Sunday, 4 October 2009

Oh Look!

Here's the shirt I was harping on about in Clothes Loathe. I haven’t worn it yet.


Posted by westendmum at 07:52
Labels: ,

2 comments:

Style At Every Age said...

Very nice, I really like it! Leggings, flat boots and long cardigan over it!

4 October 2009 at 09:22
Anonymous said...

Gorgeous!

4 October 2009 at 11:14

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...
  • Meme from BelgianWaffling - stuff.
    1. Are you a male or female: Fe-male. Very female, I was such a tomboy as a kid, I got mistaken for a boy all the time. On a beach once, a f...
  • Is there a right time to have a baby?
    I think it all depends on the person. Some girls can’t wait to start their own family, have already got grandchildren by the time they ar...
  • 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 ...
  • Sex text?
    Yes, the question mark is deliberate, I really had no idea what to write.  The grandfather has decamped to the seaside for the week and will...
  • Whistlejacket
    ‘ Whistlejacket by George Stubbs, in the National Gallery, London 2009 Took Erbie to see George Stubbs, Whistlejacket in the The National...
  • Sixty
    Erbie and I went out looking for elephants proper yesterday, having been given a heads up from an old school friend there were some in Coven...

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