Out and About: Fine(ish) dining for Mr G's birthday

I missed Mr G's birthday this year. I was away on Wonder Hen. I felt bad so I bought him a Birthday Hoe.

Get your minds out of the gutter. I also bought him a spade and a rake, amongst other things. He's getting old - he asked for gardening stuff. Boring!

Anyway, to make up for missing his actual birthday, I took Monday off work, partly for Wonder Hen recovery, but mainly for a little bit of a birthday celebration and present shopping.

I managed about 30 mins more than usual as a lie in and then we hustled to London for breakfast at The Wolseley. I've been wanting to try their famous breakfast for a long time now, and seeing as Mr G is a bit of an eggs benedict aficionado it was the perfect place to get the day started. We even spotted a few (slightly) famous faces in there. Well, Mr G did... him and his sister are experts at it. I saw no one, mainly becuase I was concentrating hard on my pancake stack. Mmmmm-mmm.

Next stop was the Burlington Arcade where Mr G was very patient whilst I salivated over some Laduree and Lulu Guinness delicacies. I also may have purchased some.... Naughty Mrs G.

The second part of the birthday plan involved a tour of the various Nespresso boutiques in the capital to pick a machine and some capsules. Now we're 31 we felt it was time to properly join the Grown Up Club and buy a new coffee machine.

I can't write about it twice, it still boggles my mind, so watch out later for a full post. Let me tell you this much, it was BIZARRE!

To celebrate joining Nespresso Club we plonked ourselves in the Parlour at Sketch for some champagne and patisserie. Again, I've been wanting to dine here for a long time, but my lemonade budget doesn't really stretch to my champagne tastes except on special occasions. I thought Mr G would appreciate the bonkers decor and I was in my Kitsch Clutter element. The highlight has to be the space pod toilets, accessorised with a real life French maid. Bonkers.

After that we rolled home to chill on the sofa for a while (I blogged about Wonder Hen and Mr G read his Nespresso manual from cover to cover. Twice) and then we met Family G for dinner.

So that's it. We're both now 31. We're both old. All exciting blog posts will now cease and will be mainly about the various coffees we can make with our newest kitchen gadget and the gardening he's doing with all his new implements...

Bet you're well excited.

Wacey in Wedding-Land: The Wonder Hen

Today I feel so happy, but so sleepy. Sleepy like a Dormouse maybe?

Yesterday I got home from what shall henceforth be known as The Wonder Hen. One of my Disney Princess besties, Claire, is getting married in June. To celebrate, we embarked upon a hen do of epic proportions to Matlock Bath and loosely themed around Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through the Looking Glass (OMG, OMG. OMG!!!). Let me expand...

On Friday afternoon we convened Chez Wacey and boarded the Booze Bus for...

Wacey's Journey to Wonderland

Wacey's Wonder Bus

Two (almost three) toilet stops before reaching Watford, thrice around a north London one way system, multiple "beep and waves" and four replays of a Musical Extravaganza compilation CD (Guess the Hen that picked the song! Guess! Guess!) and we arrived at Portland House c1870 in Matlock Bath to a glass of welcome fizz and a mini house tour.

Hiding behind the bar (yup, there was a bar room, complete with vintage billiard table, jelly-mould chandelier and iPod-wearing taxidermy. Totes. A. Maze. a whole house of Kitsch Clutter) were two very special guests that had been little house elves all morning, allocating rooms, stocking the giant fridge and decorating every nook and cranny with glitter and glitz. There were tears. It was glorious.

We all found our beds, rummaged in our welcome pack goody bags (Haribo - YES!!!!), ran around like Mallory Towers characters full up on e-numbers (or in fact prosecco and rocky road mini bites) for an hour or so and then convened in the dining room for home-cooked lasagne, salad and caramel roulade. Yum.

Room allocation

Then the door bell rang....

"STRIPPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" screamed the Bride-to-Be as she peeked through the curtains.

Nope. Mixologist! And so began...
 
Wacey through the Cocktail Glass

We were divided in to two teams, and two at a time got behind the bar to make a number of different cocktails, competing against each other in terms of skill, flair and of course, taste. We rounded off the session with a little competitive cocktail creation, following the mixology rules we'd been taught (something strong, weak, sour and sweet) and a little of our own imagination (hulled out pineapple and a filthy mind), fuelled by the copious amounts of alcohol consumed for the past seven hours!


