Friday fashion fix!

This ones for the mums!

I popped into TopShop this week. And what a treat. Recently my visits to the high street super store have been a tad disappointing as I have come face to face with the ghosts of my past - leary baggy t shirts, graphic print leggings, tube dresses and pixie boots. Jeez, I looked iffy the first time round, and I was young and frisky, imagine what the 80's garb would look like on me now? Shudder, shudder, shudder.

No, this weeks visit was like walking into a country meadow. Pastal, mouthwatering shades of clotted cream, forget-me-not lilac, cornflower blue, sun-ray yellow and pistachio green. And the fabrics - ditsy florals, nautical stripes, antique lace, crochet and crisp cotton. Within twenty minutes I had whipped up an arm full of delights just screaming for spring time sunshine.

Here's my pick of the bunch:







all pictures by TopShop

I couldn't sign off without a little peak into Little Miss P's wardrobe. This week we bought her first pair of 'proper' shoes. I have posted recently about her soft red shoes, but these have buckles and a sturdy sole, ready to pound the pavements.

We went to Russell and Bromley. Fearing it would be eye-rollingly expensive, we were pleasantly surprised that they stock all the key brands like Clarks and Startrite. The service we got was brilliant. Our fitter knew exactly what he was doing feeling Little Miss P's feet and watching her strut up and down the shop floor (although stomping would be a more accurate description as she looked, head tilted, at her new rigid feet). We felt in very capable hands. Being an old fashioned girl at heart with a penchant for the quirky, we chose these Startrite beauties. Cute.

Hey, Miss P, how are things with you?

I thought it high time I did an update on Little Miss P. Yesturday she turned a whole 14 months. I have said it before and I will say it again - where the dickens did the time go?

- When I say "Noooooo" (which, to be honest seems to be every other minute at the moment), she turns to me and wags her finger. Tell me, dear readers, how do you keep a straight face?

- She loves shoes. Really loves shoes. When I place a pair on her little size 3 feet, she squeals with delight and proceeds to stamp round the room before giving her feet a little stroke of approval. 'Tis in the genes!

- She is as clumsy as her mother. Oh dear. Yesturday, whilst she watched me type, she walked 'smack' into the wall. Ouch!

- Cushions are her favourite toy. She loves nothing better that to fling herself on pillows, duvets, cushions and sofas, rolling and bouncing her body like a rag doll.

- She is off blueberries, but very much into runner beans.

- A cut up piece of sheet, with a ribbon stitched around the edge, with the name 'yogi' appears to be the only thing that will comfort her when she is blue. Go figure?

- Dancing makes her smile. She throws her head back in a yoga position along with the Piplins and rocks from side to side and then round and round in time with Ickle Pickle.

- she is proving to be an asset in the kitchen as she likes nothing better than wiping the cupboards and sweeping the floor. She will not, however, go near the hoover.

- Her continual obsession with the DVD shelf shows no sign of waning. In fact it has extended to her now crossing the room to the DVD player itself, switching it on, and staring at the blank TV screen.

- Her favourite face is the 'fish face'. Cheeks sucked in, lips move up and down. Funny girl.

- Her smile lights up the room, her laugh fills me with joy and her hugs melt my heart.

Mum's made moussaka!

As the title of my blog suggests, I am not adept at the domestic side of things. In fact, I will hold my head up high and admit I am a bit of a disaster, especially in the kitchen. I was brought up by a mum who was a cooking whiz. From her heavenly Sunday roasts, to catering for my wedding, to turning her hand to Hungarian cooking to satisfy my dads home sickness, there is nothing she cannot cook. Such culinary genes, unfortunately, have not rubbed off on me.

I find following a recipe impossible. I tend to skim read, missing out essential chunks of information. I can happily read a cookery book cover to cover savoring every mouth watering picture. As for TV food shows, I am glued to the screen. But when I enter the kitchen, its never a pretty site.

Well, whisk me an egg and call me Raymond Blanc, last night I cooked a corker! A moussaka, which is no easy task. In fact it was a bit of a faff, but I enjoyed myself, and boy did I enjoy my dinner. And so did my harshest critic, Mr Scruff. He said it was better than my mums...praise indeed, praise indeed!

I took my mums recipe and added my own little touches. Here's what i did:

one onion, chopped
one large garlic clove, chopped
one large packet of lamb mince
half a pint of stock - I used beef stock as it's all I had.
A tin of whole tomatoes
two aubergines
a courgette
a good saucepan full of potatoes (I did about a dozen but we are piggies)
A handful of parsley
A sprig of rosemary
A tub of Creme fraiche
A handful of grated cheddar cheese
A packet of mozorella

- soften the onion and garlic in some olive oil. Add the lamb mince and brown off so it is all cooked. Season well.

