Friday Fancy - David Bowie - Life On Mars

By some strange quirk of fate, I never did end up marrying David Bowie, which is a bit of a shame really, as he was my first love.

My friend Charlotte and I would spend many happy hours singing 'The Laughing Gnome' at the top of our lungs, which I think is, in fact, the best way to prove your undying devotion to someone.

Anyway, One of the things I love about the delectable Mr. B is his ability to aks some of life's deeper questions through the medium of popular music.

This song tackles the question that we all want answered; "Is there life on Mars?"

Have a tremendously happy Friday everyone!

Tweedy Love.

Ashleigh xx

Bride Comes Before a Fall

Well this is a distasteful little story isn't it? For those of you who haven't heard, here is a linky to the sordid little story of Kirsty Lane, who stole £200,000 from her employers to fund her lavish wedding.

Although theft is theft in my book, I can't help finding the idea of jeopardising the livelihood of her employers and colleagues, to fund what amounts to a big party, particularly disgusting.

Now obviously, I am not privy to the innermost workings of this woman's mind, but I can guess that she felt that there was a whole lot riding on this wedding reception. So much, in fact, that she was prepared to compromise not only her morality, but potentially her freedom as well, in order to finance it.

If she had bought a house, or stashed it all away to pay for her daughter's education, I could have understood. Not condoned, but understood. But to blow it all on fireworks, magicians and a face painter (seriously, a facepainter for chrissakes! If you are going to be a thief, at least have the decency to be a classy one!), basically a load of stuff that will last for one day, and then be all done and forgotten, makes me want to scream.

But I guess this is the latest thing now (I don't really know, I'm just old). From what I see on the tellybox, it seems to be apparent that the whole wedding shenanigans is in fact, more important than the actual marriage malarkey.

I have caught the odd glimpse of programmes like 'Bridezillas' and 'My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding', and soon enough to realise that in some cases at least, it would literally be safer to be stuck in a small room with a hungry leopard, than being anywhere near some of these scary women, made even scarier by being whipped up into a wedding frenzy.

But the men, Oh my lord the men! So bereft of even the vaguest memory of their long since removed testicles, that all they seem to be able to do, is look on like a rabbit stuck in the headlights of a car, as their brides to be create havoc all around them. The husband of the lady in question has been aquitted of any wrong doing. This I find incredible. Presumably he must have had a vague idea of how much she was earning. How the hell could he not have been suspicious of the amount that she was spending on the festivities? He is either a liar, or terminally stupid.

But genuinely, when these men witness the ruthless rudeness, general unpleasantness, and downright dishonesty of some of these women, what makes them think it would be a good idea to get hitched to them for the rest of their lives? I simply don't understand. Do they really think that all this revolting behaviour is simply going to disappear after the wedding reception has finished? Yeah, good luck with that.

Not Ascot, Not Anywhere!

Every year this happens. People who are either illiterate, stupid, or under the erroneous impression that they are being witty and original, are suddenly tempted to don ludicrous outfits in the Royal enclosure at Ascot.

Now before anyone goes on about sour grapes, no I was not there, and no I am not bitter about it. I find horse racing distasteful, almost, in fact as distasteful as some of the outfits that I am about to highlight.

Also, before anyone starts mumbling about dress codes and elitism etc., I feel that I should point out that dress codes are there to be helpful. They are not written as some kind of judgemental Draconian code (that's my self-appointed job), they are there to ensure that people know what to wear and are thus spared the discomfort of being embarassed upon arrival, and having to either miss their day out, or change their outfit.

In fact the dress code is barely more than common sense;


Ladies
Ladies are kindly reminded that formal day wear is a requirement in the Royal Enclosure, defined as follows:
•Dresses and skirts should be of modest length defined as falling just above the knee or longer
•Dresses and tops should have straps of one inch or greater
• Jackets and pashminas may be worn but dresses and tops underneath should still comply with the Royal Enclosure dress code
•Trouser suits are welcome. They should be of full length and of matching material and colour
•Hats should be worn; a headpiece which has a base of 4 inches (10cm) or more in diameter is acceptable as an alternative to a hat.

