My mum had a knack for friendship. A gift, really. I didn't inherit her easy ability to make and keep friends, alas, but I was a beneficiary of it for thirty years so I can't complain.
If, like me, you have failed to prepare for Valentine's Day in any way and feel kind of guilty about it, but not guilty enough to leave the house, this is the DIY for you. Make your loved one laugh/cry/recoil in horror with your very own Valentine's version of Cards Against Humanity.
I've had this blog for FOUR YEARS, you guys. Four. Years. Note how I didn't say "I've been blogging for four years," because, well, I haven't exactly been churning out the posts of late, but still. If my dwindling annual post count is anything to go by, you can expect at least eight posts this year! Might even get up into double figures! Anything could happen!
Last year's gift guide was a big hit, mainly among the various relatives who are obliged to buy me presents, so in response to popular (okay, paternal) demand, here are some bits and bobs that I wouldn't mind finding under the tree this year.
The final selection gives you an insight into my ideal activities for the next few weeks: sitting on the couch, wearing cosy slippers (1), luxuriating in the scent of a fancy Christmassy candle (4) and eating nibbles from a posh bowl (3) because everyone knows nibbles taste better from a posh bowl. If I'm not holding the baby for ten hours straight in an attempt to make her sleep (which is why I'll need some bronzer that makes me look less like a sleep-deprived corpse, 6), I'll be knitting myself yet another snood (5) or, more likely, writing the seven thousand thank you cards I have yet to write because I don't know where anyone lives, hence the need for an old school pen-and-paper address book (2).
I adore Inaluxe prints, but our walls are already covered in pictures and they definitely don't count as a "need." A calendar (3), on the other hand, is fairly essential for making sure baby massage doesn't clash with baby swimming (what has happened to my liiiiife?). As for the toothbrush, well. Every year, my mum popped a toothbrush in our stockings, and it seems like a wise tradition to maintain, for reasons of nostalgia as well as dental hygiene. An electric one (4) would be nice, but if we're talking needs rather than wants, manpower is good enough for me.
It's at this point that I realise how many of the things in this year's post were also in last year's post. Mittens (1), a tartan scarf (2), Tocca Cleopatra (3). Oh well, try try again, eh? This jumper (4) may be the answer to my sequins conundrum: comfy, inexpensive, sparkly but not too "Christmas." Oh and Zoë Ball wore it on It Takes Two, which makes it a million times more desirable. Jewellery that is outside the reach of tiny grasping fingers is also high on my list; bonus points for matching my blog's colour scheme (5).
I love getting new books that I haven't heard of and I'm not fussy, so these are very much just an indication of where my brain is at, namely how not to ruin your child (1), broody Scottish murder mysteries (2), ambitious craft plans that I will probably never finish (3), NEW BOOK BY RAINBOW ROWELL! (4), NEW BOOK BY AMY POEHLER!!!!! (5), poems about dogs (6). Yup, that about sums it up.
Enough said.
SEE ALSO:
...why I shouldn't buy Smidgen this jumper for her birthday.
I mean, LOOK AT IT. And you know Smidgen would wear it better than some terrier.
Whatever, Buster. You're no sighthound, and you know it.
There are, actually, a few good reasons why I shouldn't buy Smidgen this jumper for her birthday. 1) It's £46. 2) It's £46. 3) She will almost definitely roll around in the rotting carcass of a seagull within minutes of putting it on. Even if we're inside. She ALWAYS FINDS A WAY. 4) It's £46.
But hey, a girl can dream. And anyway, it had been far too long since we had a dog wearing clothes around here.
Did anyone see any good doggy Halloween costumes this year? Remember these guys? Never not funny.
SEE ALSO:
→ Smidgen's third birthday (in which she wears a hat)
→ Smidgen's fourth birthday plus a lot of random facts.
Images via Houndworthy
I hadn't expected early motherhood to involve so much spare time. Not free time; I am chained to that hungry little monkey almost constantly and don't expect to be liberated any time soon. Fortunately, I have a severe case of Stockholm syndrome when it comes to my tiny captor, so I don't mind. But I'm spending many, many hours cradling either a baby or a breast pump, neither of which provides me with much in the way of sparkling conversation. Inevitably, at some point I will find myself gazing blearily into the glow of a laptop or phone hoping to fill some of those quiet hours with companionship, consolation or distraction, depending on my mood.
