Thursday, 11 June 2009

Vintage finds today.



On happiness scale from 1 to 10 this counts as 7, I don't know if it's real, I don't know if it's fake, but reading Chanel that many times over in one place makes me smile and the shoes are just my own private Summer panto - if there were such a thing.
Posted by westendmum at 21:43
Labels: ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Other nonsense

  • Diet Trial PART 2
    My tests came back with intolerances to yeast and egg white, so I am to avoid both for 4 weeks starting from the 15th June. The dietian said...
  • My London cake tins
    Caught sight of these and thought they were rather good.... My London set of cake tins, Angel Cake and Victoria sponge - £26.99 the pair. Av...
  • Gin is IT! - Penhaligon's Juniper Sling
    image: Juniper Sling - eau de toilette - Penhaligons © Next time I feel like reaching for the gin perhaps I might try a spritz of thi...
  • Sunday Poem - I Saw A Jolly Hunter by Charles Causley
    I Saw A Jolly Hunter I saw a jolly hunter  With a jolly gun  Walking in the country  In the jolly sun.  In the jolly meadow  Sat a jolly ...
  • Advent Calendars 2024
    The past few Christmases I’ve made TheGR a beer advent.  A different beer for each day, wrapped and labelled.  But this year, I'm shoppi...
  • Broken Collarbone or Clavicle in child
    I’m sad, and I’ve broken Erbie. I have been rushing around like idiot, trying to fit in one last this and one last that before leavi...
  • Mean reds
    People around me are having a terrible time, ranging from bad backs, divorce, murder, threatening neighbours, losing family homes to alcohol...

Quote of the day

‘They tuck you up your mum and dad...’
Anon - after Larkin

“Philately will get you everywhere”
WEM

“It’s not the despair, I can handle the despair. 
It’s the hope I can’t deal with”
Clockwise

“Each new friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
Anais Nin

‘Come on Dover move your bloomin’ arse’.
Eliza Doolittle