Ladies are kindly asked to note the following:
•Strapless, off the shoulder, halter neck, spaghetti straps and dresses with a strap of less than one inch (2.5cm) are not permitted
•Midriffs must be covered
• Fascinators are no longer permitted in the Royal Enclosure; neither are headpieces which do not have a base covering a sufficient area of the head (4 inches / 10cm).


And who on earth could argue the dress code with such an elegantly attired lady, handing out pashminas?



So it baffles me when women think it is appropriate to turn up looking like this;


This young lady has clearly missed the point of 'underwear'. The clue is in the name my lovely.

But its not just 'smalls' that make the occasional appearance. Some women seem to be completely unaware of the geographical location of their knees;


Another helpful rule; If the horses have more attractive legs than yours, it's best to keep yours covered.

I do despair about the fact that so many women have not yet learned that it is much better to aim to be 'stylish', 'attractive', or, if you are young enough to still manage it, 'pretty'. A la Amanda Holden, who manages to accomplish all three, in this well thought out ensemble.



As far as I can see, a racecourse, or in fact any public place, at least during daylight hours, is not the place to be 'sexy' (and I use that term in it's loosest possible sense). Shame no one told that to this lot, who seem to have turned up thinking that they were attending some kind of Smurf's fetish convention:


The point is, that if I had paid some money, to get into this prestigious (albeit highly exploitative) event, I would not want to be confronted with excess flesh, visible underwear, or squeaky, sweaty rubber. I tend to get offended enough when I see it out and about in the supermarket, and I can get that any day for free.

Blog Sale

So I have some stuff that needs to go, mainly because it doesn't fit me any more. So I thought I'd have a little blog sale.

All prices include P+P, unless you live abroad, in which case I will have to get a price via the post office.

I only accept payment via PayPal. All items are in good condition, only sell stuff that i would be happy to wear myself. No returns I'm afraid.

1. Oasis summer jersey dress, with tie back waist. Size:M Price £7.50



2. Rydale 'Hannah' Pleated skirt (I actually have two of these, the other is light green with a navy and pink stripe, it's being dry cleaned ATM). This one has never been worn and still has the tags attached. Size 12 Price £15



3. Genuine Ralph Lauren tweed trousers. Size 14 Beautiful condition. Price £25


4. Gap jersey type dress size M. Great on it's own or over trousers. Price £7.50


5. Fenn Wright Mason dress, size 12, Angora/Cashmere blend. Scoop neck with lovely ruffle detail. Price £15


6. Joules skirt size 12. Price: £12.50


7. Laura Ashley skirt size 14. Really gorgeous skirt. Price £17.50


8. Monsoon skirt size 12. Price £12.50


If you see anything you are interested in, get in touch either here, or on my facebook page.

Happy shopping!

My Friday Recipe - Chilli Prawn Linguine

Yes, I know it's Monday, and possibly a little early in the week to be thinking about Friday, but I have been meaning to share this recipe with you for ages, and if I don't do it now, then another week will go by and I still won't have done it.

I call it the Friday recipe, because this is what Mr. Tweedy and I eat every Friday, once the Tweedlings are in bed. It's quicker to make this than to get a takeaway, it's full of good, healthy things, and light on the tum. Yet it is sumptuous enough to feel like a real treat, particularly when accompanied by a lovely chilled bottle of white wine. Bliss!

Ingredients: (serves 2)

Approx 450g of Jumbo King Prawns (we used pre cooked ones, obviously if you are cooking raw prawns this might take a little longer)

2 shallots

1 tin of chopped tomatoes

1 medium red chilli

1 tbsp olive oil for cooking (we used the garlic infused stuff)

linguine ( as much as you feel necessary)

Method:

Heat the oil in a frying pan or wok. Chop your shallots and chilli, and add to the hot oil, after a minute of so (probably less, I'm rubbish at timings) add your thoroughly defrosted prawns, and cook through until nice and warm. Then add your tinned tomatoes.

