Flower power and other scrap book love

I could not wear such girly stuff now but this page from American Elle is so perfect for a sultry day in July. I guess a flowery tote would be fun.

I recently spent many happy hours sifting through some old American Elle magazines. I prefer the American version because of the styling and that many of the shoots are done in such sunny places. Not sunny like English sunny, but that gorgeous crystal clear sun that creates rich vibrant colours from nothing.

I love the combination of shape and colour in the image above. I have a couple of cardies that colour but have yet to brave a yellow skirt.

I covet this jacket so much.

The colours in above and below are stunning. I am way past this clash to match but many images like this influence my painting. Not that I have painted all year. How depressing is that?

It has been the first year for a long time that I failed to produce anything creative. I realise of course that I am not including my photography in that statement, and in fact that has improved in leaps and bounds. I am also so pleased that i have finally got to grips with the scanner, so the outlook is not so blue.

I will make more effort next academic year to complete a small project. I realised to day that I have a bad habit of thinking that I need to clear my paper work before painting, but today I had an epiphany moment and realised that I would have to timetable it into my schedule just like a lesson that way I will develop the discipline to do something.

My favourite 'look' I covet this tunic but would struggle to find an occasion to wear it.

I confess to spending money last weekend. Guess where? yep COS again, now officially my favourite shop. Unbelievably I bought a dress! shock horror, I never fit into dresses, they had my size and it was half price. It is my Audrey Hepburn moment.

Yes you guessed it I also bought ANOTHER grey cardie, boxy charcoal with cute pockets.

Also a lovely navy t-shirt.

That place is sartorial gold at the moment.

Cruising the blogs I was directed to the J Crew web site which has named my favourite style of trousers as' tooth-pick' how cute is that? Over here they are called ankle grazers, not so cute.

What is less cute was the price! how on earth do you afford the stuff from that shop? Our weak pound makes them VERY pricey.

Hence my love of all things COS and Uniqlo.

Oh Oh Oh guess who is coming to design for them then? answer here

My tent is pitched.

Dear Mother

Dear Mother

I think it would be a good idea for future reference to avoid any discussion what so ever anywhere of the calorific value of anything within a 3 mile radius of your youngest daughter.

She is fat deal with it, she makes occasional efforts to lose weight, but quite clearly it is not coming off at quite the astonishing speed she put it on.

I realise that none of what you say is in any way remotely or directly related to what she is holding in her hand as a prospective purchase or thinking of choosing from the menu. But again I implore you just think it, do not say it. Politics would be a less volatile subject.

And what ever you do, it is pointless trying to couch it as a joke. You do not do humour, I agree you have the capacity to laugh, but the day you say something even remotely amusing I will put the bunting out. It is, I am sad to say mother, your misfortune to have the inability to say anything that does not sound like cruel and barbarous criticism. This is probably based on the fact that we grew up with that cruel and barbarous tongue of your and so that is what we are programmed to expect.

Ha, I hear you say, if that was the case, why is your youngest daughter so ridiculously sensitive to what you say? Well it is because she is an over sensitive stroppy cow who has not had her patience gene honed like myself by 3 demanding children and a Neanderthal moron who passes himself off as my partner.

Years of solitary confinement have inevitably led to her sadly taking most of what we say at face value. She’s YOUR daughter, learn to zip it up and behave.

Yours (the one with endless patience and slightly less overweight than the others)

Your eldest

Hampstead

How perfect is this look. I love the proportions and the colour of her bag.This look was indicative of many I saw on a sunny afternoon as I stepped out of Hampstead tube station. I had managed to clear all my paperwork. I taught my lessons and then rushed to get a train to the far flung Northern climes of this city.

I need not have rushed. I got their far too quickly and so had an couple of hours to kill before the place I wanted to see opened.

So I did what any self respecting adventurera would do. I bought a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel and a rich chocolate truffle from the Hungarian bakery and walked to the top of the hill for a picnic.
As I walked up the hill I went past this stunning house. I LOVE this style of architecture. Inside a couple in their late seventies were getting ready to go out, they looked so comfortable and the house looked so lived in. Just perfect, I started to play that game, you know the one where you imaging what it would be like to live this life?

I then saw a stunning house through the bars of this gate. It opened in half an hour and better still sold a combined ticket to the other place I was waiting to open. Outside were another couple of octogenarians (no different ones) snoozing on a bench, they too were waiting for the place to open, so I wandered some more.

I saw this house, once lived in by Constable. he described his paintings as Skying "That landscape painter who does not make his skies a very material part of his composition, neglects to avail himself of one of his greatest aids"

Round the corner, The Admirals House, a real monster.

As I finally walked round the corner to visit Fenton House I spied this gorgeous building. I peeked over the wall to see a stunning view and a very clipped and manicure topiary garden.

Once inside Fenton House one of the wardens conspiratorially told me it belonged to Ridley Scott. "He's a film director you know, they say he's made lots of films including one called Gladiator, not that I've seen it. He's never there," Talk about dammed with feint praise!

Still it is a stunning house.

So here we are, whilst I waited for 2 Willow Road to open, I went round this oasis of calm and tranquility.
Complete with sunken gardens and an orchard.

With deep flowering boarders.

Even the toilet had a touch of class.

I was very lucky that quite a few other people were looking around too. They provided an excellent distraction, so that I could take these guerrilla photographs.

I overheard a couple ask if they could take photographs, they were told no. Apparently "the Japanese always ask, and even when told no they then try to take photographs from the window" Scandalous I say. Ha, I set my camera on sneaky silent and papped away.

Seriously though what harm does it do?

I had to work quickly and with stealth, hence the lack of composition.

You must admit it is a lovely house and to think I found it by accident.

