weekend in london town: sunday

Tourist day number two was to Camden Town with my little brother as well as my parents in tow. 

Unlike Abbey Road, I'd been there many times before and I'm still not bored of it. I'm a big fan of vintage and retro stuff in general and the Stables Market is the perfect place for it. Everything is all crammed together and a bit of a maze with lots of different passages you can explore. Its an exciting place to go with lots of things to take photos of. There are a few miserable shopkeepers who tell you off if you take photos of their stuff but other than that its all good!

It'd been a long time since I'd been in Camden. I think the last time was when I went to my friend's birthday party and Kevin Spacey turned up…A random story that I can't be bothered to explain.

There's not much more to say about Camden apart from that everyone should go!

weekend in london town: saturday

Living in London and putting up with the tube and the crowds every day means its really easy to forget to be a tourist. Once in a while its good to get out and see all the things you normally rush past.

I still haven't gone up the stairs to the top of Monument, seen the smallest police station in Britain or spotted the random nose on Admiralty Arch (I've tried but failed so far) A couple of weekends ago I did go and see some Grade II listed road markings though…

My parents visited and that's always a good excuse to get out and about and look at interesting things. Despite being a huuuugggeee Beatles fan I still hadn't gotten around to visiting Abbey Road Studios and the famous zebra crossing outside of it. If you don't know the crossing I'm on about, please leave now.

I crossed the crossing…multiple times. There were quite a few other people there too, all making a nuisance of themselves.

1. They insisted on stopping in the middle of the road to get their photos taken in bad walking poses while the traffic was forced to wait.

2. They got in the way of me trying to stop in the middle of the road to get my photo taken in a bad walking pose while the traffic was forced to wait.

Turns out Abbey Road is pretty busy on a Saturday afternoon and I got a total of zero good photos of the actual crossing. The photo for the album cover was taken from right in the middle of the road with only a couple of cars in the distance. A photo from a pavement with a queue of buses and a load of other tourists hanging around isn't good enough!

As the place is only half an hour walk from my current flat I've decided to go back at 5am at some point when its more likely to be clear…Is it even light at 5am these days? I might have to wait until next summer now.

As is tradition, I added my scribble to the wall outside Abbey Road Studios. Note to self: take a better pen next time. If you cared to look (and search for hours) you'd find my 'AliceInPepperland 2011' on the wall directly opposite the door of the recordings studios.

Being a proper fan, I also wandered a few streets away from Abbey Road to Cavendish Avenue to see Paul McCartney's 60s home. I think he still owned it until pretty recently. There was no Paul to be seen but no other tourists either which meant a smug I'm-a-better-fan-than-you-are feeling overrode the disappointment of no photos of the zebra crossing.

A blue plaque told me that Billy Fury (real name Ronald William Wycherle. Ha) also lived on the avenue in the 60s. I think I should get a time machine and buy myself a place there...

The walk wasn't over for the day. We carried on past Lords cricket ground and through St John's Wood to Regents Park. After stopping for a lollipop we left the park and went on to 221b Baker Street.

We didn't go inside Sherlock Holmes' house this time but when I saw a photo in the museum shop of Dustin Hoffman posing with a policeman outside the famous door I felt a bit better about having to stand there for what felt like 10 minutes while other tourists waited for a turn while my Dad took a photo.

Next door was another little London gem: the Beatles store! Many many things in there I wanted to buy. I'll have to go back sometime when I'm feeling rich.

the glue that holds everything together…

…is quickly destroyed by my bottle of un-du® Original Adhesive, Sticker, Tape and Label remover.

My paradise with my new books was extremely troubled by the fact that some of them had stickers on the spines that seemed to have been stuck on with superglue. They were ruining the look of my lovely bookshelves and keeping me awake at night (slight exaggeration but only a slight one)

The internet saved my life once again and told me of a little bottle that could solve all my problems…After downing the vodka I then found the above mentioned 'undu' and bought that too.

I thought I'd share it with the world so you can take those pesky price tags off presents for people without it turning into a glue and paper mess and ruining your life. 

Isn't this blog the most exciting thing you've ever read?!

frankie and jeremy

Once upon a time there was a geek girl and a geek boy. One day they made books for each other. In the back of the one for the boy was a questionnaire where the girl asked him to go out with her…After he ticked 'Yes' he was trapped forever.

Two years later, me and Jay felt we needed to be geeky together again for our anniversary. We decided to sew each other a toy to give each other on the day. Despite me hassling him for months, Jay managed to keep what he was making me a secret…until the night before when he accidentally announced it without me even trying to find out! Nice one.