Cocktail competitiveness

I'm not at all biased when I say that my team was clearly the winning team. We used a whole pineapple for goodness sake. How could we lose?

After all that excitement we burned off all those calories with sofa dancing, karaoke singing screeching and Gangnam Styling in our PJs and Onesies.

Pineapple?

Saturday morning began with shouts of "ORANGE JUICE!" from one of the first floor bedrooms and slowly we began crawling from our beds to help ourselves to coffee, tea, toast, crumpets and warm pastries for breakfast before getting ready for...

Mad Wacey's Tea Party!

We all got dressed up either as characters from Alice in Wonderland or tea party guests, with the bride taking the role of the Mad Hatter, and made our way down a very steep hill to a local pub for a photo shoot. The idea being that as the bride is a stylist, we'd provide her with a Harpers Bazaar/Vanity Fair style photo shoot to get her teeth in to. I was the caterpillar and to put a slightly more "photo-shoot-glam" spin on the costume, rather than local am-dram production, I took inspiration from the smoking characteristic and turned the costume in to a bit of a Holly Golightly-esque caterpillar... slinky dress, hair piled up, long gloves all accessorised with a hookah pipe in place of a cigarette holder. Everyone put in so much effort and the morning was a kaleidoscope of colour full of glitter, glitz, sequins (fake) cake and bonkers props. Our squeals of delight and extravagant costumes took the quaint little town by storm as we trooped through the middle of the road to pose by the river/hang off signs/lay in the road/hold up the traffic etc etc etc.

We worked up a good appetite with all that posing, seat rotating (as seen in the film) and attention -grabbing antics in the village and so we climbed back up the hill for an actual tea party back at the house with finger sandwiches, giant scones and miniature cakes. And of course fizz. Always fizz.

Time for (actual) tea...

This Way? That Way? - The Scavenger Hunt

The team line up

After tea, cakes and fizz (and unsuccesful attempts at glitter removal) we all gathered in the garden in our team t-shirts for our pre-scavenger hunt briefing, accessory collection (ears, wigs, glasses and tashes - guess which my team got?) and team tactic talks. I was team leader for the greens (aka The Snot Rockets) and my team talk went something like this: "Hustle hard. Run fast. Survival of the fittest. WIN!"

The mid-afternoon bonus point checkpoint required a cable car trip to the top of the Heights of Abraham (eeeeeek!) to meet at the entrance to an old mine. We then took a short tour of the underground caverns (more eeeeek!), learning about minerals, mining, miners and a teeny bit of geology before hustling for the 100 points for being the first ones back.

WINNERS!!!!! Yay!

Prizes for the Mr and Mrs Game

Some snacking and chatting in the late afternoon sunshine provided a little bit of down time before the madness of the ubiquitous Mr and Mrs game which got us all excited for...

Wacey in the Looking Glass

Back down that sheer drop in our killer heels to the local pub which, we discovered, had not only a great taste in wallpaper, but also a live band performing excellent covers of some of our fave rock songs and power ballads. Score! We ate dinner and danced the night away in our own private area in our "looking glass" wigs (bright red, to mirror Claire's Ariel-esque locks), shocked the locals with a little bit of stage invasion and then clamped on our cleats and carabiners to climb back to the house for more onesie/unitard sofa dancing, a little bit of musical beds and then deep, deep sleep!

Off with their heads! The Queen's Shooting Ground

Sunday began with bacon sandwiches and tea in the sunshine then we all wrapped up and headed off for clay pigeon shooting... which was less about the shooting and more about girly giggling as we teased the poor instructor every time his gun-related innuendos accidentally slipped out! Oops.

Top marks for our chief hen for 5-out-of-5 on her first round only to be surpassed by Rina-Hen for her double hit (there is a technical term but I forgot it. I suppose the archery equivalent would be splitting the arrow!).

Bang... Bang!

a clay pigeon massacre

After all that excitement and massacring of clay pigeons we popped in to a cute local fish and chip shop for a Daily Special (fish, chips, mushy peas, bread and butter, tea and ice cream for £5.75 - since you asked) then a short walk home to pack up and re-board the Booze Bus, which actually became the Snooze Bus for the trip back to London.

Oh how well I slept that night.

Once I'd edited and uploaded all my hundreds of photos... obvs.

