A travel and style blog

A Primark Frock Vs Consumer Guilt

Confession, I was cream crackered the day these photos were taken. God bless a red lipstick and a Huji filter, cheating though that may be. Despite feeling like poop, I was also feeling pleased with myself for finding a bargain of a dress from Primark. I don't usually shop in Primark, not because I'm a conscious consumer, although I wish I was more of one, but because I don't usually find anything in Primark that's my kind of thing. Shame on me. 

I was then, pleased as punch to find a floaty frock that housed ones bump adequately and all for the grand price of £15.00

I was even more pleased when a John Lewis shop assistant asked me if my dress was from Arket. No no, this is Primark darling.

Some Thoughts on Maternity Wear

Ahh the pain in the ass that is trying to find relatively stylish maternity wear. Or maternity wear that feels remotely like 'you' anyway. I'm tempted to sum up the hours I've spent both on-line and on foot, searching for frocks to shroud my gradually expanding lady lumps, with the words 'what a shower of shite' but that would, of course, be uncouth and not the positive uplifting piece of prose that you might expect, and deserve, on a relaxing Sunday morning. 

It seems that my visions of floating effortlessly from one antenatal checkup to the next, in a series of minimal yet stylish dresses, remain just that, visions. Herein lies the problems I've found trying to buy maternity clothes.

A Night At The Angel Inn, Hetton

Is it just me or has everyone on social media been diving off yachts in the South of France of late? Perhaps it's just my mind cruelly noting selective updates that'll pain me the most given that I haven't wanted to venture too far from home this summer. 

It's not all doom and gloom though.  Gazing longingly from afar has only been a small portion of recent months. In lieu of a 'proper' holiday we opted for a staycation this year instead. You still get the cathartic release of packing a case and fu**ing off but don't have the hassle of fitting your entire wash bag into one small clear plastic bag. Nor do you have to neck double G&Ts at the airport just to keep those claustrophobic thoughts from sneaking in... 
"It doesn't matter that you can't get off the plane, you don't need to get off the plane"... repeat as necessary

Yes, a staycation is a lot less hassle for those prone to an airport tizz. Our staycation took us, in the comfort of a car, across the Lancashire border and into the North Yorkshire Dales for a stay at The Angel Inn at Hetton. 

St.Ives & Saving Up For Art Worth Hanging

This won't be the first time that I've prattled on about my love for St.Ives and it also won't be the last. Having holidayed there with family every year since day dot, bar the years when you don't won't to be seen dead with your parents, St.Ives has become one of my favourite places to be. Once a year my parents, very kindly, rent a house and we all descend for a week of sea views, sandy feet and if I'm being completely honest, baked goods. 

An Official Announcement - I'm Knocked Up

Yes I got knocked up, but not by Robbie the creep. (If you know, you know)

This weeks post is a personal one. While talk does centre around my cervix I promise not to mention trimesters.

Let me get straight into it with a cervical fact - Did you know that the average woman's cervix is 4cm long? Mine, courtesy of last years wretched encounter with cervical cancer, is now only 9mm and what the medical world would term 'incompetent'. Triffic. 

Hello cervical stitch. Also triffic. Remind me to add Cervial cerclage to my National Record of Achievement.

To cut a long story short (no pun intended), that's me skipping cross stitch for the foreseeable.

A Night At Northcote Manor

Is there anywhere nicer to be than tucked up in the crisp whites of a comfy hotel bed while the contents of an indulgent dinner slosh about your stomach? Throw in a few added extras by way of Classic FM lowly playing on the radio as you arrive, a tea tray to rival the most mothering of Mothers, and it'll do pour moi. 
I'm talking cafetières, home made ginger biscuits and fresh milk. Sling yer hook UHT one is having a half decent brew today.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder - A Catch Up

It's often the case that the first sentence is the hardest to write. More so when you haven't put 'pen to paper' in months. I've had an unplanned blog hiatus you see, and without any hugely interesting reason other than I've just not been feeling it. I've enjoyed a delightful freedom in letting the blog be for a bit.

I'm not entirely sure what brought about the change. I kept meaning to come on here and catch up but found I wasn't 100% on what I wanted to share. There's a thin line between sharing and coming across as showy, and I grew troubled by what side of the line I sat. I came to the conclusion that this blog doesn't really represent me anymore...
*sing Les Miserables 'Who Am I?' now

The Pink Ladies Pledge

My puffer jacket exploded at the seams yesterday in a beautifully timed tribute to long awaited Spring weather. Thank goodness then, that the sun put his hat on. Hip hip hip hooray indeed. In a second turn up for the books I wore pink, and pastel pink at that. There'll be no toddlers in Office World harking, *"that's not a lady, that's a man" today. 
*based on a true event

Yes, I Went Motor-homing & No, I've Not Retired

There are two things to note. 
1, I recently spent 4 nights in a motorhome taking in the sights of Northumberland. 
2, I am not getting a perm nor taking early retirement. 