Cook your linguine, drain and serve the whole lot in a steaming sumptuous pile of loveliness.

Eat.

You can substitute the chilli with Cayenne pepper for an equally delicious, but slightly 'warmer' sort of taste. I won't tell you how much to put in, I shall leave that to your discretion.

Enjoy!

Friday Fancy - Kate Bush - Wuthering Heights

Now I don't know about you, but if I was going to run off and have a torrid affair with a fictional character, Heathcliff would be fairly near the top of the list.

This one:



Not this one:



That's just one of the reasons I love this song so much.

Another very good reason is that it's the middle of June, it's freezing cold and persisting it down, and frankly the only thing I can think of to lift the gloom, is the sight of Kate Bush prancing about on the moors in a red dress!

So sit back, forget the rain, and listen to Kate Bush and her special brand of unusual, and just enjoy Wuthering Heights.

Big Tweedy Snogs

Ashleigh xx

Ten Tweedy Style Rules

After writing a few 'heavy' posts recently (apologies to all those who messaged me yesterday telling me that I had made them cry), I thought I'd do something a bit more frivolous. So today's blog post is ten style rules that I apply to me. That is the important bit to remember, these rules may not suit everyone, they are for me, but some of them may ring true for others as well. I actually have more than ten, but it is too early in the day to be sending people to sleep, so ten will do for now!

So here we go, as you read this, you may like to imagine me coming down from a mountain top, wearing robes, face shining with inspiration, a la Moses coming down from Sinai holding some stone tablets. Or not. Whatever helps.

1# Shoes and handbag must match, or at least complement each other in some way.
This is my golden rule. I can't physically leave the house without matching shoes and bag. I just can't.

2# Don't be afraid to buy second hand. I have expensive tastes, but at least half of my clothes, and about 90% of my shoe and handbag collections are second hand.

3# Don't be afraid to sell things on. If you have decided, for whatever reason, that an item of clothing, or an accessory is no longer for you, and if it is good condition, sell it on. There will always be someone, (probably me) who will be happy to give it a new home.

4# Don't buy cheaply made clothes. It really is a false economy. They don't look as good, and they certainly won't last very long. Conversely, just because something is 'designer' doesn't mean it isn't a load of old crap. I lusted for months after a pair of Vivienne Westwood shoes. I had almost decided to splash out, when I suddenly came to my senses, and realised that I was about to spend the best part of £100 on a pair of shoes that were made of scented plastic (I kid ye not). Yes, they were little more than outrageously expensive jelly shoes which would only contribute to my already alarming foot perspiration issues. With this epiphany, the love affair came to an abrupt end.

5# Raid your Mum's wardrobe, regularly. I do, (obviously my Mum's, not yours, that would be burglary). Even if you aren't the same size, she is bound to have some fabulous 'vintage' (sorry Mum) accessories worth 'borrowing'.

6# Don't try to be 'fashionable', instead, be 'stylish'. If you try to keep up with all the latest trends, you will be forever running, mostly out of money. Learn what suits you, and develop your own signature style. Of course this allows you to incorporate different fashion elements, but don't be a slave to them. I once bought a dress from a high street store because it was 'on trend'. Two days later it appeared on telly adorning a member of the cast of Eastenders, who happens to be about half my age. What made her look like a lithe, nubile young sylph, made me look like a blousy piece of middle aged mutton. It is now my 'gardening dress'.

7# Get acquainted with your shape. None of us are perfect. Learn to love your body shape, and do some research into what suits you best, Trinny and Susannah stylee.

