Lions & Tigers & Bears , Oh My…..

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Oh my giddy aunt, Ye gods and little fishes etc etc. What a perfectly ghastly week. I can’t believe I survived it. Yesterday for example, I had two meetings, one took 40 minutes, the other 20 minutes. Total travel time, 8½ hours. No, that was not a typo. Maximum distance of each journey from my house, 20 miles. Can you Adam and Eve it? Needless to say, the pollen count was like a gazillion. There’s a maximum dose for antihistamines, you say? Not when you’re about to scratch out your own eyeballs, there isn’t. So, thank you very much Southern Trains and SouthWest trains. You’ll be glad to know I eventually repented of the baroque curses I was directing at your management, the only one of which I care to share being that I hope all your teeth fall out. (It was a really bad day!). Any teeth that fell out between the thought and the repentance will just have to be put down to occupational hazard, sorry. Believe me, ALL your unfortunate passengers hate your living guts; you’re getting off lightly.

Anyhoo, in the midst of this insanity, I had the misfortune to read a puff article  about an actress who shall remain nameless. AlaraApothecary: trolling is not our way. Usually, I don’t read these mindless pieces of stupidity as they make me suicidal, but seeing there were no trains to jump in front of, and I was stuck in commuter-purgatory, I foolishly risked it. After the usual flummery about empowerment, accompanied by the obligatory bimbo-esque poses, (irony by-pass), she explained how she was helping the sisterhood by insisting the film company pay for a nanny ( or was it nannies?) while she was on set. If they wanted to get the best performance from her( no, she’s not playing Cordelia in King Lear), it was the least they could do. I feel empowered already. All of us should go to work on Monday and inform Tesco, Sainsburys, TfL or wherever we work that we need personal, full-time nannies at the company’s expense so we can do our very best work on the tills or on the shopfloor or in the clinic, or wherever. Don’t worry if you don’t actually have a child; ask for the nanny anyway, because you’re worth it 🙂 I can totally see why she can’t pay for her own childcare, what with earning only $20 million a movie. I may well start a crowdfund for her, please give generously.

Not to abuse the poor girl, I’m hoping for her sake that she was misquoted or something. It did make me wonder though; at what point after you become rich and famous do you lose all touch with reality? When do you start believing that because the paid yes-people around you constantly agree with you, you must be the Messiah the world ths been waiting for? I won’t mention Mr A Blair at this point because 150,000 deaths and counting is no matter for frivolity. There is a theory that the poorer the person’s childhood was, the more they are likely to become egomaniacal narcissists if they become successful. Nah, I know plenty of these idiots from 24-K  have-yacht backgrounds. I may even be one myself, uh oh. It reminds me of the poem:

See the happy moron,

He doesn’t give a damn.

I wish I were a moron.

My God! Perhaps I am!.

There was nothing else to do except come home, slump on the sofa, guzzle a pizza and hit the Jose Cuervo and look at many, many images of beautiful items by designers who fortunately don’t give interviews about empowerment. The only thing that could have made it even better would have been wearing that amazing dress while eating the pizza (size 34, UK; post-pizza). I leave you with the cheesy joke of the week:

Q: Why did the chicken go to the séance?

A: To get in touch with the other side.

Tap once for yes, twice for no 🙂 Have a fab, ouija-free weekend. Seriously, don’t mess with that stuff. AlaraApothecary: we do our best to minimise your need for exorcism.

 

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Machiavelli Mi Amore

BREXIT- the gift that just keeps on giving. First of all, the bankers, Treasury, and financial ‘experts’ took an Olympic-sized bath by betting on a catastrophic crash, wrongly as usual. You’d need a heart of stone not to laugh.