Pretty much anything will do for distraction - working my way through fifteen seasons of ER, pinning pictures of trendy haircuts that I don't have time to get, rearranging the baby's adorable outfits for the tenth time - but companionship and consolation are more elusive, particularly when you only have one hand and can't move from the couch. So it's the internet to the rescue, once again.
If you have no interest in children, you will probably have no interest in what I'm about to share with you. If, like me, you just want to know that You're Not The Only One, you should bookmark these links immediately.
Please note: as if to prove my point, I am sitting on a couch cradling a baby and typing this with one hand. I don't have the time or the energy to write long, heartfelt pitches as in previous Blog Love posts. You'll just have to take my word for it. This is the good stuff.
TEA & ORANGES
I particularly loved this post about being a child of a high-flying career mother. There's a lot of discussion on this topic from a working mother's perspective, but not much from that of the child, I guess because today's children haven't developed the self-awareness or fine motor skills to write about it yet. Slackers.
FLORENCE FINDS
Rebecca's beautiful baby Bea was born just a few days after our bairn made her appearance, so Florence Finds is really resonating with me at the moment. From practical posts about slings and nursing bras (in both cases, it's all about the support) to thoughts on body image and the emotional impact of becoming a mother, Rebecca's opinions are always well thought out. I really enjoy hearing her perspective, even if - especially if - my own experience has been different. Her recommendations are also excellent, be they tense BBC dramas or maternity dresses.
In short, she's like a cool mum friend with great taste that you wish lived round the corner. In fact, she's exactly that.
ONE BAD MOTHER
Technically this is cheating, because One Bad Mother isn't a blog; it's a podcast. Sometime I don't have a free hand or even a free pair of eyes ("La la la, looking at my phone, reading a blog, la la la, this is so easy oh whoops the baby threw up all over herself and I didn't notice") so something that just requires my ears is perfect. Bonus points for being sarcastic, honest, informative and highly amusing.
One Bad Mother takes the form of a conversation between the two hosts, both mothers of small children, on topics including parenting triumphs and failures, the horrors of pregnancy, and why a glass of wine for mommy is not only justified but necessary. Fin can't listen to it on the grounds that they're "screechy," and he may have a point, but they've become my late-night sanity-maintaining feeding buddies so I'll forgive them anything.
So. There are three things that make me feel marginally less alone in this crazy endeavour called parenthood. Fellow caretakers of tiny humans, what else should I be reading/listening to/gobbling up at four in the morning?
SEE ALSO:
Images: 1. Mama Watters 2. Top with Cinnamon 3. Rebecca's Instagram 4. One Bad Mother
Goodbye, 2013. You were a real stinker of a year and I am very, very glad to be leaving you behind.
I have no resolutions at all, other than a vague plan to start eating breakfast, but nothing says happy new year like a jogging broccoli.
Happy New Year!
OTHER CHEERFUL THINGS:
Illustration by Alyssa Nassner
I have a post up on Lauren McGlynn's blog today as part of her advent fundraising project. If you've been missing my witty banter and exquisite taste (I know you have, don't try to pretend) then you should head over there for my round-up of lovely things that might make nice presents, all by independent Scottish artists and designers.
But enough about me - how are YOU? How's December treating you?
SEE ALSO:
Three Wise Men Russian Nesting Dolls by Hole In My Pocket, £185
Dear Santa,
This Christmas, I would like:
1. To get a good night's sleep.
2. To look and feel vaguely presentable, bearing in mind that my definition of "vaguely presentable" has relaxed considerably since the time you brought me those pink GHDs.
3. To accept that I am old and boring and that all I really want to do is curl up with a good book and a packet of biscuits.
To that end, I would not cry if any of the following made their way into my stocking.
1. Comfort and joy, £28 each, Fat Face
2. A hairdryer that isn't held together with parcel tape would be a nice change. I don't have a link because electrical items, zzzzz.
3. Silk sleep mask. Hello, my name is Elizabeth Taylor. £24.50, Silk Sleep
4. I wore Tocca Giulietta (pretty, delicate) for my wedding, but I almost chose Cleopatra (sensual, glamorous) instead. Now that my big bottle has run out and they've started doing cheaper mini bottles, I see no reason why I can't have one of each. £15, Anthropologie
5. I see this scarf everywhere. It's basically a blanket for your neck. £19.99, Zara
6. I threw out my Uggs and now need some warm, comfortable shoes with a decent sole. Like these bad boys, £110, Aldo (hey, a girl can dream).