So, to finish I'd like to tell you what I learned on Claire's Wonder-Hen:

1. The sun actually will come out tomorrow
2. The monkey fell out of his bunk (BANG)
3. He was NOT drunk (HIC)
4. Those safety tips on not wearing iPods when out running after dark are probably true. Even for woodland creatures.
5. Some mixologists are actually just mixologists
6. ...and their girlfriends are not in appreciation of stripping requests.
7. Walsh's Love Juice must always be drunk from a pineapple
8. ... as must everything else...
9. Particularly ORANGE JUICE
10. ...which will magically appear in your room if you shout it loud enough
11. Matlock Bathonians have been mining lead galena for hundreds of years
12. Mountain climbing is optional, but for some, it's necessary. Even in wedge trainers and flip flops.
13. Is is also totally acceptable to rock climb in glittery stilettos and a Chanel sequinned tuxedo. There's a handrail. What's your problem?
14. There IS in fact taramasalata in the fridge
15. Gemma did not buy any of the presents. Well, maybe one.
16. Claire should join the cast of the Muppet Show. And so should the bassist.
17. Matlock Bath has a warm enough climate that a gilet can be worn with no other under garments
18. But also cold enough that bobble hats must be worn indoors
19. Just because he sounds like Jon Bon Jovi, does not mean he looks like Jon Bon Jovi
20. Shoe phone always tells you what you want to hear
21. Parklife is not often on the play list of a rock legend cover band night. Nor is Ooops Upside Your Head.
22. Sleeping Rabbis is TOTALLY a game
23. God is Omnipotent. He can hear you singing both in and outside the church yard.
24. The verger is not.
25. Not everyone is called John
26. ...but most people are
27. If you're right handed, you can do things, like play air guitar and pool with your other hand...
28. ... except point
29. Don't write in the damage book until all buses have vacated the premises
30. A broom handle is a perfect replacement for a safety door 

Until the wedding....

xoxo

More Lulu Love

Last week in the office, we stumbled across the Lulu Guinness range for Uniqlo. She's popping up everywhere are the moment. I snaffled up a tote just recently in Sainsbury's for Comic Relief. It makes me smile in the mornings!

Anyway, back to Uniqlo. The tops are so cute with just the right amount of Lulu's quirky details thrown in, so you don't look like you shopped in Mothercare. I think, from the range, these are my faves:

Lulu Guinness for Uniqlo cat t-shirt

 

Lulu Guinness for Uniqlo doll face t-shirt



Lulu Guinness for Uniqlo stripe t-shirt

I'm already seeing the cat t-shirt with a pair of skinny black jeans, my pink Louboutins and my Lulu Lips clutch, I'm dreaming about the doll face t-shirt with jeans and my white converse, but most of all I cannot wait to get that black and white stripey t-shirt on with my pink trousers and some killer heels.

I also found this little Toy Story beauty - it'll make a perfect birthday gift for Mr G, don't you think?

Pub furniture kleptomania

On Easter Sunday, The Mister and I went out for a lovely late lunch at a local pub.

He'd been working all weekend so it was a nice time to catch up, eat some scrummy food, consume a little bit of late-afternoon fizz and generally chill out together.

It's a quirky little place full of mis-matched furniture, kitsch decor (you know I love kitsch) and hidden snuggly corners.

It was in one of those corners that I spied this little beauty:

I wanted to steal it SO badly... but, you know, with The Mister's job being dependent on law-abiding-citizen-ness (although, aren't most?) and all, he was less than enthusiastic about my idea to cause a distraction while I tried to hot-foot it out the door with a brightly coloured armchair.

Hmph.

Amazingly, my buddy Jasmine recognised the chair (I Instagrammed, Tweeted and Facebooked it almost immediately upon sight - obvs) and found me a link to buy my very own.

Shall we all chip in and rotate it bewteen us?

Miss Etoile Cute Eyes

Cute by name, cute by nature!

I believe my husband will pack up and leave if I buy these and install them in our home.

But how totes adorbs are they?

Miss Etoile Cute Eyes milk jug

Miss Etoile Cute Eyes sugar bowl



Miss Etoile Cute Eyes teapot lamp



Miss Etoile Cute Eyes large jug

Maybe I can sneak in the little sugar bowl for my bedside table...

If you can't say something nice...

... then at least spell check it!

I saw this article on Emerald Street and I loved it so much I just had to share.

Check out this Tumblr feed. It's like a mash up of your English homework and Banksy.

I know I'm getting old, but how much do I want to join The Tutor Crowd in their campaign against poor grammar and incorrect spelling in street graffiti?

