Perfume Discoveries, Pop Art And Monochrome Tones

Today I had it all wrapped up. I was to be at the World of Work til 1, then free-wheeling the rest of the afternoon, doing exciting things. Like buying a ball of black wool at the market, to finish a black, grey and white scarf I've been knitting the past 2 evenings. And painting another dining room wall mid-grey... having an obsession with pop art and primary colours at the moment, so planning to put up some colourful prints on a darker background in the next few days.

Almost made myself late this morning as Jarvis Cocker was on 6Music, saying something about songs he used to write when he was a young'un. When I got there, the frenzy began - not enough staff, finding awol tutors, no coffee, stopping students gluing each others' faces, coping with students obsessed already by christmas... and doing overtime until 4 o'clock.

Got back. Lovely warm afternoon. Cup of tea and chocolate brioche. Out in the garden. Have an unofficial deal with the American neighbour to bring in each others' dustbins, whoever is around at the time. This involves navigating 2 huge wheelie bins round several corners and down an alleyway between the houses. How quaint - only up north, eh. Invariably there is cat crap somewhere in the alley. Which is not at all quaint, and the cats had been there again.

I wondered about spraying some old perfume around, to see if that would deter the moggies. Lancome's Magie Noire, which I bought a decade ago, has always been a bit heavy and noticeable on me, maybe ok in winter. I could just waste the rest of it on the alleyway... I squirted my wrists, and sniffed, googled the ingredients, sniffed it some more... Found a charming perfume blog and signed up to it... and decided it was definitely too good to waste on the alleyway. I shall wear it over the next few days and expect people to be asking me what it is. Or else some cats may run the other way. And my spam box will get filled up with garden pest deterrent products.

Trouble At The Supermarket

After the awful news about Sian O'Callaghan being abducted and killed by a taxi driver, I had a bizarre dream about my debit card being stolen, and that taxi driver getting hold of it and using the pin number because the bank hadn't cancelled it.... Later that day I went to pay at the supermarket, by card, and the keypad had a wonky button and was putting one of the numbers on twice... Of course, my card got refused and I had to whizz up the road for some good old-fashioned proper cash, and go back and pay for my now-melting Ben'n'Jerrys.

This morning Living Etc arrived, with its usual delicious eye-candy, and some especially lovely homes on pages 66 and 134. Pink cushions and textiles - totally gorgeous, which got me well and truly in magpie-mode for today's trip to The Bigger Town With Better Shops Than Here. Funnily enough, all I ended up with house-wise was some funky Habitat notice board magnets. Though I finally found The Perfume! I am now wearing Sanctuary's Wild Rose and Violet (with sandalwood, silver tea and magnolia). Delish.

Aside from the perfume, a close second as Highlight Of The Day had to be spotting a little boy in Wimpy who was a dead-ringer for the blond Charlie in the first Charlie & The Chocolate Factory film. He was wearing the red polo neck too. Which I imagine was some kind of post-ironic statement by the child's parents. Obviously, I was in Wimpy purely to imbue the 12 year old with social history vis a vis how high street eateries used to be once upon a time.

Diy chez Trashsparkle is having to be pretty quiet at the moment - there is a new baby on one side of us, and a not-very-well old lady on the other. So I have self-imposed a no-drilling-and-not-much-hammering rule. This led on to a decision on what to do with the wall going up to the loftroom. I was planning a montage of old family snaps, but hadn't found any thin black square frames. Am now going to go a moodboard instead, which is a fab excuse to dig out some Liz Taylor postcards...

Au sujet de Liz, I went to bed dog-tired last night but ended up reading the James Christopher photographic biography for an hour, right up to the  4th marriage. I'd bought it years ago because of the fabulous pics, but had never got round to reading it. Rivetting. She was the last of a kind.


* Guardian weekend mag

Trashsparkle's Perfume Reviewette

Yep, that's right. Reviewette. I may very well have just made that word up. For the purpose of not making this post look like I got any further with the Fragrance Forays. No Viv W - the Boots in this town is not grand enough, so I tried Jimmy Choo instead. Light, giddy and not unlike the swanky, pungent talc that was in abundance in the 70s. I have not yet found the One. Idly wondering what a perfume by Spend Spend Spend Viv Nicholson would have been like; stale babycham, players no.6, crimpelene, with a heady note of peroxide and a dash of disappointment?

The bouncy sunny afternoon is very apt for playing the new Adele album. Full-bodied production qualities.

Tomorrow is an Official Day Off. And what a stupid day to arrange to have the boiler mot'd. It means I'll have to clean the bathroom and hoik all the stuff out of the airing cupboard at some point tonight. I don't mind doing that kind of thing, but only when I feel like it, not because a man who will try to flog me a carbon monoxide detector is coming round.

And the kitchen will be happening soon - the man who is doing the plumbing did not suck air thru his teeth, and is sending a chap round later this week to look at my not-to-scale scribblings; the only proof  that everything will fit is the big pencilled arrows I have drawn on the walls. There will be room to swing large feline creatures, and more vitally, room to get to the sink without long-jumping over the open dishwasher door or risking a hot pan attaching itself to your sleeve.

Alice, Don't Give It Away

Cracking on with the how-disgusted-am-I-at-my-own-laziness angle, I cleared yet another heap of unhomed rubbish off the dining table this evening. The kids were getting confused about being expected to eat there, and seeing as our lifestyle has evidently instilled social deviancy in the one who is no longer going to school, the function of the dining table seems fairly pivotal in lessening the slide into ruin.

There wasn't anything greatly exciting lurking there; 2 weekend's worth of papers, and the latest Telegraph cuttings that my mum sends, after she's cryptically highlighted sections in yellow. This batch were about Brighton, doing up old tat, and the over-prescription of ritalin. There was also last term's unread school newsletter, 3 old brass doorknobs that might get turned into a bag-hanging thing, picture frames left there the last time I thought about framing some fabric, and some broken necklaces that I'll fix if I could find those jewellery pliers.

Getting more unfinished things done, I will return to the Boots perfume counter sometime this week, to sniff the Vivienne Westwood violetty, musky, black rose one. Don't fancy the idea of telling people it's called Naughty Alice though.


At the World of Work I did a grand job of putting my foot down about words being written like what they is spoke. The lady who used to announce Watch With Mother would be spitting teeth if she knew what it's all come to these days, so I hope I'm making her proud...

Bag of Pixies

Feel very lucky today - have had double-day-off time this week, so all very chilled and trying to be focussed. On sorting my life out a bit more. Bigger. Better. Faster. Go....

Of course, I had to have a few Pixies tracks to start today off, but am playing Frank Black to get more of his vocals, while figuring out a faster way to sell my vintage stuff. I am hopelessly undisciplined at listing stuff, the photos-in-a-good-light and the description malarkey, but its easy-peasy really. But imagine how brilliant it would be to have an app like in the tesco advert, but sort of in reverse. You scan your phone over a mid-century coffeepot, and 3 seconds later, its on eBay, beautifully photographed, accurately described.... Oh, please someone, invent it now.

Have been in to town for coffee and cake and was intending to try out some perfumes, but waylaid by the sale rail of acrylic goodies elsewhere I felt too bag ladyish and lost my nerve. Not sure what scent a bag lady should wear, but the one squirt of O' de Lancome I sneaked before backing out of Boots is not quite it.