Here's what we made:

I made Frankie Fox and Jay made Jeremy the Monkey. We both happened to choose patterns from the same shop on Etsy: Click here to have a look

ashtrays and killer crabs (croatia part 3)

After the storm passed we had no more bad weather in Croatia. We saw Pete and his wife (I like to think of her as Maureen) a couple of times the week we were on the island and we always had a little wave at each other. They saved our lives so I'll have to vote them to be the best people we met.

The next best person was the owner of a restaurant we went to for dinner on our first night in Stari Grad. Igor's restaurant was a dark little venue with fishing nets and pictures of boats all over the place. Tansley ordered fish and I had a simple pizza. I was way too tired to cope with something like the langoustine from the other night. I don't think I've ever had such a case of food envy ever before. Tansley's looked amazing! I think while Igor was perfecting the amazing crispy fish he overdid my sad looking pizza.

We were the only people in the restaurant. In fact, the whole town seemed deserted. Igor's wife sat texting on her phone at one table and Igor himself was on his laptop at another. It was a bit like we had just turned up in someone's house and started eating… I think Igor must've been bored because at one point during our peaceful meal there was a big smash. I didn't see what happened but Tansley informs me (and he should be reliable, being a news employee) that Igor had been juggling the glass ashtrays from the tables outside…

The entertainment was then followed with a free shot of grappa courtesy of Igor. I wasn't sure at first but when I saw a small pot of paint in the corner of the restaurant it was confirmed that it must've actually been paint stripper. It was meant for after the meal but I drank it just before the end, burning off my taste buds and not being able to taste the rest of my meal. At least I still had some apple juice to wash it down with though. Tansley had to take the pain.

The holiday was a lazy one. Every other day we'd go sight-seeing around Stari Grad or one of the surrounding towns. We visited Hvar Town and although it was pretty it was no way near as good as our quiet little Stari Grad.

Stari Grad

Hvar Town

As the week went on we started to see more tourists but Stari Grad stayed pretty deserted. On our lazy days we always went to a beach. I say beach…The island looked very much like Scotland. It was covered in pines and steep hills led down to the waters edge. The steep slopes meant that beaches didn't really exist or if they did they were small pebbly ones. So along the coast were some man-made concrete 'beaches'. They were…an experience! I can't quite say I ever got comfortable lying on one reading my book. But that was more than made up for with the weather and the warm sea. Warm sea. I didn't know it could be possible! After years of freezing to death on Cornish beaches I could actually get into the sea up to my neck and swim around without dying!

The biggest risk of death and/or nipped toes I only noticed when it scuttled past my face as I was lying down reading…Crabs. Lots and lots of crabs.

We generally had the beaches to ourselves apart from maybe one or two other quiet people. We knew our holiday was over when on our last day our favourite and most special beach was invaded by a whole glassful of loud kids…

In the evenings we watched Croatian Masterchef and a few of the many soap operas available. It's good fun trying to work out what on earth is going on. Masterchef seems to have about 50 judges in Croatia…and all of them love blatantly advertising weird looking packets of food.

I read a lot too. Reading 'World War Z' by Max Brooks at night when you're the only people in an apartment block is scary…Very scary! I had my escape route planned (Don't bother seeing the movie, by the way. It'll be rubbish because they've changed so much. Read the book for sure though.) When someone actually did move in to the block later in the week I wasn't reassured! They sounded zombie-ish with their banging around...

On our last night we had to go back to the first restaurant:

1. I needed to have that amazing fish meal.

2. We wanted the legend that is Igor to be our goodbye from the island.

The night didn't disappoint. This time Igor (instead of smashing the place up) completely disappeared after our meal. We waited so long for him to come back that even his constantly texting wife noticed and went off to find him. Good ol' Igor.

The next day we got the ferry back to Split for one more night before flying home. I have never in my life had a worse nights sleep. Split, having been quiet when we were first there, had become slightly lively… Somehow Tansley managed to sleep through drunks shouting, a couple having a screaming argument, a man's howl, carts being dragged down the paving stones outside, whipping sounds, and (I'm not entirely sure I didn't make this up in my delirium) a Croatian barbershop quartet singing…I had exactly one hours sleep before we travelled back.

Just to show us we were back in England there was a massive thunder and lightning storm as soon as we arrived. This time I wasn't so lucky as to not get soaked before I got home…Bring on next year!

*most likely not his name but he definitely looked like an Igor.

ferries and thunderstorms (croatia part 2)

After our short adventure in Split we went to the port and got the ferry to an island called Hvar about 2 hours away. It was boiling hot and the sea was like glass. Coming from Britain I'm used to the sea being like…the sea! You know, actual waves and such…I don't really know how it works…maybe the islands were blocking the waves or something.