7. Festive sparkles, £18, Hannah Zakari
8. I loved Eleanor + Park and now want to read everything Rainbow Rowell has ever written. Also, grammar. Duh.
9. I think my signature look this winter is going to be lumberjack-meets-librarian. £89.95, Joules
10. Looking like a French girl: priceless
11. Glasses that I think would make me look like a French girl but would probably make me look like Harry Potter: £95, Swag & Stare
12. French girls wear stripy jumpers, right? £59.95, Joules
13. I had big plans to knit a pom pom hat by Christmas, but let's get real. £60, Hilary Grant
Well, that's the fun stuff out of the way. Now, Santa, since I'm clearly in the business of asking you for things that I know are outside your remit (a £60 woolly hat? A £90 cardigan? Come on. And who buys someone glasses for Christmas?), I have a final request.
What I really want for Christmas is, quite simply, Christmas. Specifically, I want to spend another Christmas with my mum.
I know Christmas is a month away, and a month feels very long right now, but my family is so full of strength and guts and love and if we've learned anything from cheesy Christmas films, it's that love can work miracles. And also that Bruce Willis looks good in a vest.
I know Christmas is a month away, and a month feels very long right now, but my family is so full of strength and guts and love and if we've learned anything from cheesy Christmas films, it's that love can work miracles. And also that Bruce Willis looks good in a vest.
I know it's a tough ask, Santa, but please. See what you can do.
Failing that, I'll take the hairdryer.
Lots of love,
Kirsty x
P.S. I won't forget to leave your drink by the fireplace. A dry white wine, always and forever.
Top image: Anthropologie. French girl in glasses (who is not actually French): Eat Sleep Wear.
Gorgeous photography! Great design! DOGS WEARING CLOTHES!
It's like they invented it just for me.
Meet Houndworthy, for all your quality hipster dog goods. Need an on-trend geometric collar and matching lead? Of course you do. Need a distressed canvas vintage French postal dog bed? Mais oui. Need a white 100% cotton doggie bandana decorated with painted fish flies? Um, yes, you do. IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION?
I'm not joking with this. I know it can be hard to tell.
Smidgen, if you weren't getting a disgusting chunk of meat for your Christmas, and I had a spare several hundred pounds, you would be getting everything that Houndworthy has to offer. I declare it officially worthy of my hound.
SEE ALSO:
→ A dog wearing antlers looking happy→ Dogs dressed as Santa looking miserable
→ Smidgen totally needs a new jacket. I mean, she only has two.
All images via Houndworthy. Not a sponsored post, I just like to imagine I have the kind of life where I can spend all my money making Smidgen look even cooler than she already does.
It's exactly one month until Christmas and I'm trying to resist the temptation to marvel at the passage of time. I usually prefer to wait until December before I really go completely bonkers, but there's no harm in laying the groundwork a bit early. The 25th of November is a perfectly respectable date to start planning ahead for some festive cheer.
When it comes to heralding the coming of Christmas, I'm a traditionalist. Don't even talk to me about Starbucks red cups. It's a miracle of modern marketing that drinking an overpriced coffee from a disposable cup sold by a tax-avoiding mega-corporation has somehow come to embody the season for a worryingly large segment of the population.
(Top tip: if you want a wintery hot drink that actually tastes nice, forget the pumpkin spice crap and try the Scots pine and smoked salt hot chocolate that Urban Angel are serving up at the St Andrew Square Scottish market, or have a hot toddy from the Royal Dick instead. Delicioso.)
If it takes more than a Christmas-themed beverage to get you in the mood, here are three things you can plan right now that will have you feeling more festive than a dog in a Santa hat come December, according to this fool-proof formula: doing something fun + helping other people = warm fuzzy Christmas glow.
1. Buy a tree + help the homeless
We've been buying our Christmas tree from Caring Christmas Trees for years and would never buy it from anywhere else. The quality is lovely, you can pick it up at a time that suits you, and the profits go to a wonderful cause.The trees aren't cheap, but guess what? CHRISTMAS TREES ARE EXPENSIVE. One year, we thought it would be cheaper to buy our tree from one of the slightly dodgy-looking roadside sellers, which sold trees by the foot. It ended up costing exactly the same, the quality was rubbish, and the money went straight into someone's pocket instead of going towards helping Edinburgh's homeless. Where's the Christmas cheer in that?