- Add enough stock so the meat is just peeping over the top. Bring to the boil and then turn down to a simmer. Add a squirt of tomato puree and the tin of tomatoes (I drained a bit of the liquid off first so the sauce wasn't too wet. You can always add a bit later if if feels too dry). Add the chopped parsley. Leave to simmer, lid off to thicken, stirring occasionally.

- peel and half the spuds and then boil. Drain, and when they have steamed dried for a few minutes, slice them up into rings and saute in a frying pan so they are just turning golden. Put to one side on a sheet of kitchen paper to absorb a bit of the oil.

- slice the aubergines and courgette into 5mm thickness rings. (Now, if you want to be a pro, you could place the aubergine slices in a colander and then sprinkle with salt. Leave for half an hour to draw out the moisture. Rinse away the salt and dry. If you don't do this you may get slightly soggy slices, but hey ho). Place the aubergine and courgette slices on a baking tray and brush with olive oil. Bake in the oven for twenty minutes or until roasted.

- make your white sauce. I do a Jamie Oliver cheats version. Simply empty a tub of creme fraiche in a jug, add some grated cheddar cheese and black pepper and then mix, add a bit of milk to loosen. (Jamie adds anchovies but I didn't). That's it!

- Line the bottom of an earthen wear dish with a layer of the potato rings. Follow with a layer of meat sauce. Top with a layer of the aubergine and courgette and then top with some white sauce. I had enough to do two layers of each. On the top, add slices of mozorella and a few sprinkles of rosemary. Bake in the oven (gas mark 7) for about 40 minutes, or until golden on top and bubbling through.

- serve with a green salad and a hearty appetite.

Friday fashion fix!

Our house has no carpets, curtains and a very temperamental heating system. It's bloody freezing. A dressing gown and slippers to keep Little Miss P snug has been this weeks shopping mission.

Starting at her feet, the lovely peeps at Moccis have sent me these hilarious bee slipper socks. I must point out that I am obsessed with bees and even have a pair of bee socks myself (should I really have admitted that?)

I have seen Moccis in the trendy kids boutiques in Notting Hill, Crouch End and Muswell Hill. As with most of the stock, I have admired the fun and funky designs but have been reluctant to part with the £18 asked. Instead I purchased a pair of 'fakes'- a Hello Kitty pair, £7.99 from H&M. They are cute but a bugger to keep on. Little Miss P walks on the sock part rather than the leather sole, and the sweatshirt fabric snags so they looked well worn after one wear.

Will the real macoy fair any better?

Well, yes. My bargain-hungry nature hates to admit it but when it comes to moccasin socks, you get what you pay for.

For starters - the brilliant designs. little Miss P stamps her feet and squeals with delight when I put them on. They fit her feet well too. The leather acting like a shoe encasing her soles so they are supported and stay put through all of Miss P's running around. The quality of the fabric is strong and there's no hint of snagging after a rigorous days play - they'll be great for a day at the childminders or when she is buzzing around the soft playground (d'ya see what i did there!). I'm sold, and have even been on their website to check out their other designs!

Dressing gowns! Did you know it's a mini robe mine field out there?

First stop, Mothercare. The 12months-3years girls section has this number.

Nice, teddy bear soft, but no hood. It must have a hood. (A quick browse in the boys department, uncovered the same style but in blue...BUT with a hood. Why?).

In the 0-18months section, there is this in velour

It's not as soft and snuggly but a nice shade of pink, and 'Hello hood!'
Here's the sticking point - said hood barely reaches Little Miss P's crown. "you are not a hood, you are barely a collar".

Next stop Notting Hill (get me, yummy mummy), where I stumbled upon Their Nibs kids shop. The designs are made from vintage prints - fairies and toadstools for the girls and cowboys and pirates for the boys. On the sale rail (hurrah!) I spot this beaut.

Good strong soft cotton fabric with a towelling, easy dry lining. Hark! £30 down to £15. Mmmm, size M (that's 3-4 years). I buy it anyway...I say if you see a bargain in a big size, BUY IT. It'll fit them one day!

So finally to M&S. I am overwhelmed with the choice. I buy this...£8. It comes in 3 different colours and feels super soft. Little Miss P is over the moon.

And no, there is no hood. I have given up on hoods...she would never keep it on anyway.

