Time On My Hands

The lazy, hazy days of summer…..or monsoon season as we like to call it in England. I’ve been on holiday for the last week and dutifully spent the beginning of the week working myself into a frenzy, sorting out Alara stuff. I have spent the second part of the week loafing around, watching ‘Jessica Jones‘ and ‘Black-ish‘ (both highly recommended. Not too sure about Iron Fist, but Marvel is Marvel……) I did also do some everyday stuff like getting my hair done (essential) and cleaning the house (not so much, yawn. I am the unhappy combination of a lazy slob who hates disorder. This conundrum is easily solved by having hot and cold running staff which I do not have. Can I just point out that the world is less than idyllic?) Anyhoo, the news is either alarming, witness the craziness happening in Virginia, or ridiculous, witness Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un. Mind you, the more they posture, the safer I feel. It’s the lunatics that don’t bother with making idiotic threats that really worry me.

Design season is imminent, and I am showcasing some of the new designers who will be exhibiting at 100% Design this year: The Bombe clock by Bad Dog Designs, The Orla sofa by Bethany Luscombe, AeroBench by Essence of Strength and Fabrics by Mairi Helena. Pretty good stuff, I think you’ll agree. I leave you with one of my favourite Roald Dahl poems. If you’ve never read his ‘Revolting Rhymes’, you have a treat in store. Have a good one.

 

The Three Little Pigs

By Roald Dahl

The animal I really dig,
Above all others is the pig.
Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever,
Pigs are courteous. However,
Now and then, to break this rule,
One meets a pig who is a fool.
What, for example, would you say,
If strolling through the woods one day,
Right there in front of you you saw
A pig who’d built his house of STRAW?
The Wolf who saw it licked his lips,
And said, ‘That pig has had his chips.’
‘Little pig, little pig, let me come in!’
‘No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!’
‘Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!’

The little pig began to pray,
But Wolfie blew his house away.
He shouted, ‘Bacon, pork and ham!
Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!’
And though he ate the pig quite fast,
He carefully kept the tail till last.
Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.
Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted
Another little house for pigs,
And this one had been built of TWIGS!

‘Little pig, little pig, let me come in!’
‘No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!’
‘Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!’

The Wolf said, ‘Okay, here we go!’
He then began to blow and blow.
The little pig began to squeal.
He cried, ‘Oh Wolf, you’ve had one meal!
Why can’t we talk and make a deal?
The Wolf replied, ‘Not on your nelly!’
And soon the pig was in his belly.

‘Two juicy little pigs!’ Wolf cried,
‘But still I’m not quite satisfied!
I know how full my tummy’s bulging,
But oh, how I adore indulging.’
So creeping quietly as a mouse,
The Wolf approached another house,
A house which also had inside
A little piggy trying to hide.
‘You’ll not get me!’ the Piggy cried.
‘I’ll blow you down!’ the Wolf replied.
‘You’ll need,’ Pig said, ‘a lot of puff,
And I don’t think you’ve got enough.’
Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.
The house stayed up as good as new.
‘If I can’t blow it down,’ Wolf said,
I’ll have to blow it up instead.
I’ll come back in the dead of night
And blow it up with dynamite!’
Pig cried, ‘You brute! I might have known!’
Then, picking up the telephone,
He dialed as quickly as he could
The number of red Riding Hood.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Who’s speaking? Who?
Oh, hello, Piggy, how d’you do?’
Pig cried, ‘I need your help, Miss Hood!
Oh help me, please! D’you think you could?’
‘I’ll try of course,’ Miss Hood replied.
‘What’s on your mind…?’ ‘A Wolf!’ Pig cried.
‘I know you’ve dealt with wolves before,
And now I’ve got one at my door!’

‘My darling Pig,’ she said, ‘my sweet,
That’s something really up my street.
I’ve just begun to wash my hair.
But when it’s dry, I’ll be right there.’

A short while later, through the wood,
Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.
The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze,
And yellowish, like mayonnaise.
His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,
And spit was dripping from his jaw.
Once more the maiden’s eyelid flickers.
She draws the pistol from her knickers.
Once more she hits the vital spot,
And kills him with a single shot.
Pig, peeping through the window, stood
And yelled, ‘Well done, Miss Riding Hood!’

