There is no bread

News reached my little home that the main road nearby was clear so I decided to make an epic treck out into the frozen north to see how far I could get.

Defrosting the vehicle is epic enough when covered in six inches of snow (yeah, snow that even my high heels can't lift me out of) but due to utter boredom from being stuck in the house I attacked it with enthusiasm and even gave a Westwood scarf it's first outing. I knew I was too enthused when I found myself sculpting the snow on the roof of the car into "a cute white hairstyle". Then I started to get a bit cold.

The snow was so thick on the sides of the car that when it came to doing the side nearest the fence I had to clear the snow in front of me in order to get to the rest of the car. During defrosting of wing mirrors my brave and worthy efforts were briefly interrupted by a typical blonde moment. I sprayed the de-icer in the wrong direction, and the shock of having my face de-iced caused me to fall backwards into the snow screaming, and consequently loose both the de-icer spray and the de-icing scraper thingumy object into the snow. ...I didn't discover that I'd lost them until I'd returned from de-de-icing myself inside the house. And getting into the house was difficult, covered in snow, freaking out, one eye shut against de-icer and charging at the door full force until to go splat against the window in discovery that I'd locked the door.

*sigh* Anyway, the car was de-iced and I set out enjoying the weird way my dear little ford fiesta moved trying to fight it's way through the thick snow. We found our way to a "clean" road with cheers and wonderment and set off at a dangerous 25mph in over excited enthusiasm. The ice at the first crossing slowed us down considerably. Reached the supermarket fine and parked wrecklessly in what I assumed was the disabled area (though I couldn't see through the snow, and that was my excuse for finally rebelling against half the car park being taken up with spaces that no-one uses). There were two other cars in the car park, thoroughly frozen and obviously belonging to staff.

There was no bread, (woohoo! justification of the bread maker I bought before xmas just in order to make the cinnamon roll recipe from Julie Anne's blog ), no fruit except for a teeny bunch of child size bananas, and no frozen chips that weren't in "microwavable boxes". In fact there was little or none of all the sensible items. Therefore I was totally excused for stocking up on double chocolate cheesecake, potato wedges, walkers crisps, Fry's Turkish Delight and the "expensive" italian food in the fridge department.

Tried to commiserate with a bloke in the bread department who was having a rather audible nervous breakdown because there was no bread to make his kids' breakfast with... wasn't successful. I had cleverly substituted bakewell tarts for breakfast food and was feeling smug about it.

Mother was stuck at her house with cupboards and freezers fit to bursting with food (she's a supermarket addict instead of a supermarket phobic like her daughter) but terribly distressed that her cats couldn't have wafer thin ham... so I was brave and bought a packet of dead animal for her cats.

The road wasn't clear to hers in any way. Abandonned the car before it got stuck and trekked up the hill past teenagers who were still enjoying knocking each other over into the snow, a man trying to clear his driveway with the aid of a shovel and a wheelbarrow, and various women opening the door just to take a picture of the frozen wasteland so that they could prove it had happened.

The flash bulbs were a bit of a shock in the snowy, lamplit darkness. You really don't expect paparazzi in Elland of an evening when everyone's snowed in. But I was prepared anyway in my Westwood "frozen weather ensemble" teamed with a coat which probably came from Matalan. ...if this weather continues, I shall consider investing in Pucci snowboots.

...and one of those Anglomania coats that looks like a douvet and will match the pattern on "The Precious" (see earlier post). If you're going to fall flat on your face in the snow, at least look cute while doing it and then any boys nearby will come to pick you up and dust you off. If you're lucky they'll help you carry your shopping home too. I learnt this while living in Liverpool where there was an excess of helpful young gentlemen tripping over themselves to aid a damsel in any form of distress so long as she looked stylish or was wearing a short skirt.

Anyway, got to mums with the provisions (handing over the last bunch of bananas in Elland cos she's addicted to the things) and managed to get my car going on a road where only wreckless fools would be stupid enough to change up into second gear. After a lot of revving and skating about I even got my car back up the drive withut bashing into either the fence, the house or the dustbin. Hurrah!

Now I must be going as I have double chocolate cheesecake and micro chips to eat.