It's lonely being a mum

I was going to post a review on some nappy creams I have been trying out, but that can wait, because I have stumbled across a touching post by Young and Younger, which, in turn, was inspired by a story written by A Modern Mother. In a nutshell both touched on the subject of loneliness and childhood isolation. Not only did it make my heart thump for the little boy they talk about, but it made me think about my own feelings, something I struggle with.

I have found being a new mum one of the loneliest experiences of my life. To be fair, I am a bit of a homebody. And so is Mr Scruff, which does, I admit, make it easy for us to hole ourselves up in our own little world. Coincidentally we had a conversation last night and I was telling him about a couple we know and how much socialising and holidaying they do despite having a baby. We agreed that we don't socialise very much because our lives have moved on with our circumstances. The conversation ended with a subdued silence. Part of me, and maybe him, felt sad.

Pre-baby you could show me to the dance floor and I would hit it harder than anyone else (well, I like to think). I enjoyed having friends in different places, giving me the freedom to cherry pick my social life, never committing to one group or another. I feared allowing anyone too close would reveal my insecurities and so shyness and lack of confidence did hold me back. I relied on good friends, tending to wait for them to hold out their hand and lead the way. I am far from needy, but I am vary of the company of strangers - what to say, how to be, those pesky feelings of insecurity getting the better of me. In the industry I work in confidence is rife, yet the further I seemed to travel up the career ladder, the more my social confidence dropped.

When Little Miss P was very small, I befriended my ante-natal class group. They were (and still are) great. However our friendship was instigated by them. Left to me, I would never have got in contact post classes, so I am grateful for their highly organised, persistent and friendly manner. We met every week for tea, cake, tears and baby talk. They were my rock and I am confident that some of the mum chums will remain long term friends. But as the months have passed, slowly we have drifted back to work and tended to other commitments and the feelings of isolation have crept in.

You see my return to work has found me in no-mans land. I am no longer part of the daytime tea brigade. My day off is spent catching up on all my household chores and commitments to Little Miss P. Yet I am not part of the after work club either. I need to be out the office and home for bottle and bedtime. My weekends are dedicated to Mr Scruff - our family time. I worry that the hands that I have held in the past will let go, skip off in the distance and leave me behind.

Did a bit of me stay in the delivery room? I know I have gained so much more and I relish every second I spend with my little girl and in my heart I know home is where I belong. But I wonder if I will be able to seize these nagging feelings of isolation, gather the self consciousness and toss it to one side, have confidence in myself and instill this in my little girl, find my feet in my world and smile that this is exactly where I want to be.

Friday Fashion Fix! Floral Jumpsuits

Working on a magazine I get to spy the rails of new season trends arriving months before they hit the shops...talk about forward planning shopping! But my fashion fix comes from the fashion team themselves. They wear what we wouldn't dare. I nod with approval, but there are occasions when I cast a more curious, nay, confused eye over their outfit choices.

The floral jump suit is one such outfit in question. I do get it. Sort of. If you are under 25, I can see you shimmying down Brick lane or Carnaby Street with your flip flops or wooden block heels, floral 'play suit', a few randomly thrown on strands of beads and hair haphazardly tied in a coquettish bun. And you too, you tall leggy creature looking demure with your 'jump suit' nipped in at the waist with a wide leather belt, towering heels and tousled blow dry. Channeling Studio 54? I like it.

Moschino Cheap and Chic S/S2010 (picture by Anthea Simms)

Floral Jumpsuit, £45 ASOS

jump suit, £45 by Miss Selfridge

As for me. Well, I would look like I'd veered into art teacher territory. Or the Tomliboo house.

I am not ready to discard the idea of a 'romper suit' yet. For the little one in my life what could be more playful, more fun, more easy to wear.

Suddenly the most confusing of trends makes absolutely perfect sense.

This is my favouite but cannot download picture so click to view...http://www.next.co.uk/shopping/girls/youngergirls/6/8

Gap

£16 by monsoon

£12.50 Gap

A small tribute to Alexander McQueen
As a young aspiring beauty writer I would be sent off to report on the catwalk shows - what a dream come true. Paris was always special, not least because it meant the Alexander McQueen show. It was the hottest ticket in town. I would go backstage, nervous with excitement and yes, very intimidated. The atmosphere at his shows were unique. At times you could cut the air with a knife, tensions ran high, the creativity turned up to full pelt. But his shows were unique. They were not about models parading clothes - it was theater. Something extra-ordinary. One season, it was held at a Parisian circus. An orchestra playing on the 'stage'. The models walking out in elaborate dresses made from real flowers, leaving petals in their wake. Another, a highland fling, where stags and pheasants adorned the girls heads, Kate Moss emerging as a hologram disappearing into a star in the night sky as a finale. Wild animals, dark gothic witches, fabrics so sumptuous they were fit for a coronation. His shows left you breathless, speechless, aghast at the creativity pouring onto the stage. Fashion has lost a bolt of genius.





catwalk pictures by Anthea Simms and Style.com

These are a few of my favourite things

This week could be going better.