Two icons of beauty, that is the ubiquitous Holly Bush Pub on the left and on the right "Yellow Car" do your kids slap each other when they see a yellow car? mine do. This one was cute though.
And so to 2 Willow Road.

• Designed by Modernist architect Ernö Goldfinger for himself and his family
• Complete with original contents including furniture designed by Goldfinger

I have had somewhere a small pamphlet about this place for what seems like years. I knew little about the background, but my memory was jogged after seeing those photographs by Veronica Bailey at the V&A.

Walking inside the house it felt as if the owners had just walked out to buy a pint of milk.

It has the patina of age and yet still feels contemporary. All the rooms seamlessly meld together to create a unified space, a large balcony overlooks a stunning garden. It is much smaller and shabbier than I expected and yet the intimacy makes it feel like it was a much loved home rather than like so many contemporary houses today, which to me, lack the human touch.

I could happily have moved in, sadly it is north of the river which is beyond my remit.

Oh and of course it is owned by the National Trust and therefore not for sale.

My ire was irked by the DO NOT Take Photo stance. Again I ask why? What is so bad. This time the eagle eyed guides were younger and wholly sussed to my ways, and so not one photograph did I get to take. Criminal.

If you are ever in the area I urge you to go it maybe small be it evokes such an amazing life fully and richly lived.

Mad Men

Like an expensive box of chocolates I tried to savour series 1 of Mad Men. Having become completely addicted after a few episodes of series 2 I was looking forward to filling in some of the missing pieces.

At first I rationed myself to a couple of episodes at a time. Then just like a box of chocolates thought "sod it" and gorged myself senseless, only the law of diminishing returns kicked in.

So once more I paced myself, until faced with the penultimate episode, I am now going to wait and savour the last two during the holiday, that is of course if the rest of the gang allow it. Meanwhile I hear you lucky American cousins will begin your fix with series 3 mid August.

I WANT THIS COAT

I love the clothes, and spent a happy hour reading about how they are sourced and remade. I had not realise they were all vintage or just how much thought went into the style and colour of the men's suits.

My absolute favourite part of the whole series is the sound. Especially if you listen to it on a computer with headphones. The sound is so utterly perfect, the chink of ice in a glass, the noise of traffic outside. It is all perfect.

I struggled with the smoking and drinking, until I opened up a deep memory and realised that it was not so long ago people smoked on trains and buses and lunchtime drinking was de rigeur

The sexism is more painful to watch, and I guess in a way we should marvel that it is not more

prevalent today, or is it just less obvious?

Image from here

This and the top image from here

If there is one thing all teachers over 40 are good at, and I mean gold medal championship winning bloody brilliant at. It is harking back to the good old days.

We stand arms folded like Rigsby in his kitchen, "yes do you remember when..."

The R.E teacher in the room next door started the day with a mug of tea laced with whisky from a bottle he kept in his filing cabinet? (Ha now you know what those filing cabinets are used for!)

When you pushed in front of the kids in the queue.. at the bar of the local pub?

Do you remember when you forgot to go back to work and teach the last lesson?

When you left students behind on a school trip because they were late?

When all the male invigilators of the GCSE exam went to the back of the hall and mooned the kids?

You could thwack the arse of a child with a ruler, simply because he was leaning out of the window instead of working? When you could flick their ears for being rude?

Obviously this is just idle chit chat that I have over heard. Absolutely none of this was me.

Even so my life is just so full of bloody data analysis, self evaluation , risk assessment forward planning, etc, etc, etc Boring boring navel introspective crapola.

What happened to this profession?

Do we really have to be, well professional all the time?

I am currently liking the fact that;

The Apple Mac does not recognise arse or crapola as real words.

That Daisy left her Apple mac behind whilst she wades through gallons of water in some ditch in Wales.

That I am double booked on Sunday, so sadly will miss seeing Leyla getting her butt kicked in, again.

From the sublime to the ridiculous

On Friday I went to a beautifully staged production of All's Well That Ends Well at The National. The design lent heavily on the illustration we see for the brothers Grimm fairy tales, very magical. Sadly my theatre partner had high tailed it to Wales on an activity week so my sister came instead, she normally won’t stick her generous arse on a seat costing less than £40 but she was pleasantly surprised at how good the view was for £10, and she bought me supper. Mmm maybe this trade could be permanent!

The following day I was coerced into going to Thorpe Park. Dear God I am way too old for this kind of day out now. I used to take coach loads of students to any number of theme parks and whoop it up on the rides, but now my idea of fun is a gentle stroll round an art gallery.

Emin decided we MUST go as a day out for the au pair before she goes back to Turkey. She absolutely was not keen on the idea, but just as a man will buy his child a remote control car then play with it himself, so this day was really about Emin. The side benefit was Leyla had a wonderful day.

I however got bloody whiplash on the first ride. I will never understand what the pleasure is in queuing for 2 bloody hours, to then be thrown around like a rag doll for 20seconds with my eyes shut. I am all for big swings and sudden drops but this ride was horrible.

I luckily managed to look after Leyla for the next 3 hours whilst he tortured the au pair. I then got to go on lots of more sedate affairs before hooking up for lunch. Sadly I over did it, and fell quite queasy by 5pm!

I did remind him when we got home, as I crawled into bed, that I am pushing 50, and really that will be the last time I do it.

I am now sat nursing a sore neck

Masao Yamamoto

Masao Yamamoto
Originally uploaded by (ACP 10) Atlanta Celebrates Photography

Currently really loving the random nature of these images. I will add more tonight.

Finally found some on the Hackel Bury Fine Art

I just love the random nature of these images as well as the way they are displayed. Yet another photographer that makes me want to hit the dark room again.