were all exceptionally smug in the knowledge that neither Univ nor Balliol (the other two colleges with which we co-own the Chalet, and with which we have a 'friendly' rivalry), had never had such treasures at one of their so-called reading parties!

I need to carry on with my packing for Greece now - among which are a few more books! As well as Forever Amber, I'll be tucking my current read - The Lady and the Panda by Vicki Constantine Croke - into my carry-on. This is the amazing true-life tale of the American dress designer and socialite Ruth Harkness, who took over her dead husband's expedition to China in the 1930s to bring back a wild baby panda, and in doing so changed the course of wildlife conservation. I have only just begun it, but it looks to be a fascinating read, one which first came to my attention thanks to Deanna Raybourn's recommendation of it on her fabulous blog. Incidentally, if you are a fan of atmospheric historical murder mysteries with a bit of sizzling romance thrown in, Raybourn's Lady Julia Grey series is great fun (the first is Silent in the Grave, and let me tantalize you by saying it has one of the most brilliant opening lines I have read in a long time). Along with this, I'll be packing Matthew Lewis's 1796 succes de scandale, the Gothic shocker The Monk. I rather sheepishly noted, when picking it off my shelf today, that I bought my copy on 8 April 2005 (I record the date of purchase in all my books, along with my name - it it always rather nice to look back on), so opening its pages is an event long overdue. My ipod is loaded up with an audio book recording of Alexander McCall Smith's Corduroy Mansions, as well as Frances Osborne's The Bolter - a biography of Idina Sackville, the woman who inspired Nancy Mitford's character known by the same title. Hopefully all of this will keep me occupied on the beach!

Now, packing really does call, and, as Sir W announces in his 1600 essay 'Of Censuring', I must sadly say that, for the moment at least,

'I haue done with bookes'.

Luckily Sir W returned to his favourite subject soon after this terrible proclamation, as, no doubt, shall I!