Then we had the people asking for a 2nd, 3rd, 87th referendum- in fact, a Neverendum:

“What do we want? ”

“A referendum! ”

“When do we want it? ”

“Until we get a result we like! ”

Beyond hilarious. Democracy is like the army; you shouldn’t have joined  if you can’t take a joke. Even better was the spectacle of MPs who were elected with fewer votes on a lower electorate turnout having the cheek to threaten to overturn the vote. On what mandate, S’il vous plaît? On your lower turnout? Clowns.

 

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Then we come to the BoJo & Gove show. It gladdens my heart to witness such stunning political léger de main. Boris hangs tight for a week, not declaring his candidacy and drawing all the fire of the ABB (anyone but Boris) crowd. Sarah Vine ‘accidentally’ sends a damning email to a member of the public. Just before the nominations close, Michael throws his hat into the ring, denouncing Boris in extremely vague terms which would not preclude adding Boris to a future cabinet. End result- ‘ruthless’ Michael becomes  capo di tutti capi in the Tory party, a cheerful Boris declines to run for PM although no one seems to wonder why he doesn’t stay to fight his corner,  and Theresa May is left spitting feathers having concentrated her fire on the wrong person for a full week. Beautifully done. Such a change from the usual ineptitude of political manouevering; it’s good to see some brains at work.

The Labour MPs are hellbent on getting rid of the only leader their core voters would vote for. He’ll go and the voters will all vote UKIP, and what a pretty kettle of fish that will be. I’m sure they’ll all find new jobs they’re eminently qualified for in 2020 such as …. erm…. Meanwhile in the real world, life goes on. There are no marauding gangs bearing pitchforks on the streets. Mind you, I was in Hertfordshire yesterday and methinks I saw a pitchfork or two. Here be dragons, as most Londoners would believe. I’m just joking. And so the ship of fools that is the House of Commons sails on, over the edge of the world.

In the real world, roads are still being swept, hair cut, pupils taught, the sick nursed. You know, the labour that actually creates the wealth of the country and keeps it functioning. I bring you two more images today- the Smeg fridges made in collaboration with Dolce & Gabbana. My big fat Gypsy fridge – words fail me. Children, avert your eyes.

 

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My personal fave? The pimped Roller covered in purple velvet. It’s so impractical and utterly without any redeeming feature that I immediately fell in love. It’s akin to a pair of galoshes made from rose petals. I hope the owner employs someone whose dedicated task it is to brush it with a clothes brush every day – for 40K a year. And no, this guy (it’s a guy, for sure!) is not what’s wrong with the world (well, not entirely 🙂 ) It’s the £50 billion (more like £80 billion by the end) that the idiot government is planning to spend on HS2 to shave half-an-hour off the journey to the North while devastating huge swathes of the countryside that will mean that when you need a triple by-pass or a cataract operation, there’ll be no money for it.

And so the world turns. Don’t be surprised if you find I’m running for leadership of both parties. AlaraApothecary for Empress of the World ! You know it makes sense.  Have a terrific weekend.

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Chicken Licken Strikes Again

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Well, we’re 2 for 2 at AlaraApothecary. We called the last election right despite the interesting opinion polls, and we called the result for Brexit right as well. AlaraApothecary– we’ve got a rose-scented finger on the national pulse. Obviously only a fool would alienate roughly half his/her potential clients by contributing to the craziness that has surrounded the referendum vote. Our mothers did not raise fools, no sirree. Did I mention that our products are made right here in Blighty………. 🙂

In the spirit of conciliation, we are showing not only snapshots of our favourite Twitter posts on the result, but also examples of some of the finest designs by our favourite European designers. Artistry knows no borders; talent will out. No one knows for sure what the future holds, we all just need to keep working away and meeting any challenges thrown up by the vote result. You may need a handy helmet just in case the sky falls though….Will we glad to see the back of the endless EU directives that make being an entrepeneur such a joy? Of course not, perish the thought. You might say we are being economical with the actualité; I couldn’t possibly comment. I leave you with my all-time fave concession speech by a politician- Dick Tuck in 1966 after losing his State Senate seat, “The people have spoken, the bastards.” Have a lovely weathermaggedon-free weekend. Pip pip.