You heard it here first, people will be ditching their VW campers by the droves, in favour of a Sunlight T69L before you can say purple rinse.

A Saturday in Manchester

Well hello there, how's things? You might have noticed that I missed posting last Sunday. I was let down by unforeseen delays developing a roll of film. Trying to keep up with the cool kids is harder than it looks. I din't want to churn out any old thing in a bit of a rush (I think better of you than that) so instead the week slipped by without a post. 

In truth, perhaps I could've managed to squeeze some quality content out at the last minute had I not spent the most part of last Saturday catching up with a friend in Manchester. 

If a recent tweet by @TheMinimalists is to be believed "Your calendar reflects your true priorities" then make what you will of 'cocktails over lunch with Sarah'.

Confessions No.1 - A New Monthly Series

Hello pals! How's tricks? I've been trying to think of something that could be a bit of a regular feature on here. A series of some sort that I could make a monthly fixture and I think I've decided on a confessional. It'll be a chatty post on whatever springs to mind that may bring on hot sweats (mine that is) but will hopefully provide you with five or ten minutes of entertainment. Will it be worth the oversharing? We'll see.

Not All White On The Night

I always have a little note pad with me for jotting down any ideas or musings that might one day see the light of a blog post. I find it helps to keep ideas flowing and I enjoy scribbling away in my own world instead of scouring t'internet at the risk of slipping into comparison mode. We all know where that ends up. 

So I was quite happy earlier this week penning a few absolute corkers about white jeans and why I'd never owned a pair before. There was a hilarious comparison to Razorlight's Johnny Borrell and a side splitting reflection on an open invitation for your period to start.

Friends on Film

Last week two of my close friends, Sarah and Alicia, came round for a long overdue night of friends, fizz and a look at what the future holds (we did tarot card readings huddled in front of the log burner). We started the night sipping champagne from vintage champagne saucers with the soothing tones of James Blake playing while we set to catching up. Fast forward to 3:00am and James Blake's been replaced by Haddaway What is Love, I've changed my lower half only into pyjamas, one of us is asleep sitting up and none of us can remember what the tarot cards said.

Never Wish Your Time Away - Unless It's January

Well pals, lets give ourselves a pat on the back, we've made it. January is D.O.N.E 

I know you really shouldn't wish your time away but I just can't help counting down the days until January is behind us. It's all the blues propaganda keeping me on my toes. The fear mongering that I might plummet into a bout of post festive depression at any unsuspecting moment. Like everyones Mum in the run up to the Millennium, I've been anticipating disaster, but without the need to stock pile tins and loo rolls.

A Necklace with Meaning - Daisy Jewellery & Jo's Cervical Cancer Trust

After last week's post included a brief whinge about social media, I'm writing this weeks with my tail between my legs, so to speak. Without social media I would never have stumbled upon Daisy Jewellery's collaboration with Jo's Cervical Cancer Trust and their beautiful Aphrodite necklaces.

Released to coincide with cervical cancer prevention week, £10.00 from each necklace sold goes directly to Jo's Cervical Cancer Trust, "to help raise awareness towards preventing the disease and provide vital support to those affected by it." Has their ever been a more perfect excuse to buy a beautiful piece of jewellery?

Taking The Pressure Off

This Sunday I'm bringing you a little ramble about why we all need to take the pressure off, sprinkled with a couple of accidental blue steels.

I work in a University office, which is a slightly fancier way of saying I work in admin. We've just come out of exam week, a naturally scary time when weeks of learning is put to the test in one anxiety inducing sitting. It's stressful. Nobody wants to pay nine grand a year to come out with nothing, I get it. But after seeing the highly fretful state that people were getting themselves into last week I found myself blaming the one failsafe target for all modern day problems, including putting too much pressure on ourselves to succeed ... Social Media.

What Would Joan Collins Think?

There will be many moments in our lives that stand out as significant. Being swayed to buy a shirt because it had a fleece lining was recently one of them in mine. It was a poignant reminder that my boob tube wearing days are loooong gone, replaced indefinitely, thank goodness, with what I'll call the cosy years. 

The Art of Living

Well hello. How's the new year treating you so far?

I don't know about you, but I find that once the excitement and promise that comes with a brand new year has died down a little, what a bleak old month January can be. I suppose there are lots of ways to beat the January blues, resolutions that might distract, that sort of thing, but the month to me, and to most I presume, always feels a bit flat.

So I decided yesterday, on the first Saturday of the year, to go for a walk. Just myself and my camera. I walked for two hours in the fresh air, alone but not lonely. There's something about wandering feet that prompts the mind to follow suit, and naturally I got to thinking about all sorts of things.
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