Expensive Fashion Pangs

Though there have been times when money has been so tight that we've had to share heinz tomato soup for one between two of us, my mother has brought me up with a love of quality in clothing. From the cabin trunk's worth of Nana's divine evening gowns in the loft, through mum's to-die-for shoe collection and the special childhood trips to a department store for a party dress when daddy was feeling a bit flush. I've worn beautiful childhood clothes until they really positively do not fit me anymore, taken them in to have them alterred into another outfit that will fit me, or worn a destroyed party dress as extravagant playing out clothes because I just refuse to part with it.

When I hit my decade long obsession with wearing nothing that wasn't from the 1960s I looked down upon offerings from Mary Quant for being badly made because I'd already been given a few season's collections of much better clothing that once belonged to my mother and Grandmother in the 60s.

I have a wardrobe full of evening gowns and go very over dressed to parties just to actually have the chance to wear some of them, and yet I am always seeing new things that I crave to own but will rarely get the chance to wear. ...these items are usually outrageously expensive too which plays dreadfully upon my knowledge that such sums of money are better spent on good causes.

I've been craving a Herve Leger bandage dress ever since I realised that they look better on women with curves than stick insect models, and that they do much better colour combinations than Victoria Beckham wears. The sight of them makes me sigh with desire and have to run off and eat quite a quantity of chocolate before the pain that I can't afford one becomes lessened.

The sight of this one will require more than a box of ferrero rochers to get over. It costs a mere $1050. Just think how many tins of cat food for abandonned kitty cats that would buy. I shall have to drop some more boxes of cat food into the animal rescue donation bin next to I go food shopping. That'll make me feel a bit better.

*insert wistfull sigh here, followed by the sound of gold foil being unwrapped*

These ones I can't sigh over too much, because they're made out of dead cows and that means they can never have wardrobe space in my home. But they *look* divine. And would be divine if they were vegan. As if the pain that Manolos and Louboutins only come in leather isn't enough, Alexander McQueen has to give me shoe pangs too. £525 worth of exquisitely crafted dead animal skin: Thankfully Madame Westwood now collaborates with the vegan planet saving shoe makers at Melissa on some of her footwear. Therefore the sight of the the dead cow booties can be lessened by putting on my candy scented elevated three strap Westwood heels which are all the more wondrous for being made in rubber as the style of them suggests the sort of mistress who will require wipe down fashion.

While I'm whining about McQueen that I can't afford and can't give wardrobe space to due to silkworm guilt, cow guilt and assorted cute fluffy animal guilt, here are sme other delectable items that I've been admiring for so long that I've forgotten which season they're from:

£3876 of goddess worthy embroidered silk:

£484 of screamingly neon pink leather:£1885 of silver screen starlet style woolen warmth:

£2892 of silk formed into the ultimate "you couldn't afford me" kaftan:

£1732 of draped silk chiffon that you can't possibly walk in:

£944 of silk that deserves to be in an episode of Poirot:

And the most cravable £1972 of silk formed into McQueen's Kimono dégradé mini dress:Finally Mr McQueen made something that doesn't involve the death of an animal, so I have no way of not desiring it. It is bizarrely a pleated skirt that's so perfect that it refuses to ever go out of fashion. Thankfully all £494 worth of it is now out of stock everywhere so I'm safe. *sigh*

Now I need to go sit for a while eating chocolate while wearing my Westwood heels and hugging "The Precious". The Precious is my newest Westwood aquisition.



I'm not usually into these bulky bags, being more of a 50s/60s box bag kind of a girl. And I have more Marilyn Monroe handbags than is at all sensible. ...but when I saw the huuuuge red tartan quilted Anglomania handbag with squiggle print stitching in the Westwood store in Leeds, dear Charley nearly had to carry me out on a stretcher. I was convinced it would be trimmed with leather but still looked it up on the internet so that I could drool at the image of it. Wondrously, it was trimmed in gloriously Westwood styled PVC and I wanted it. On return to the store with Charley (to buy Pirate boots) the huuuge bag I had seen was now sold out but there was a much more usable miniature version complete with quirky little rosette and orb engraved gold fittings left alone on the shelf. The shop assistants had to coax me gently in order to prise it from my fingers so that we could go try on boots downstairs.

Thus far it has only had a couple of outings, during which I clung to it in fear it would get hurt in some way. It now usually resides in it's own super soft Westwood dust bag awaiting another outing... but I fetch it out to hug it and examine it and generalyl love it lots. It's my new teddy bear really. "The Precious".