If you live in Aberdeen, Dumfries, Dundee, Perth, Edinburgh, East Lothian, Fife, Glasgow or South East London, I can't recommend Caring Christmas Trees enough. We've volunteered as tree distributors with them for several years, so here's a little inside info: most of the trees are a good 6-10 inches taller than they say they will be. If you're torn between two sizes, go for the smaller one. You'll get extra height for your buck (except with the 4 foot trees, but what they lack in height they make up for in girth, being practically spherical). You have to order in advance, so buy your tree now.
2. Learn a new skill + support independent businesses
Two of my favourite florists are running festive floral workshops this year and I couldn't be more excited, not least because all of the classes also involve cake.
For the Glaswegians, the very talented and lovely Sophie of I Heart Flowers is running a Christmas wreath workshop THIS THURSDAY at the Hidden Lane Tearoom (which sounds like it should be in a Harry Potter novel, but is in fact on Argyle Street). For more information and to book your spot, click here (and to see more of Sophie's amazing skills, check out this shoot that we did together).
Those of you on the East coast can join in the fun with Pyrus, run by creative geniuses Fiona and Natalya. They have classes on various dates in December, held in gorgeous venues in Edinburgh and East Lothian, where you can learn to make wreaths and garlands and even go out and pick your own foliage. Full details and booking information here.
3. Sing carols + help people with breast cancer
I love carols. Love love love them. The one sad thing about getting married in July was that we couldn't have 'Hark! The Herald Angels Sing' and 'O Come All Ye Faithful' as our wedding hymns. Apparently it's a bit weird to want Christmas carols at your summer wedding. Whatevs.To compensate for this tragedy I try to sing carols at every possible opportunity, so obviously I had to buy tickets for Carols by Candlelight at St John's Cathedral in support of Breast Cancer Care. If there's one thing I love nearly as much as carols, it's candles, and if there's one thing I love more than either of those things, it's supporting people affected by breast cancer. Done deal.
Londoners, fret not - there's a carol concert for you, too. Breast Cancer Care are also holding a carol concert at St Paul's Cathedral, and they've only gone and got Simon bloody Callow to do a reading. I'm totally not jealous, though. Not even a little bit.
So, there you go. Three easy ways to get into the Christmas spirit. I'm interested, what is it that triggers that festive feeling for you? The John Lewis Christmas advert? Your first glass of mulled wine? The compulsory appearance of sparkly dresses in every shop window? Please don't say the red cups.
SEE ALSO:
→ Thoughts on married Christmas (by me for A Practical Wedding)
Image: Ling Design charity Christmas cards, £2.99 for 6 from John Lewis (bonus points if you noticed the Christmas tree, the wreath, the carol singers and the dog in a Santa hat).
After audience testing revealed an overwhelmingly negative response to 2013's working title, 2013: Worst Year Ever, I've decided to rename it 2013: The Year of Netflix. Because when I haven't been whining about how it's been the worst year ever, I've been watching a scandalous amount of television to make my mind off how it's been the worst year ever. As you can see, it's been working really well.
After nearly a year of practising this questionable avoidance technique, I now consider myself something of an expert in consuming mindless, repetitive hours of American TV. If you'd like to become an expert too, here's how.
1. Get hooked up
Unless you have one of those fancy TVs with Netflix built in, you'll be watching it through your computer. Watching TV on the computer is all very well if you're having a particularly bad day and just want to watch the entire second series of Dawson's Creek from the comfort of your own bed (no judgement), but for everyday viewing, I recommend getting a cable that hooks your laptop up to your TV. They're cheap, easy to set up, and make it so much easier to poke fun at Dawson's terrible hair.
2. Become an American
Or, rather, let Netflix think you've become an American. If you're in the UK, you need to sign up for a UK Netflix account (it's £5.99 a month). The trouble is, UK Netflix is fairly new and, frankly, it's a bit crap. American Netflix, on the other hand, has a huge bank of amazing programmes and films just begging to be watched. If only there was a way to access it... oh, hang on, there is.
You'll need Google Chrome for this, but I promise it will change your life. Or, at least, your viewing habits. Install the Hola Better Internet Chrome extension and you can cross the Atlantic at the click of a mouse. Thanks to the magical power of the internet, it lets Netflix think you're watching from America, giving you direct access to all the unimaginable wonders our American cousins take for granted. The best part is you can turn it back off again should you want to access UK-only content (some shows only seem to be available over here, like The Fall or, weirdly, the Hobbit).
