The view from here

I had one of those weekends that made me wonder if I would ever get to sit down. In my fantasy world I would go to the gym before pootling in the kitchen and then watching crap TV all evening. This weekend involved none of that. Instead I volunteered my services to Emin helping cut back a vine. Comedy moments galore, because think about it, when is it quite frankly the very worst time of year to cut back a vine laden I tell you with red grapes? Yes, this weekend is the correct answer.
I am not talking a carefully nurtured and pruned vine, I am talking Sleeping fucking Beauty's Castle vine, It had spread EVERYWHERE and some, taking no prisoners. I donned wellies and a cagoule, because directly afterwards I was going to the theatre.
I was thoroughly juiced for 2 hours, it mattered not how carefully I clipped the stuff. it just kept on splashing. Plus of course the grapes were riddled with mould and flies and wasps. The joy!
I did skulk off for a bacon butty before passing the baton to his niece and collecting Leyla to go and see a rather saucy production at The Royal Court, called Jumpy. The premise was the relationship between a rattled mother turning 50 and a dysfunctional teenage daughter. Throw into this mix a childless friend in need of a relationship and the usual sprinkling of feckless men all on a pure white stage and you pretty much have the premise.
There was much that was good, there were however too many opportunities missed. There was way too many swear words for Leyla nudity and a rather risque burlesque routine. But she loved it. She on a couple of occasions nodded like a wise sage at the dialogue, but overall I felt the daughter was too hammy and over written. Teenagers are far more subtle than this one was and I came away feeling it was a missed opportunity.
I then persuaded Leyla to get the bus to Knightsbridge so I could indulge in my favourite pastime, COS. There is a new store open near Harrods and it has been a while...I tired on various bits and pieces, much was lovely, more was laughable, and I purchased another jumper. So you see I have stuck to my rules with considerable success, sadly the weather is not playing ball and the climate remains a little balmy for a wool jumper. But my day will come.
Now having poured scorn on Mary Portas recently it has been her turn to pour a little back on COS, I now realise she does not get it at all. The whole grey thing maybe a metaphor for dull, be that metaphor is beautifully cut and produced in some of the best quality fabrics on the high street. Can you for instance go into her outlet and pick up a jersey dress 80% Silk 20% Angora? Does she use the finest Merino Wool, machine washable? The clothes she so damns with feint praise are classics, we wear them year in year out with minor updates very little dates. I know where my money is spent, I wonder if women are still spending in her shop?Bitch over .

Supper at Kulu Kulu was amazing, really, I could have eaten that sushi until me belly exploded! It nearly did
The rest of my weekend was shop, clean, walk dog, boring, boring, boring. No gym...again.

I returned to work to a very magnanimous email from Mother, who was hurt by my comment written for last weeks Identity post. I am guilty as charged and as always have tried to gloss over the elephant in the room ( my deep seated rage) and put it down to artistic license for a drama queen.
Yes I know I am papering over the cracks, I am too old for anything else.

Finally, I am pleased to report that due to a small unexpected weight loss* I am wearing two items from my wardrobe that have languished unloved and forgotten, a long slate grey jumper from GAP sale last year over a ling tube jersey skirt. A year ago this would = sausage, now it looks quite sleek and very classic. The downside is that a once favourite combo from last year now drowns me and can no longer be worn.

* Yes I too loathe smug cows who, with little effort drop a dress size. That has not happened, rather a few skipped meals have shrunk my back fat that's all.