Chill Out and Carry On

Post 2 of the day - so, I've touched on my weekend activities, which are ostensibly the entire purpose of this blog. Stupid afternoon's work cutting off stupid lunch break followed by stupid, stupid traffic on the way home.

Back to Saturday: there was no traffic then, for I was attending a wedding at Penshurst Place, an exquisite stately home. Authentic in every way, including the heating in the chapel:

(This isn't the wedding I attended, it's their stock photo) That brazier is the main source of heat in the ceremonial room: OLD SCHOOL. The windows are high and stained-glass, the roof old and carved, the walls stone. Super historical, wonderful: but apparently the medievals didn't have air con. Well, you learn a new thing every day, don't you?

If I remember correctly, Saturday was- erm' -'unseasonably cold'. Thank goodness for my excessively large collection of vintage coats (I do regret bringing just the one, seriously, I could have layered it up a bit more)- I plumped for my favourite cropped cream faux. It looks so real I got pointed looks and out-and-out queries from some folk (millions of teddies died for my look dahlings). It was twinned with a chinoiserie pencil skirt with gold and green threads, gold wrap cardie, black fitted top and of course plenty of vintage bling (including a faux-vintage black crystal hairband). I'll whack a photo up if I can find one where I'm not goofing around inappropriately with a suit of armour.

The journey back to my dear twinnies' was as hairy as my coat: ice, top of the south downs, piskies, the lot. Wah! Not recommended- everyone else got a coach back (as in a charabank, not a coach-and-four) and hit the bar. Clever so and sos.

And so to Sunday: day of rest. Yeah righto. Day of mooching round the Laines (prior to this, a time for a jacket spud in the BHS cafe: rockin' it granny style! Can't beat it, if it was good enough for Gran, it's good enough for me).

So where to go? My favourites:
Evolution: Like walking back into 1998 (a vintage year): upbeat, kisch, hippy, cheap bits and bobs you so don't need. That's the joy of it.
Velvet: Evolution is the rocky kid in the corner of the bar with a guitar and floral DMs, with the Pulp quotation 'Nice one, geezer' 'pon their lips. Velvet is the accidentally perfect girl, the true geek-chic: she comes in with an achingly cute 1960s bicycle and a perfectly fitted dress (from a jumble sale in aid of kittens, natch) with her hair looking perfectly unbrushed. I just realised that the above two points summarise my office (I'm the one in the corner with the floral DMs- and I can't even play the guitar).
Taylors: This is Master Florizel's favourite shop. It being shortly before Christmas, I went in and dropped all my cash on paraphanalia. End of shopping... but if you want to find all the other best shops, look here.

See y'all soon...Master Florizel has made me a hot-vodka-and-vimto, cocktail hour is here...