Firstly our weekend plans have been scuppered. "Would anyone like to review a spa this weekend," asked my travel ed. Er, Hell-oooo-ooooo! My hand shot up. "Meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Excitedly we booked my babysitter (my mum) and I whipped across to Next to buy a swimming costume (my collection of itsy bitsy pre baby bikinis will never see the light of day again). What a lovely way to spend Valentines. Yes. Except a sheepish looking travel ed announced yesturday that there had been 'crossed wires' and the spa had got the booking wrong. Humpf.

On the way home I showed off my lack of ice skating skills and did a spectacular slip. Well that will teach me to wear slippy soled shoes to school! Thankfully my ample bottom cushioned the fall and all that was damaged was my pride.

Today I had an 8.30am breakfast meeting in town. And on my day off. So up with the larks was I and blurry eyed I staggered to the tube. (note to self: be thankful you don't work this early everyday - jeez, such crowds). I have a sensitive disposition and blood pressure that needs constant top ups of sugar. This morning, there was no time for fuel. Pah, silly move Mummy Bear. By Kentish Town I could feel the blood draining from my cheeks, my eyes glazing over as they stared at the floor, craving to let gravity take hold. And, well, gravity did take over and like a sack of potatoes, down I went. My first thought was God please don't press the emergency button or we'll be stuck here for ever, just someone help me up and give me a seat. I don't think I said this out loud, but maybe I did, as this is how my fellow passengers decided to deal with the little drama I had created.

Anyway, a good dousing of pink blush in the loos disguised my insipid blood-drained complexion and my meeting over a bowl of porridge and a milky hot chocolate went well.

So now I am back in the comfort of my little nest. Little Miss P is sound asleep in the pram and I have decided that to cheer myself up and make the most of the love hearts on display in every shop window, I will list the things I love.

- Little Miss P standing in her cot when I come in her room in the morning. Her smile is infectious. Her little arms reach out to me, her hands give a wave and my heart melts.

- A very strong hot chocolate - not too sweet - made with organic milk and served with a slice of cake. Spongy and moist and nothing with cream. Carrot perhaps, or orange and almond, or plum and cherry tart.

- Cheese melted on granary toast with a sprinkling of salt and cracked black pepper. Oh and a few drops of worchester sauce to spice it up.

- A Bloody Mary in a pub after a long walk on a cold but crisp Sunday morning.

- Breakfast out. Eggs florentine, a berry smoothie and a round of toast and marmalade. All cooked, served and cleared away by someone else. A rare but delicious treat.

- Red shoes. Or to top trump, red-soled shoes.

- The Wizard of Oz

- Vintage tea sets, crisp white embroiderie anglais, antique lace, bows, ribbons, buttons, stripes, bees, polka dots and butterflies

- a sweep of black liquid liner along my upper lashes. No bumps, no wobbles and finished with the perfect winged flick.

- A vase of tulips, splaying any which way they please.

- A swim in the sea.

- making something special out of nothing. Sewing new buttons on a cardigan, some blinds from an ebay bought tablecloth.

I could go on, and on, and on, but perhaps I will save some more for another day when the corners of my lips need a lift.

Settling in...

Yesturday we had a break through.

Little Miss P, finally had a blast at the childminders. She was the life and soul, playing, eating, dancing. No tears, no sulking, no distress.

"She even did a poo," cried my very relieved childminder. Prove if ever that one feels right at home.

Sunday morning at the Farmers Market

Things are looking up in the Scruff household.

Last night, however, was a very different tale. Mr Scruff and I decided to treat ourselves to a DVD and settled down to enjoy. Cue wake up Little Miss P screaming her little lungs dry.

She has been very poorly of late (read my last post for the gory details) so sympathy was required. However after the third time of picking her up, my patience wore thin. You see it was that old chestnut again. You know, when the kiddo screams, you go a running and when you pick them up, they are all smiles and happiness. Tut tut tut. She is a spirited soul and her determination ardent. So in the end I did what I swore I would never do. I scooped her up and brought her downstairs. Despite the fact she did let me watch the end of the DVD, trying to get her to sleep in her cot proved a mighty challenge leaving me bloodshot and weary.