The main town on Hvar is also called Hvar. What a coincidence! Its known for its bars and restaurants and is a popular place for rich boat people with private yachts…Having forgotten to pack my yacht we were going to be staying in a quieter town called Stari Grad. 

The ferry conveniently dropped us about a mile from Stari Grad, so while everyone else got on buses to be with the posh Hvar people, me and Tansley walked along the coast into Stari Grad and up the hill to where our apartment for the week was.

The place wasn't hard to find (the building being bright pink) and like the tourists we were we waved our booking confirmation at a lady standing vaguely near the building. She had a look at the paper and a look at the building and shook her head. She called over a man who looked like Pete from Twin Peaks. He had a look at the paper and a look at the building and shook his head. The word I remember being repeated fairly often was 'problem' (imagine it in a Croatian accent, it's better) The building was owned by the couple's neighbour and they didn't think the apartments would be open for another two weeks…

Having paid online for a full week at the apartment this wasn't the best news we could've heard. Either a mistake had been made about the dates or we'd been robbed of our cash! Pete and his wife took us to their house a couple of doors down the road. We sat in their porch while we listened to them make phone calls, wondering exactly what was going on. We were just coming up with a plan to get the next ferry straight back to Split to go to the British Embassy and refuse to move until they'd sorted the problem (or whatever you're supposed to do at these embassy places) when a lady came up the drive to the house. Pete must've called the owner and got her to come and fetch us so we shook his hand and dumbly followed her up to our apartment.

I don't think I have ever felt so thankful in my life! As we sat there laughing with relief, rain started pouring down and there was a good old thunder and lightning storm to welcome us to the island.

tall towers and lots of legs (croatia part 1)

Since leaving university and actually earning enough money to live I wanted to see some more of the world. Nothing fancy like a year off travelling around the world (although I would if I could afford it!) but just a little holiday abroad once in a while to tick off a few countries on my 'to go to' list. All of my holidays except one as a child were in Britain so my list is long. For at least two summers I've said I'm going but then something happens which has meant I can't unless I go on my own (boring)

This year I finally escaped! An early morning at the end of May and some cheap flights later I've arrived in Croatia with my old university housemate Tansley (Tansley McFransley, Fransley, Mr T, Mr Tea, Teatotal, G&T and as many others as I can think of)

The flight took us to Split, the city we were going to stay for two days before getting the ferry to one of the islands. The city is big but its heart is an old palace which later turned into a trading point with winding alleys alongside a cathedral and belltower. A large 'city' wall with an entrance on each side still shows you where the palace is/was…I'd make a rubbish travel writer. Anyway, there's this old square section of the city that the rich guy with the palace used to live.

When we looked online before we went I was surprised to find a little flat to stay in actually within the palace walls. I understood it better when we arrived. If the palace was in London it'd be shut off and you'd have to pay £10 to get in to visit it. In Split it is still living and breathing with cafes, restaurants, apartments and shops occupying the old buildings.

Annoyingly the first thing it did when we arrived in the country was rain. This wasn't a good start to my amazing first proper holiday! At least we were on a bus though and it'd stopped by the time we had to drag our massive backpackers bags (hand luggage only to save money and time) through the old town to get to our little apartment.

It turned out the palace is rather small…we walked past all of the sights I had obsessively printed maps out for before we'd even arrived at the apartment. Walking from one side of the palace to the other took about 2 minutes. Never mind, I was on holiday! Tansley was being wimpy and tired from having left my flat in London at 2am so he went to sleep while I read my book and waited out the grey sky.

We avoided looking properly at all the sights yet again when we went to have dinner that night. It was a place described as being like a 'granny's front room' in the travel guide we took with us. Obviously it was the place to go! It was filled with weird little ornaments and stuffed fish on plaques and the tables were old Singer sewing tables.

Chucked in the deep end with a Croatian menu, with the help of a lovely waiter we both ordered some kind of seafood risotto. I love fish but when faced with prawns and langoustine mostly-vegetarian Tansley and uncultured me didn't really know what to do. My food education comes from watching Come Dine With Me and they don't show you how to eat weird little creatures with shells and legs all over the place! There's probably some simple little trick to do it perfectly but we just hacked away with our knives and forks and hoped for the best. Tansley seemed to get the knack of it after a while and I pretended to as well…accidentally crunching away at the shells and smiling away like I knew what I was doing. The bits I managed to eat were tasty but I had to give up after a while. The actual risotto was the best I'd ever had though so it wasn't a complete disaster!

The next day it was pouring with rain so we had a lie-in before venturing out. Throughout the holiday we actually had really good luck with the weather. The rain seemed to stop every time we stepped outside. We toured the sights properly this time, taking longer so I could take far too many photos. There was a mean looking statue called Gregorius of Nin that was my favourite. For the life of me I can't remember what he was about…something to do with language possibly…Anyway, he had these amazing long gangly fingers and his big toe was a shiny gold from where everyone rubs it for good luck.

