To say that living through the last month has been rather effortful is an understatement. However, sometimes you just gotta keep on keeping on. So, here at AlaraApothecary we have decided to make lemonade from the surfeit of lemons. Pah to all would-be disasters- in God we trust.
For years we’ve had a little dog,
Last year we acquired a big dog;
He wasn’t big when we got him,
He was littler than the dog we had.
We thought our little dog would love him,
Would help him to become a trig dog,
But the new little dog got bigger,
And the old little dog got mad.
Now the big dog loves the little dog,
But the little dog hates the big dog,
The little dog is eleven years old,
And the big dog only one;
The little dog calls him Schweinhund,
The little dog calls him Pig-dog,
She grumbles broken curses
As she dreams in the August sun.
The big dog’s teeth are terrible,
But he wouldn’t bite the little dog;
The little dog wants to grind his bones,
But the little dog has no teeth;
The big dog is acrobatic,
The little dog is a brittle dog;
She leaps to grip his jugular,
And passes underneath.
The big dog clings to the little dog
Like glue and cement and mortar;
The little dog is his own true love;
But the big dog is to her
Like a scarlet rag to a Longhorn,
Or a suitcase to a porter;
The day he sat on the hornet
I distinctly heard her purr.
Well, how can you blame the little dog,
Who was once the household darling?
He romps like a young Adonis,
She droops like an old mustache;
No wonder she steals his corner,
No wonder she comes out snarling,
No wonder she calls him Cochon
And even Espèce de vache.
Yet once I wanted a sandwich,
Either caviar or cucumber,
When the sun had not yet risen
And the moon had not yet sank;
As I tiptoed through the hallway
The big dog lay in slumber,
And the little dog slept by the big dog,
And her head was on his flank.
(Photos: Chandelier by Delightfull; Aquazurra shoes; Fendi 2016 bag: Nigel Slater’s Pistachio, Lime & Cardamom cake; Cucumber Margarita: Bel & Bel chair)
Reasons to be cheerful
To say that living through the last month has been rather effortful is an understatement. However, sometimes you just gotta keep on keeping on. So, here at AlaraApothecary we have decided to make lemonade from the surfeit of lemons. Pah to all would-be disasters- in God we trust.
The spring is sprung, the grass is riz.
I wonder where the boidie is.
They say the boidie’s on the wing.
But that’s absoid. The wing is on the bird.
Excellent reasons to count my blessings this week include-
I leave you with a poem by one of my fave raves, Ogden Nash:
Two Dogs Have I
For years we’ve had a little dog,
Last year we acquired a big dog;
He wasn’t big when we got him,
He was littler than the dog we had.
We thought our little dog would love him,
Would help him to become a trig dog,
But the new little dog got bigger,
And the old little dog got mad.
Now the big dog loves the little dog,
But the little dog hates the big dog,
The little dog is eleven years old,
And the big dog only one;
The little dog calls him Schweinhund,
The little dog calls him Pig-dog,
She grumbles broken curses
As she dreams in the August sun.
The big dog’s teeth are terrible,
But he wouldn’t bite the little dog;
The little dog wants to grind his bones,
But the little dog has no teeth;
The big dog is acrobatic,
The little dog is a brittle dog;
She leaps to grip his jugular,
And passes underneath.
The big dog clings to the little dog
Like glue and cement and mortar;
The little dog is his own true love;
But the big dog is to her
Like a scarlet rag to a Longhorn,
Or a suitcase to a porter;
The day he sat on the hornet
I distinctly heard her purr.
Well, how can you blame the little dog,
Who was once the household darling?
He romps like a young Adonis,
She droops like an old mustache;
No wonder she steals his corner,
No wonder she comes out snarling,
No wonder she calls him Cochon
And even Espèce de vache.
Yet once I wanted a sandwich,
Either caviar or cucumber,
When the sun had not yet risen
And the moon had not yet sank;
As I tiptoed through the hallway
The big dog lay in slumber,
And the little dog slept by the big dog,
And her head was on his flank.
(Photos: Chandelier by Delightfull; Aquazurra shoes; Fendi 2016 bag: Nigel Slater’s Pistachio, Lime & Cardamom cake; Cucumber Margarita: Bel & Bel chair)
Guernsey Pastoral
I am a town mouse, no doubt about it. If I don’t have 10 million people around me, I start wondering if rapture has come and left me behind. Even London can feel too quiet: Manhattan, now you’re talking. Lagos, even better. There are some places which make me extremely appreciative of the quieter life, and Guernsey is one of them. All the images from this post are of places I’ve passed as I’ve ambled to work in the morning. Beauteous, non?