But on a cheery note, we have all woken a little better. Mr Scruff was feeling so full of beans he has cycled off, no doubt to some country pub a billion miles away, not to be seen again until roast chicken hour this afternoon. So as a treat Little Miss P and I decided to head to the Alexander Palace Farmers Market.

Despite living within walking distance to the market, I have only ever been once before. Now we have moved it is a short drive, but well worth it. There were about 30 stalls set up, good going considering the threat of rain is in the air. There were the usual seasonal vegetables, game, meat, homemade cakes, pastries, spit roast and coffee counter.

The liveliest stall was the Giggly Pig, a pig farm from Romford in Essex. They were handing out sausage samples, which drew in a large crowd, and their three frisky dogs, aptly named Sausage, Mash and Gravy were causing chaos. Never ones to miss out, Little Miss P and I caused a hullabaloo. I gave Little Miss P a little piece of sausage to try. Mmmmmm, her eyes lit up, until it got caught in her throat. Lots of dramatic coughing ensued, I quickly lifted her out the pram and gave her a good pat on the back and there it came, projectile vomit over Mummy Bear. Is it any wonder we don't live in Crouch End or Muswell Hill!

Once cleaned up we continued with our stroll. I fell in love with a stall called Wild Things. The chap hand carves wooden animal figurines. He had families of ducks, frogs, chickens but what caught my eye were the pigs. Bingo, the perfect Valentines present for Mr Scruff (Scruff, if you are reading this, do act surprised). I chose a little fat pig called Kevin. He will live amongst our soon to be dug veggie patch.

On we went to the cake stall. I bought a delicious looking bread and butter pudding for our dessert today and a chocolate brownie to munch with my hot chocolate.

The atmosphere was lovely and I will return on a sunnier day, as I expect the crowd will be bigger and stalls more plentiful. What a lovely way to while away a Sunday morning.

Atchoo, someone pass us the tissues!

There is a black cloud hanging over the Scruff household. You see we have had a visit from Mr Flu and he seems intent on outstaying his welcome.

He knocked on my door first, and being the sociable soul that I am, I welcomed him in with open arms, thinking he was merely a silly cold that would soon wash away. Pah! I was holed up in bed unable to move my head thanks to the force ten migraine that had taken residence. Three weeks on, I am still accompanied by a pile of tissues, trying to clear my sinuses. I have even concluded that this is it, forever will I be popping my ear and blowing my nose.

Mr Scruff is nursing man flu. Now I am not being unsympathetic as I am sure he is feeling stuffy, but his main complaint is a sprained wrist. An injury he picked up after falling off his bike. I shudder when I think of him riding on busy London roads, but there is no way he could have even contemplated cycling had flu partied on his parade. So now he drags his heels around the house, arm raised in a sling, other hand clutching a hankie.

But it is Little Miss P that is the cause of concern. It has been a week now that she has not been on form. It started with gunky eyes. Beads of yellow coming from her tear dunks that caused her little eyes to stick together. Via a runny nose she now has a chesty cough that is so upsetting to listen too, I winch at every sound. I have not slept for four nights as I want to hear her every breath as she sleeps. Yet despite her obvious discomfort, she remains chipper. Determined that nothing will come between her and the fun she has doing her little dance to the CBeebies seasonal tune. (I'd like to take a leaf out of her resilience!)

When Little Miss P is poorly, the magnitude of our responsibility hits home. I keep everything crossed that she gets better soon and I am thinking today she does seem less stuffy (she has been 'talking' to the washing machine for the past hour as well as emptying the saucepan cupboard - always a good sign). We will do all we can to be her comfort and be here for cuddles, calpol, oranges and as much love as we can muster.

Friday fashion fix! Shoes!

Up until now, Little Miss P's footwear wardrobe has consisted of a pair of moccasin style socks which look cute but they are a bugger to keep on. A beautiful pair of leather slippers called 'secret garden' (I love that they have a name) by No Added Sugar, bought by a friend. They are white and embroidered in flowers, ladybirds and bees. And finally a pair of sheepskin booties by the Celtic Sheepskin Company, which are as soft as butter. (Although I did have to pierce an extra hole so the laces tied tighter to keep them on) - like an extra layer of fluffy skin around her feet.



But Little Miss P has been up on her feet for a few weeks, so it's high time she had some proper shoes.

