About this blog

This is a window into the weird world of Anglicanism, as experienced on a Cathedral Close. Has anything much happened since Trollope's Barchester Chronicles? You will still see the 'canon in residence' hurrying across to choral Evensong, robes flapping, as the late bell chimes. But look carefully and you will notice he is checking the football score on his iPhone as he runs. This is also a writer's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the novelist's life. And it's a fighter's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the judo mat. Well, the agony, anyway.

Wednesday 18 January 2012

DAY 18

Today feels almost spring like.  The ice has all melted off the winter jasmine which is growing on our yard beneath a dripping overflow pipe.  I am sitting at my desk without the heating on, without a hat, without my glamorous hot water bottle and blanket combo.  It's warmer out than in today.  This is often true of these big old houses.   On Saturday I managed to warm up a bottle of champagne by taking it out of the pantry and putting it in the fridge.  But in a heatwave we're laughing.  Just you wait and see.

So today I was able to burst out of my ugly cocoon of base layers and fake fur and take to my pretty butterfly wings!  Here's a sort of blogging equivalent of a fabric swatch:


I should have planned ahead and taken another eBay style picture.  And warm though it is, it's not quite warm enough for me to remedy this omission right now.  The patterned garment is a 70 style top (on me) or dress (on a younger person).  The label says it's made by 'LOVE'.  Aw.  What could be nicer?  It has a V-neck, long tight cuffs and slightly billowy sleeves and is empire line. A word of warning about empire line dresses if the bosom gods smiled upon you at puberty.  Make sure the garment also displays your waist (if you have one).  Gravity dictates that the fabric will hang down from your widest point and you will look a pillar box.  This makes smocks a joke for the curvy figure.  Actually, they are a joke on anyone but a Hardy yokel, really.  This dress ties round the back, so you can nip it in at the waist.

Wearing something that suits your figure--combined with standing up straight and wearing a decent bra--takes a decade of your looks and half a stone off your weight.  I could be one of those annoying ads that pops up on the side of your PC screen.  'Lose 20lb of belly fat with this simple tip from a Lichfield housewife!'  I've always assumed these are really links to porn sites, so I never click on them.  Maybe they all just say 'Stand up straight and get a decent bra!'  Honestly, it works: try it.  I'm mainly addressing my women readers here, by the way.

Sorry, but that picture is annoying me.  The colours aren't quite true and you are not getting the full effect of my new skill of uncoordination.  The fabric does not have a green component to match the cardigan, take my word for it.  Though I will confess the scarf matches.  I'm also wearing brown treggings and those tan boots again. And when I went out to Lidl just now, I didn't even need a coat.  But If I had, it would have been a turquoise one.  With a red hat.  That doesn't suit me and doesn't go, as the poet says.

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