3. Watch all the things
Right, down to the nitty-gritty. Here are my top Netflix picks, which you should all watch immediately so we can talk about them:
Parks and Recreation: Endearing, characterful, so funny it will make you snort.
House of Cards: Worth watching for Claire Underwood's hair alone.
Mad Men: Essential viewing if, like me, you missed it first time round. Slick, stylish, smouldering.
West Wing: Duh. We have big plans to watch all the Christmas episodes in one giant festive slob-fest. I am excited.
Sherlock: With the new series imminent, it's time to remind yourself of the brilliance of Benedict Cumberbatch. (Or Bernard Cumberbosh, as he is affectionately known in our house after Fin couldn't remember his name. Generate your own alternative here.)
So there you have it! Now you too can give up that pesky social life and spend all your time watching television series several years after they were made. Hurrah!
I'm also dangerously close to running out of episodes to watch, so all recommendations for new shows will be warmly welcomed in the comments.
SEE ALSO:
Images of Emily Henderson's living room, a.k.a. my dream Netflix-watching environment.
If you don't know who Amy Poehler is, that means you haven't watched Parks and Recreation, and that means we can't be friends any more.
Nahhh, I'm kidding. It just means I'm going to repeatedly pester you about how amazing Parks and Rec is until you're forced to watch it and admit it's the best show ever. But I'm not going to do that today. (I'm going to do it on Thursday! Lucky you.)
Today, I would like to draw your attention to one of the most positive, encouraging, maybe-society's-not-totally-fucked-after-all projects I've come across in a long time: Amy Poehler's Smart Girls.
As a comedian, actress, writer, BFF of Tina Fey and all-round fabulous person, Amy Poehler has accumulated a fair bit of wisdom in her life. Now she's making it her mission to share that wisdom in a way that's funny, accessible and empowering for young women, through the Smart Girls website and YouTube channel.
The idea behind Smart Girls is to let girls know that it's ok to be clever or funny or shy or outdoorsy or geeky or whatever you want to be, as opposed to what other people - especially boys - want you to be. It's a little bit like the It Gets Better project, but for teenage girls.
Well, *technically* it's for teenage girls, but honestly? I sort of secretly love it too. It speaks to my inner 16-year-old in the same way as really good young adult fiction (Eleanor + Park, I'm looking at you) or an unexpected whiff of Tommy aftershave.
There's a lot of content on the site, so the best thing is for you to go and have a poke around yourself, but I'd like to put in a special word for Ask Amy, Poehler's video agony aunt segments. She's just like a cool big sister and your favourite teacher rolled into one. The best thing about her answers is her open acknowledgement that there are no right answers - we're all different, and that's what makes us all so special.
Or, as she puts it, "Why listen to what I have to say? I'm obviously a crazy person."
Yes, Amy, you are. Crazy AWESOME.
SEE ALSO:
Image of Amy Poehler by Chad Griffith for The Village Voice, 22 April 2008
Am I the only one who finds budgeting incredibly soothing?
*Deafening silence*
Fine. But you should know that this budgeting app is the best thing ever, and if you had it, you'd find it soothing too. And if you don't think budgeting could possibly be relaxing, try paying off your credit card (or, erm, one of them) thanks to said budgeting app. Now THAT is relaxing.
If you'll excuse me, I have some accounts to reconcile and I'm genuinely excited about it.
I think I may have a problem.
SEE ALSO:
Vintage calculator prints by Justin Skeesuck. Use this link to sign up for YNAB and get $6 off. Don't say I'm not good to you.
Do you ever get sick of reading blogs that are nothing but round-ups and mood boards and wish lists and sponsored posts and no actual content whatsoever?
Yeah. Me too.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good-looking blog as much as the next girl (and I'm no stranger to a mood board), but sometimes what I really want is a well-written insight into someone's life. I want a sense of what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what keeps them awake at night. I want to know who they are, and I want who they are to be witty and bright and quirky. I want them to tell me their story.
Essentially, I want to read the kind of thing I try to write here, but way better.
That kind of blog seems to have dropped out of fashion of late, in favour of the fluffy sponsored crap referred to above (must capitalism ruin everything?), but fortunately I know where to find the good stuff. Turns out they were all hiding in America.