Ah, Piglet, you must never trust
Young ladies from the upper crust.
For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,
Not only has two wolfskin coats,
But when she goes from place to place,
She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELING CASE.

 

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Rambling Rose

I went for a walk along along the canal this week. I haven’t been down there since March, having boycotted the area as the bleakness of the late winter landscape- straggly bushes, shivering birds, sluggish grey water, depressing grey sky- was enough to finally tip me over the edge. Seasonal Affective Disorder? You have no idea. Well, what a contrast. Those straggly bushes are now in glorious flower, the sunlight is shimmering on the water, there are flutterbys everywhere, and the blackberries are ripening on the bramble bushes. Heaven is picking fresh blackberries as you amble to nowhere in particular; they are still slightly under-ripe which I like anyway. I enjoy eating fruit that is not quite ripe, God only knows why. It started with the tartness of not-quite-ripe Cashew fruits and Almonds when I was a kid. Yep, I can honestly say I’ve always been weird, to the surprise of absolutely no one anywhere. And no, I’ve never had a resulting stomach ache. Go figure.

Only two serpents in the garden. One dopey cyclist with a ghetto blaster strapped to his back. His choice of music? ‘Cotton Eyed Joe’ Words fail me but I guess his lifestyle choices are punishment enough. Let’s draw a veil over that. Then there was the rather chunky woman filling a carrier bag with blackberries. Now, hedgerowing is not an issue if you are walking through woodland in a rural area. People in those areas usually control their greed and know to leave some for others, and there is plenty to go round. Filling a bag with blackberries in an urban area is just plain selfish. By all means, pop a few in your mouth but don’t pick enough to make several pies….. and yes, I’m no sylph either but I most definitely did not eat all the pies. Should I have mentioned that she was standing in a clump of nettle plants? A better Christian would have……… 🙂 Speaking of which, did you know that God never told Eve not to eat the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden? Eve had not yet been created yet when the edict was handed down, so it’s all Adam’s fault. This occured to me as I was waking up this morning and I checked it. This is why I should never be allowed any free time. What with male/female relations coming along so well, I thought I should toss that little cluster bomb in the mix 🙂

My fave cartoon of the week? Easy peasy, it’s the one by Pugh addressing Roman Abramovich’s imminent divorce. It must be utterly surreal for those concerned, reading all the stuff in the papers. The press list all their possessions as though they amount to a panacea for a broken heart. Too bizzarre. Ladies, form an orderly queue, although I personally draw the line at cycling as a hobby. Sometimes it’s just easier to work for a living! Dasvidaniya as we now say at AlaraApothecary. Have a terrific week.

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Ha! You’ll Never Find Me…..

Favourite pic of the week? No contest; it’s this genius one of the giraffe who seems to think he is cunningly concealed behind the tree. It makes me smile every time I look at it. In my anthropomorphic imagination, this is a young giraffe and I can just see its mother covering her eyes and going, “Seriously, NO!” Excellent pic.

Favourite ridiculous thing I read about (if you exclude ALL political commentary 🙂 ) is the new Miele range cooker which has just been launched. See the picture below. This cooker is £17,000. No, that is not a typo. What the helling hell? Even if I had 300 million quid, I would never spend that much money on a cooker. You can buy an entire top-notch kitchen for that kind of money, and still be able to afford a takeaway. Pure craziness in a world where some people are literally starving. And don’t even get me started on Sub-Zero fridges. My fave bit was the dopey blurb in the magazine I was reading which assured us that we could produce restaurant-quality meals on the wonder-machine. Er, no. The ability to produce restaurant-quality food is a God-given talent/skill. If you have it, you could cook over a fire made from twigs and the food would be great. If you don’t, a 17K hunk of metal would make no difference whatsoever. When I become extremely rich (which is guaranteed, thank you very much!), if I ever make this type of insane purchase, please feel free to slap me around a few times until I come to my senses. Addendum: insane purchases cannot by definition include cars, unless it’s a rubbish electric car in which case feel free to have me sectioned. That’s obvious to anyone who isn’t clueless 🙂

Back in the real world, I would like to introduce you to the work of the talented Stewart Hearn. I love glass; its manufacture always seems magical to me. Just a bit of silicon that can be altered to make rainbows. Terrific. Y’all have a lovely week. Pip pip.