So much.

Not sure I'm cool enough though.

Or, more importantly, clever enough.

*idles back through past blog posts looking for all the typos my dad keeps mentioning...*

Who wants to come on a sticker search in London with me...

Wear sunscreen

Remember this?

We were talking about it at work this week. It makes my skin tingle with nostalgia as I get sentimental about times past. It makes my brain fizzle with anticipation as I think about the times to come... 

 

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99 - Wear Sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience… I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh never mind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You’re not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing  bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you

Sing

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss

Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind, The race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40. Maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary... whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance
Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on.

Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasise that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you.

Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it.

Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen…

When I Grow Up...

One of my besties, more specifically one of my Disney Princesses is turning Thirty this month!
To celebrate, she's having a "When I Grow Up..." party. That is, we all have to come dressed as what we wanted to be when we grew up.

Easy peasy...

I wanted to be a... erm, well, I defo wanted to be one of those... OH! I couldn't wait to train as a... ooo ooo ooo! I forgot about being a...

Not so easy. I wanted to be lots of things. I still do in fact. I don't just get dress/hair/make up/handbag envy, I also get job envy.

I watch a cookery programme and I think I want to be all shouty and in charge and re-train as a chef (really I hate even going near the kitchen, let alone working in one for a living). I watch One Born Every Minute/Call the Midwife and think that I want to help people through the most important moments of their lives and be a midwife (and yet, I have zero patience, hate physical contact with other humans and have the worst bedside manner, and no desire to improve it). I watch things like The Salon or TOWIE and think I want to wear a cute uniform and be a beautician (but I'm rubbish at small talk and fill awkward silences with brainless babble about all the stupid things I do and generally annoy people). I watch Hotel Babylon and think that I want to be all glam and work at a five star hotel and learn the secrets of the stars (even though the thought of working those unsociable hours makes me want to run a mile). I watched Pan Am or Britney's Toxic video and decided to become an air hostess and travel the world with my friends all week and wear a cute uniform (even though I hate early mornings, find airports the most stressful places on earth and air travel dries my skin out like dessicated fruit).
Seriously, I watch things, read things, hear people talk about things and I change my mind fifteen times a day about what I want to be when I grow up... Photographer, make up artist, florist, interior designer, air hostess, window dresser at Selfridges, journalist... the list is endless.

So, I was finding it quite difficult to work out what to dress up as. Some of my most memorable childhood/teenage career plans are outlined below, for your reading pleasure.

You will notice that I didn't gender discriminate...

A Naval Aviator - specifically, Maverick.

When I first saw Top Gun, back at primary school, I became obsessed with becoming a naval aviator. The camaraderie, the uniforms, the nick names, the energy. Not to mention flying THE coolest planes, and racing THE coolest bikes. All that high energy whizzing about. Brilliant! That was it, when I grew up, I was going to be a female Maverick.

Then my mum told me I'd have to do maths and physics at A Level.

Back to the drawing board.

A Cheerleader - specifically Buffy, she of vampire slaying fame.

Kristy Swanson was the original Buffy (and the best if you ask me). She wore the original cheerleader outfit and spat drawing pins at flies in the principal's office. She cheered about how funky our chickens were (FUNKY!) and about the looseness of our goose (TOTALLY loose!). She rocked.

Thus, I decided that when I grew up I would be a Cheerleader.

Vampire slaying was less of an appealing career choice.

Back to the drawing board.

A Buxom Red Head Club Singer - Specifically Jessica Rabbit

That dress? That hair? I could take singing lessons, get a boob job and join a gym. Done.

Marry a Rabbit with a speech impediment?

Back to the drawing board.

A PA with Attitude by Day, A Latex-Wearing, Crime-Fighting Bad Ass by Night - Specifically Selina Kyle a.k.a. Catwoman

I don't like cats, heights or dying.

I also love penguins*.

Problemo.

Back to the drawing board.

A Spaceship Pilot (with a big furry best friend) - Specifically Han Solo

He got to do all the cool stuff - rescuing royalty, laser shooting, intergalactic space travel, spaceship piloting etc, but without all the added pressure of being The Chosen One.

Not sure how I feel about being frozen and kept as living artwork by a fat slimy alien though.

Back to the drawing board.

An Accidental Space Ship Pilot - Specifically Captain Steven Hiller

So this dude is a combination of Maverick and Han Solo. Fly planes > run in to some alien life forms > kick their butts > save the world > smoke a cigar.