Another Damn Life
I have waited far too long to tell you about Lyn and her blog, Another Damn Life. Far, far, far too long.
Actually, that's not true. I did tell you about her, way back in 2011 when she was kind enough to write a guest post for me while I was on holiday. But those of you who weren't reading this blog back then (there must be at least four of you) haven't had a proper introduction, so it's high time I remedied this tragic state of affairs.
The problem is, I always find these Blog Love posts hard to write. There are two reasons. The first is that I'm not very good at expressing genuine, unironic enthusiasm, even when it's something I really, really like, like Lyn's blog. I'd make a terrible copywriter. The second reason is that I always have to have a quick look at whichever blog I'm trying to write enthusiastically about - for research purposes, you understand - and inevitably end up being sucked into reading it. Suddenly, an entire evening has zipped past and I've written precisely nothing. Which is exactly what has just happened while I was trying to write this. Oops.
So. In a nutshell, Another Damn Life is brilliant. Lyn is funny and awkward and interesting and when she came to Edinburgh, Smidgen let Lyn stroke her, which means she is one of the best people.
This post and this one, about travelling around southern Arizona on her own for a couple of days, are a good place to start, though frankly there is no bad place. You should read this blog. I think you'd like it.
Actually, that's not true. I did tell you about her, way back in 2011 when she was kind enough to write a guest post for me while I was on holiday. But those of you who weren't reading this blog back then (there must be at least four of you) haven't had a proper introduction, so it's high time I remedied this tragic state of affairs.
The problem is, I always find these Blog Love posts hard to write. There are two reasons. The first is that I'm not very good at expressing genuine, unironic enthusiasm, even when it's something I really, really like, like Lyn's blog. I'd make a terrible copywriter. The second reason is that I always have to have a quick look at whichever blog I'm trying to write enthusiastically about - for research purposes, you understand - and inevitably end up being sucked into reading it. Suddenly, an entire evening has zipped past and I've written precisely nothing. Which is exactly what has just happened while I was trying to write this. Oops.
So. In a nutshell, Another Damn Life is brilliant. Lyn is funny and awkward and interesting and when she came to Edinburgh, Smidgen let Lyn stroke her, which means she is one of the best people.
This post and this one, about travelling around southern Arizona on her own for a couple of days, are a good place to start, though frankly there is no bad place. You should read this blog. I think you'd like it.
How to Live in Ohio on Purpose
I followed Evie on Twitter for a long time before I realised she had a blog. I'm on record as saying that if the only two people I followed on Twitter were Lyn and Evie (who follow each other and often engage in hilarious back-and-forth), I would probably enjoy Twitter about a million percent more. Evie's tweets delight me: an addictive mix of sharp observations, awkward confessions and bone-dry humour that gets me in all the right places.
I hoped her blog might be like a long-form version of her tweets. It is not. It's so much better than that.
How to Live in Ohio on Purpose is an excellent name for a blog and just an excellent blog all round. It's not really about anything, as such, but Evie draws you into her world so skilfully that you don't even notice. It's just... lovely. Like this post, about running (except it's not really about running, it's about life, but Evie is so sneaky that you don't even notice until the end and then you're like ohhhh. Also it's a little bit about pizza, which is one of my favourite topics).
Evie also shares my make-them-laugh-while-providing-no-practical-advice-whatsoever approach to How To posts, which makes me like her even more. Practical schmactical.
Update: Evie has moved her blog to a new location - you can find her at Oh Evie. She also sends out a weekly newsletter which you can (and SHOULD) subscribe to here.
Nothing But Bonfires
Let's just get the obvious out of the way first, shall we? Holly who writes Nothing But Bonfires is a stone-cold fox. I mean, ridiculously good-looking. She also had the most stylish wedding ever to the love of her life, has a gorgeous home, a high-flying creative job and a glamorous international past, and recently gave birth to an adorable child. I should probably hate her.
But I don't, because (a) she writes about it all with such warmth and humour, and (b) she posts terrible pictures of her teenage self to make us all feel better.
I have now officially run out of steam with this post (told you I was bad at writing these) so I will just say that someone once told me that A Safe Mooring was like the British Nothing But Bonfires, which made very little sense since Holly is in fact British herself, but nevertheless it made me want to kiss that person on the mouth.
There you have it, a few of my favourite blogs. Care to share yours?