(Photos: Peacock chair, Dror Bensherit; Cattelan Italia console table; Hot Kroon chandelier, Piet Boon; Mattia Bonetti cabinet)

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Well, did you evah?

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I am currently living in the ‘inbetween’ times; waiting for one thing to finish and another to begin. I’m not even remotely any good at patience– shades of a bird carooming around a cage, let me out, let me out. “In returning and rest shall you be saved, in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength”— waiting to exhale.

So, how to get through inbetween times? Polynomial equations. Truly, I cannot overstate the therapeutic properties of mathematics, particularly algebra and calculus. There is something about the order in maths that is a great pacifier. 1 + 1 always equals 2 ( except of course in theology where 1+1+1= 1; just thought I’d mess with your heads a bit…). In addition, I’m reading Kate Atkinson at the moment- she is an astonishingly pellucid writer. I actually find myself stopping mid-sentence to marvel at her talent. Extraordinary.

Anyway, I was thinking about progress and innovation, and it made me wonder about how elemental discoveries are made. Not scientific discoveries but the ones which seem to be as old as civilisation. Who came up with the idea of a plough, or an aqueduct? Who was brave/stupid/crazy enough to try the first caper, the first chilli, the first parachute (first patent by Slovakian Stefan Banic. He tested it by jumping off a tower block in DC. Excellent.  🙂 ) Who was the first to discover that slapping a piece of willow bark on your forehead would cure your headache, who built the first compacted mud houses, who discovered how to make brass and bronze and wrought iron? Human beings are amazing. I recently heard that Sicilian fishermen will mutter a few phrases in Greek when they start fishing in a bid to confuse the fish. They hope to lull the fish into believing they were the much less competent Greek fishermen (according to the unbiased Italians!), thereby ensuring a bumper catch. I am certain the Greeks have their own riposte to this terrible slur 🙂 I’m not advocating Leave or Remain but I would mention that there are very few jokes in Esperanto…..See you on the other side.

(Photos: Ife head bronzes: Kano, Nigeria: Ploughing with horses: Roman aqueduct at Segovia; Capers; Willow bark)

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In my heart, it’s spring

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Apologies to my dear readers for dropping out of sight for a while. I have been busy juggling invoices and chasing up payments. Apparently, the concept of paying people after they have supplied you with goods or services is one that is alien to some companies, as any SME owner can attest. I actually stopped chasing up one particular payment because I was feeling myself losing neurones by the minute; if a discussion begins to make you wonder if you are insane, take my advice- walk away. Don’t even get me started on the Kafkaesque discussion with my bank- that was another level of crazy altogether. The problem with all this is that of course it trickles down the chain so you then have to make your suppliers wait for payment. And on and on, down a Dantesque spiral into hell.

However, I was immensely cheered up as the whole farrago of nonsense reminded me of a favourite Sir Walter Alexander Raleigh (no, not that Walter Raleigh: The Glaswegian academic) poem:

I wish I loved the Human Race;
I wish I loved its silly face;
I wish I liked the way it walks;
I wish I liked the way it talks;
And when I’m introduced to one,
I wish I thought “What Jolly Fun!”

That’s a picture of good ole Walter up there, full of the joys of spring. Even that picture alone is enough to make me smile. He’s said to have composed the poem after a garden party. I know just how he felt – who hasn’t visited that particular circle of hell? (There goes my social life….) Even better still, my awesome niece Arix brought me back some Goldfish crackers (Cheddar flavour!) and peach liquorice from sunny Texas. What a gal- a good deed in a dark world, fo’ reals. In that spirit, I have included pictures of some eye-achingly beautiful interiors and things which ought to brighten your day. That Lindsey Adelman pendant is boss- am I right or am I right? Meanwhile, Illegitimi non carborundum, as the Romans most emphatically did not say. Have a terrific day.

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