But for the same reasons above (relating to physics and a dislike for slimy aliens), back to the drawing board.

A Paleobotanist Dino Nerd - Specifically Dr Ellie Sattler

She rocks a knotted shirt and safari shorts. She knows that West Indian Lilac makes triceratops tongues a bit skanky. She's not averse to rummaging in poo for the answers. She knows all about dinosaurs (and you know how I am a closet dino geek) and she basically saves all the guys' asses by re-booting the power systems when the staff all get eaten by Raptors.

Some minor problemos - I need more make up than that otherwise I look scarier than a T-Rex, I need a more defined silhouette in my outfits, I'm not a big lover of poo-rummaging and I can kill plants just by looking at them.

And, oh yeah, dinos don't exist. Anymore.

Back to the drawing board.

*******

Do you see my issue? When career advisors told me to "be realistic", they really, really meant it.

So... what to dress up as?

Well I found a really cute brown and white polka dot dress in my wardrobe the other day... but perhaps that's not one for a party where I'll be asked the question: "so what future career choice have you come as"..

Hmmmmmm.

I'll keep you posted..

* Second favourite animal.

Dior Addict

I need your help! I am Victoria and I am a Dior Addict.

No no. Not the perfume.. the clothes! Is there anything more feminine than a classic Dior silhouette? The waist, the pouff, the hat... J'adore Dior... sorry, I couldn't resist another perfume pun.

Everyone knows how much I love a nipped in waist and a big pouffy skirt, not to mention a statement hat. I practically have Vivien of Holloway on speed dial for special occasions and if you follow my Pinterest feeds you'll notice two very distinct dress shapes filling up my "Dress Envy" and "My Style" boards.

My most recent VoH outing!

Of course it's no coincidence that my fave dress from awards season was a Dior delicacy, and that my newest girl crushes (they would be Marion Cotillard and Jennifer Lawrence in case you hadn't been following) are Dior's newest faces.

So anyway, I have about twenty weddings to go to this year (as per usual) and I'm pretty much sorted for outfits... for all but one. For that one I would like to find a very, special and particular outfit. Not least because the bride is a celebrity stylist, no less!

Luckily I have a definitive idea of what that outfit looks like.

Unluckily I don't have the means to make it happen.

It basically looks like this Dior dress...

... or perhaps this dress, but in a less sombre colour... 

... or this dress in a less wedding-dressy colour....

 

...or one of these skirts...

...and perhaps this coat-dress for when it gets cold in the evening.

So, to the bit where you help me...

Question 1) Any ideas where I can get a high street rip off of any of the above?

If no, then this brings me to Question 2) Does anyone know any millionaires looking to help poor designer-clothing-deprived Dior Addicts achieve their dream of one day owning haute couture (I'd also settle for ready-to-wear), or perhaps have a knack for predicting next week's lottery numbers?

I'm sorted for accessories, so no need to worry about those at this stage.

Thanks in advance,

Dior-Deprived of Essex.

Replacing The Perfect Wedge...

Every summer I buy a new pair of wedges. And then never wear them. Why? Well, let me explain...

I bought a pair about ten years ago that I just adore. They are The Perfect Wedge.

They are gold leather with a neutral wedge. They have a strappy front, a bit of a peep toe, a sling back and a curved sole that makes them easier to walk in than the completely flat wedges. Even on cobbles. They were the last pair in their style bought for about twenty quid in a Faith sale (remember Faith?) at Lakeside.

I LOVE them so, so, so much. They go with everything. Literally, EVERYthing. Ok, maybe not socks. Actually, they probably would.

They are comfy, they manage to tone down my cankles and take a few pounds off my legs with their shape and they are light enough to pack in a corner of my carry on luggage for weekends away in the sun.

I'm telling you - The Perfect Wedge.

The problem is, I know that one day they will die on me. So for the last eight years I've been trying to find The Perfect Wedge Replacement. This means I have bought countless pairs of Potential Perfect Wedges, which I try out for a few weeks and then return to The Perfect Wedge in disappointment, but secretly pleased about the reunion.

I often begrudgingly wear the Imperfect Wedges between Perfect Wedge wears, so as to prolong Perfect Wedge's longevity. It's a science, people.

Anyway... Behold!! This year's Potential Perfect Wedge...

And they have stripes... bonus!