MORE BLOGS I LOVE:
Images: 1. Erin Hearts Court 2. Lauren McGlynn 3. From Evie's blog 4. Sean Slinsky
Illustrator Emily McDowell describes her brand as insightful, relatable and colourful. Tick, tick, tick. While "motivational" prints generally motivate me to throw up, these ones are so cheerful, encouraging and just true that I can't help loving them.
I'd happily own anything in her shop, but if I had to pick a favourite it would be these Tiny Encouragement Cards. So simple, so perfect, so easy to make somebody's day. And, since today is World Kindness Day, so very appropriate.
All prints available from Emily McDowell's Etsy shop. This isn't a sponsored post or anything, they just make me happy.
SEE ALSO:
If you know anything about Edinburgh, you know it has literature in its soul. What you may not know is that it also has literature in its masonry.
Here are three places in Edinburgh where words have leapt off the page and into the world, listed in ascending order of obscurity.
1. Canongate Wall
The charlatans and dreamers responsible for the creation of the Scottish Parliament got many things wrong, but some things they got so right. Edwin Morgan's poem is one; Canongate Wall is another. On a long, sloping, slightly awkward wall at the foot of the Royal Mile are engraved twenty-six quotations by Scottish writers on twenty-six varieties of Scottish stone. The chosen words range from the political to the spiritual and the sublime to the ridiculous. The following observation from Charles Rennie Mackintosh seems apt for me:
There is hope in honest error;
None in the icy perfections of the mere stylist.
Indeed.
There is hope in honest error;
None in the icy perfections of the mere stylist.
Indeed.
Canongate Wall, Scottish Parliament, Edinburgh, EH99 1SP. More details here.
2. Makars' Court
I stumbled into Makars' Court when taking a shortcut through one of Edinburgh's countless closes, no doubt running late for something or someone. (For non-Scots, a close is a narrow alley between old tenements - the "s" in close is pronounced like the "s" in toast. A makar is like a Scottish poet laureate and is not, in fact, a type of parrot.)
This particular close, I discovered, is home to the Writers' Museum, which contains so many words that they've started to spill out onto the pavement. Everywhere you step, there's a snippet from a Scottish author under your feet. All pavements should be like this.
Makars' Court, Lady Stair's Close, Edinburgh, EH1 2PA. More details here.
3. A random office building
An area near where I work was under construction for what felt like five years. Probably because it was five years. When the brand new office building finally opened, a gleaming behemoth of thinly-covered concrete and glass, it looked, well, pretty much exactly like every other office building in Edinburgh.
Until I happened to cut through the alley that separates the two halves of the development (another day, another shortcut, welcome to my life) and was drawn up short by the engraving running the length of the sandstone wall. It depicts a simple line drawing of the Edinburgh skyline, together with the most ego-stroking description of Edinburgh in history, courtesy of Alexander McCall Smith:
This is a city of shifting light, of changing skies, of sudden vistas. A city so beautiful it breaks the heart again and again.
Well, Sandy, I don't know about that, but we certainly know how to jazz up a piece of stone.
Atria, 144-148 Morrison Street, Edinburgh, EH3 8EE. No more details. Soz.
SEE ALSO:
Images: 1. By me 2. Via the Scottish Parliament 3. Chris Scott via Krakow City of Literature 4. Atria Edinburgh
It's been a while since my dogs wearing clothes tag saw any action. Obviously I had to remedy that immediately.
SEE ALSO:
Image: "Tommy Atkins" (appropriately enough) via the Library of Congress. See the whole bizarre series on Shooting Film
I love fireworks. Fireworks have the same magical power as roller coasters to instantly make me a child again. It's that feeling of giddy wonder, of marvelling at the ingenious lengths man will go to for no reason other than pleasure. Plus there's a delicious tingle of fear on top. British adults of my generation have seen enough episodes of 999 to know that fireworks are no f*ing joke.
In honour of Bonfire Night, here, for your viewing pleasure, is the best fireworks display in the history of the world. You might have seen it before, but you can never, ever see it too many times. It's what happens when you accidentally condense a 30-minute fireworks display into 50 deafening seconds.
Enjoy.
OTHER RIDICULOUS THINGS YOU MIGHT ENJOY:
→ The worst-trained dog in the world→ The best thing anyone's ever done with a carnation
→ A GUINEA PIG wearing a SOMBRERO
→ Another high-brow post
Image by the beautiful, talented and generally lovely Lucy Stendall.