Obviously that does not include the picture of the fabulous repast. Although, come to think of it, if there were stands with amazing food on every corner, Guernsey would be paradise 🙂 …………
No, the food is the handiwork of Mona the Masterchef, and jolly good it was too. So, big shout going out to the Guernsias. By the way, Bob took my previous joke and came back with its excellent riposte:
Q: What do you call a man with a spade on his head? A: Doug
Q: What do you call a man without a spade in his head? A: Douglas
Just a few things the Guernsey crew need to be aware of:
I leave you with a joke worthy of the Bobmeister himself:
Q: Why did the Mexican push his wife off a cliff? A : Tequila
Apologies to all Mexicans everywhere. Please do not write in.
Purple Prose
This blog is not much given to dealing with the latest micro-trend or celeb-worship but Prince was special. I saw him in concert three times and he was always superfantabuloustic. That wonderful mix of musical virtuosity, craziness, and sheer, raw talent does not occur all that often, as even the most cursory examination of the current music chart will show. It was just incredible to see someone making the most of his gifts with such verve and style. I overheard a conversation at the hotel today, where one guest was telling another that Prince had died. When he was asked ‘which prince?,’ he replied ‘the musician’. I thought to myself, ‘Yep, that’s right; not the popstar or singer or music mogul. A musician – the real deal’. That’s exactly what he was, and his riffs are still being referenced in young artistes’ work today.
So, we are having a purple day in honour of the Purple One today. To all my fellow Prince fans who attended the concerts and listened to the music with me, the music lives on. I know Roya, Folabi and Reema will be as saddened as I am even though we didn’t personally know the man. So, farewell Prince. May flights of angels guide you to your rest, as I hope they will do for me when I skedaddle and leave these shores behind. I hope I can leave behind a legacy of having done at least one thing as well as he made music. Redeem the time, because the days are evil. I wish you all a weekend filled with beauty and laughter and joy.
Panama Palaver
Here I am in sunny Guernsey once again. It is a complete coincidence that I have visited both Jersey and Guernsey in the months of the Panama Papers. Honest, M’Lud. That house in the picture above is one that I pass on my amble to work daily. I want that garden moved to London in its entirety, stat. Having had a crazy time just before I left London, this is a bit of a rest cure quite frankly. In that spirit, I’m posting images of things that are making me smile at the moment. Just to be extra-contrary, I’ve decided to include some posters about the joy of wearing black just as spring is approaching.
Excellent things about Guernsey so far:
That’s Guernsey for you. A highly recommended antidote to the District line and the stress of London life. Book you trip, NOW, as Carol’s minister pal would say.
Enigma in a riddle…..
My nephew and I have an ongoing debate where I insist that time as perceived by humans is an artificial construct (which it is!), and he insists it’s not. Anyway, I was watching Agents of Shield (season 3, episode 15) and it had the simplest explanation of how you cannot go back in time to change the future that I have ever seen. Check it out.
It made me think about the space-time continuum which I find equally fascinating and headache-inducing. However, I had a thought….. Although I have the tendency to mock M-theory and its 11 dimensions (mainly to provoke the physicists I know), looking at the manifold models theorized by physicists reminded me of how strings of amino acids get folded to become proteins. This folding being on the sub-atomic level in the cosmos, we may not have the equipment to confirm the structures yet. But, would that account for the extra mass that is attributed to dark matter? The particles we should be searching for may not be as small as we believe so we are looking in the wrong plane, so to speak….
It also reminds me of nervous transmission – the way nerve impulses travel along axons and then from dendrite to dendrite (or directly if axons are not present), and how the message is transmitted via synapses, all without physical contact between the parts. Maybe that’s how quantum mechanics works, and how quantum entanglement (or spooky action at a distance) is possible. The particles aren’t crossing big distances in a linear fashion, they’re jumping from fold to fold. Ultimately, it suggests that space may indeed be foldable and we can travel at warp speeds i.e faster than light. Nirvana for all Trekkies and nerds everywhere. What does this have to do with skincare products? Nothing whatsoever, but it’s my blog so I’m going to indulge myself and give any scientists reading this a good laugh at any rate 🙂 Besides, it’s 1a.m and I’ll keep thinking about this wretched stuff if I don’t write it down.
Today’s pictures are of pretty cool stuff that I like:
Hope you have a day full of wonder and magic.