We also went up the belltower of the Cathedral of St Domnius. In theory I'm not afraid of heights…but walking up a wobbly metal staircase with open sides wasn't exactly pleasurable. Luckily the bells didn't ring as we went past them because I'm sure my automatic reaction would either have been to jump out of the tower or sit on the stairs and never move again. The view of the city was amazing though and the sun came out just as we reached the top. That was the beginning of the real holiday.

"a book worth reading is worth buying" - John Ruskin (1819 - 1900)

"…but a book for free is even better." - Alice Reese (1986 - at least 2086)

The highlight of my working life (and some might say my whole life) was the 'pulp shelf' when I was working as a Jacket Design Assistant at 80 Strand.

Dorling Kindersley is a part of Penguin Group….obviously including Penguin and all of its divisions; Puffin, Beatrix Potter, Ladybird, Rough Guides…etc etc etc. They all live in one big building on the Strand (£220 to buy in Monopoly)

Tucked away on the 7th floor is a magical bookshelf of books that aren't needed any more. Some are in foreign languages, some have old covers, some have a printing or spelling mistake and some just seem to be there for no reason at all. Working there I was allowed to take two of these books home a day and I made sure to go every single day.

2 books a day for 6 months (minus 12 days holiday) = about 240 books…

Looking at that number even surprises me so I've probably gotten my maths wrong…But the general idea is I now have a lot more books!

I'm a sucker for sets of books with matching designs as you can see. It's led to an obsession with rearranging them. I only have so much space on my shelves so every time I find a new book that matches others I have to change my whole system. (All non-matching books have their own separate rainbow coloured coded system obviously)...Extremely sad but extremely enjoyable. Bookshelf Tetris!

I just need to read them all now...

suitcases, suitcases everywhere and not a holiday to go on

eBay is very dangerous, kids. It's like when my boyfriend goes out to buy milk and comes back with milk and beer and out-of-date sandwiches and buy-one-get-one-free biscuits.

Suddenly thanks to my cross-stitch fever and an over-generous Nan I had a load of sewing materials to store somewhere in my room so I decided to buy a sewing box. A sensible idea!…

A nice sewing box does not exist in this world.

Not everyone who sews has bad taste, a liking for floral patterns or is blind (yes, be quiet. I am blind. But only half so it doesn't count!)

My clever solution was to buy a small vintage suitcase from eBay to keep my things in. I already had a few on the top of my wardrobe with other random junk in so it'd fit in well.

However, my tightfisted ways meant I couldn't see the logic in buying one small vintage suitcase for around £30………when I could get 5 of varying sizes for £50! Hideous padded floral box or a large quantity of vintage amazingness? The choice was made when I accidentally on purpose made sure I won the cases by the old 'adding-one-penny-to-a-sensible-maximum-bid' trick. Ha.

It was only slightly mortifying when the man from the postroom had to bring them all to my desk at work in a massive package about a week later. Hmm.

Never mind. I got them home by taking them one by one on the tube in rush hour with the satisfaction they were definitely better than the suitcases dragged along by all the tourists. I can't imagine people in 60 years time having M&S wheelie suitcases on display in their bedrooms…But what do I know? People think it's cool to wear 80's clothes…

xoxox

One day when I was trying to make my leaky Greenwich flat more homely I bought some cheap but nice picture frames to put photos in. Having spent ages trying to decide exactly which photos I was going to put in them (and failing) and then discovering I didn't have any ink in my printer to print them anyhow I abandoned them.

When I finally sorted out my room in the Kilburn flat I found them again and put them up on the wall. The plan was that I would be forced to fill the still-empty frames because who hangs empty ones?

Me, it seems.

I still couldn't choose the pictures to put in them. Photos of myself were self-loving, photos of my family would embarrass them, photos of landscapes were OK but didn't really match the colour of the room, pictures of my cats made me look like a cat-lady…I think about these things too much.

For at least 6 months they were empty on the wall while I tried to figure out this extremely serious problem. Then I had one of my occasional spurts of energy and decided I'd make a cross-stitch for each one. They'd be old-fashioned but modern at the same time and the colours would match the room and they'd be something no-one else had! They would be the answer to the question I had spent months* thinking about.

Obviously I spent another lifetime deciding on and then designing the cross stitch patterns I'd use but to cut a long story short, here they are! Three out of the four frames are now filled…I like to think of the empty one as a tribute to the good old days when they were nothing more than an idea**

*about 30 seconds every week over multiple months…

** not a sign of having become disinterested in cross stitch again.