 

 

 

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A Riotous Assembly

This week has been so rich in comedy, I hardly know where to begin. My favourite story was about the couple in the West Country (of course 🙂 ) who decided to practice the famous Dirty Dancing lift in anticipation of their wedding showpiece dance next year. Yes, this excellent idea sprouted after some time in the pub. Now, Andy and Sharon Price seem to be terrific funsters but lithe they are not. So after a few bevvies, out they went to practise the dance shown below:

What could go wrong, I hear you ask? Suffice to say that they crashed into one another with one of the falling down unconscious. The other one ran to their aid, crashed over, and both of them ended up concussed in A & E. This is a picture of them pre-ambulance:

Comedy gold, I’m sure you’ll agree. My only regret is that I don’t know them so I won’t be at the wedding. I suspect it will be an absolute blast.

Next up was the Czech entrepeneur (female) who came up with a beer specially brewed for ‘the ladies’ which she has cunningly packaged in pearlised bottles and sold in pink boxes. No, not in an ironic post-feminist way. Aurosa beer was created by Martina Smirova and it has been met with the expected sense of humour-bypass by the Twitterati. Me, I think she’s a publicity genius. She’s got tons of coverage for an essentially unknown product. Martina, I salute you while drinking your beer from a Babycham glass with my pinky finger sticking out in a dainty, ladylike manner. I think we should all support Martina as she obviously has a very droll sense of humour. Coming soon to a store near you, pink glitter-trimmed saws, power drills and gravimetric arrays in case you want to build your own girl-empowered Space Station.

Last but by no means the least, I bring you the supersmart scientists at the University of Utah. In a stunning breakthrough, they have discovered that fake boobs can save your life. After running extensive tests, they have found that breast implants can slow bullet speeds down by up to 20% thereby reducing possibly-fatal damage. They can also protect you in the event of a stabbing or in an accident, presumably working as the equivalent of your very own portable air bags. They used implants that would correspond to a D-cup. You have questions you say? Yes, the lead researcher was indeed a man. No, as far as I am aware it will not be mandatory for all soldiers and law enforcement personnel to have a boob job. Yes, I am as sorry as you are to hear that; I was rather looking forward to the US Army and the Russian Army being fitted with DD-cups, especially the men. Putin would look even more spectacular during one of his barechested horseriding escapades if he had a set of fake boobs attached. I truly believe this is an idea which has been long overdue in germination. Now, who’s with me?…………..

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An Eternal Flame

Today’s post images are of random things that I like at this particular moment. Favourite story of the week, Easy Peasy. I was in the newsagents on Sunday, looking at all the headlines like the news junkie I am. One of the newspapers had its headline banner as ‘The Harry & Meghan story’. So far, so tabloid-fodder. What made me laugh out loud was the announcement that there was a 24-page souvenir magazine inside where you could look at lovely pictures of the lovely couple. Hilarious enough, but they also said ‘Collect it and keep it forever!’ 🙂 Now, I watch Suits and I’m a big Rachel Zane fan, and who doesn’t love Harry? But, seriously? I should collect a magazine full of inane blurb about a couple I don’t know and will never meet, who don’t care if I live or die? How sad would my life have to be before I did that? Hell, I wouldn’t even keep that stuff if it was about me! I tell you, Slebs must live totally surreal lives. Anyway, I bought two copies, so afraid was I that I might misplace one and not be able to keep this souvenir until the end of time. Just kidding.

It was a really nice weekend; the sun was out, the birds were twittering and the guys and gals in Hammersmith were making fiercely bold fashion choices. Best bit, in the evening I was putting away some old stuff and came across a wonderful letter written to me by someone called Audrey when I was working in Grays in Essex. Now , that would have been about 10 years ago. In it, she thanked me for the lovely present and said it was so amazing, she was embarrassed to accept it but would do so in the spirit in which it was given, and how kind I’d been to her. The kicker; not only do I not remember the act of largesse that would prompt such a letter, I don’t even remember who Audrey is. That letter was better than a 24-page glossy magazine, it cheered me up no end. Crazy misanthrope I may be, but at least 10 years ago I did one thing right. Dear readers, go out this week and do the same. There is nothing better than receiving a nice, handwritten letter in this digital age. AlaraApothecary: we pay it forward. Have a lovely week. Toodle Pip.

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