We popped into Clarks and had her feet measured but every single pair of shoes were pink. We don't want pink. We even looked at the boys styles. Mmmm. So off we trotted up the road to this tiny Japanese shop. It was full of quirky kids shoes, all for £10 a pop. And look what we bought!

The leather is incredibly soft and the sole has great grip but better than that, Little Miss P can't stop looking at her feet with a big smile on her face. I mean, what girl wouldn't love new red shoes.

On a shoe tip, I have been in heated discussions in the office regarding the hot 'ugly' shoe for Spring - the clog. I am all for them - very seventies - my favourite era for style spying. I'm thinking big brimmed straw hat, flowery blouse and a pair of rolled up loose fit jeans. Oh, and a basket of freshly picked flowers and a Flake chocolate bar. Snap back to reality - how easy they will be to walk in is still up for debate, but my eyes are already peeled for the perfect pair.

Lottie clog mules, £65 Top Shop

Slip in superhigh, £135 by Swedish Hasbeens at Urban Outfitters

Chanel S/S 2010 photo by Anthea Simms

Fever Pitch. A childhood memory

Thanks to Trish over at Mum has gone to.... for tagging me on a meme titled 'Childhood Memories.'

My brother and I were born and raised in North London. We come from a long line of Arsenal supporters so as children it was a given that we would join the Junior Gunners. My father is not from the UK, so naturally he supports Manchester United. When they were playing each other at Highbury, the three of us went along to watch the match. My first game.

It was a cold gray day, there was no rain but the air was wet. We walked from Arsenal tube through the streets of Highbury, which were lined with stalls selling scarfs, mugs, figurines of the players, programs, calenders and other paraphernalia to entice to avid fans to part with some beer money.

The smell of sizzling onions, burgers and hot dogs engulfed my senses. I followed the sea of red shirts, skipping over the lines of police horse poo that marked our path. Some voices were singing, but mostly it was silent pilgrimage towards the Mothership - Highbury Stadium.

I rotated the metal bar at the turnstile and stepped into another world. The bright green pitch was huge, the crowd loud. I looked up to the North Terrace and watched the rows of police stand to attention on either side. The tightly packed crowd of men chanting in unison, arms pointing back and forth into the air in time. Strangers bonded over a common purpose - to taunt, support, commiserate, cheer and jeer.

The sound of the whistle was piercing in my ears. The crowds shouts were a deafening loudness. The players looked well, life size. I was mesmerized. I didn't know which way to turn as the colours flashed fast before my eyes. People focused, shouting, screaming, emotions in sync.

Traveling home we relived every moment, every pass, every strike, every foul. Excitedly we chose our favourite players, our man of the match.

As we walked through our front door the smell of my mums Sunday roast wafted about us and instantly warmed our chilled little bodies.

"Did you enjoy the game," she asked dishing up the roast spuds.

"Oh yes mum," I said spinning around the room and singing at the top of my voice, "The referee's a wanker, the referee's a wanker..."

I don't remember the score. I don't even remember who won. But I went to bed that night with the colours whirling in my head, the sound of whistles and cheers ringing in my ears, and the taste of soap in my mouth.....

A story of friendship and motherhood

My beautiful friend vagabondiana, found this lovely story and published it on her blog, just after she gave birth to her little girl. The poem is about the friendship shared by two new mums. She dedicated the post to me, as we too are new mums together. I was touched, utterly so. I wanted to share the words to hopefully bring a smile to your face.

This is a story by LULA magazine's Sarah Sophie Flicker for her friend the model Karen Elson,
but I'd like to dedicate it to my own fairy friend Trixie...

Once we were new and careless and free
we two fairies collided, as alike as could be
Of fast friends we were and fast friends we stay, this fiery ginger who wanted to play

She said to me "Come, come and sing from the trees" So I followed of course, who wouldn't you see? She said to me, "Yes! I see what you see!" And then pushed me on stage, tho I was weak in the knees

And we sang and we danced and we skipped through the light
And we swang from the rafters and glittered in flight
Then she said to me "Now, now it's time to create"
So we grew and we blossomed and our bellies got tight.

I was scared as could be, I won't lie about that
But as always, she gently forced me to sit pat.
And now we are mommas, who could imagine such a thing?
Now we sing and we dance with babies on our wings

And I wouldn't have, couldn't have, shouldn't have dared
If not for this red head, who muttered
"Come on now! Don't you be scared!"
Who thinks and who plays and who feels just like me.
Who set us on course to live, love and be free!