8# Choose colours wisely. I love pale pastels, but they wash me out, and make my skin look grey. So, either pair the colour with another that will tone it down or brighten it up, or perhaps, slap on the fake tan.

9# Never underestimate the power of a pair of sunglasses. I used to have a lovely pair of Oakleys, which I pinched off my hubby. I wore them every single day, regardless of the weather or time of year, not to shade my eyes, but as a kind of uber-cool hair band. My friends used to refer to them as the 'hair control specs'. Eventually they disintegrated (I sat on them), and I have mourned their loss greatly. However, I recently bought a fashion magazine which came with a free pair of sunnies, which have proved to be the perfect replacement. I look like a complete tit with them perched on my nose, but when they are on my head, they make me look like I am, at any moment, about to board a millionaire's yacht, bound for Monaco. Well that's what happens in my head anyway.

10# Don't be afraid to enjoy your clothes, shoes, bags, make-up etc. There seems to be a lot of inverted snobbery among British women that says that if you appear to be enjoying the way you look a little bit too much, then you are automatically deemed to be a bit shallow and self obsessed. When I lived in Milan, I was struck by how stylish the Milanese women were, not necessarily because they wore expensive clothes, but because they clearly dressed themselves with care and took a quiet sense of pride in their appearance. Personally I see nothing wrong in that at all.

So there we go, ten of my personal style rules. I'd love to hear some of the style philosophies of my readers. It's good to share!

With Great Power Comes Great Helplessness

I alluded in my last post to the fact that last weekend had been a rather difficult one.

The reason for this is that we suffered what we consider to be a bit of a family tragedy, the loss of our beloved dog Tumble.

Tumble came to us, along with her sister Ruff, via an ex-colleague, who, for various reasons was no longer able to give them a home. We have been very blessed to have Ruff and Tumble as part of our family for the past seven or so years.

Unfortunately, last Friday, Tumble became very ill indeed, and was diagnosed with renal failure, for which there is no cure.

After a very frank conversation with the vet, we agreed that Tumble should be hospitalised overnight, and her situation reviewed the next day.

We visited Tumble at the surgery the next day, and saw that her condition had improved a little. However, we were aware that Tumble was never really going to get better, and that she had less than 5% of her kidney function left.

One look into the little dog's eyes told me that Tumble had had enough. I held her in my arms, and the vet put her to sleep.

We could have made a different decision. It is possible to manage kidney failure with medicine and a carefully managed diet. But personally, I believe that this would have been the wrong decision for Tumble. To take this course would have been more for our benefit than hers, and would simply have been delaying the inevitable.

When we decide to welcome an animal into our family, we take on an absolute responsibility for every aspect of their lives. Animals can not speak up for themselves. We control their environment completely. We have absolute power over every part of not only their lives, but potentially their deaths as well.

Most conscientious pet owners take the responsibilities that come with such great power very seriously, and do their best to provide a stable, nurturing, stimulating and healthy lifestyle for their pet.

Most pet owners also realise that the responsibility they have for providing a good life for their pet, also extends to providing a good death.

This, more often than not, at some point, will entail having to make a dreadful decision to have the animal put to sleep.

Part of what makes this decision so dreadful, is the absolute finality of it. I am positive I am not the first pet owner who feels daunted by making that final decision. I can also say that no matter how many times you have had to make it, it never gets any easier.

For it is at that moment, when you are faced with the power of life and death over another living creature, that you ultimately feel utterly powerless. Powerless in the face of death, powerless in the face of suffering, and powerless in the face of grief.

When we take an animal into our lives, we take on great power, and along with it, great responsibility. But lurking behind those two, deep in the shadows, is the great helplessness we feel in the face of their eventual and inevitable loss.

Spray That Again?

In spite of the fact that last weekend was one of the most horrendous I have had in a long time (more about that in another post), I decided to keep the appointment I had made to have a spray tan.

I am fair skinned and happen to tan quite well, but there are a few good reasons why I choose not to sunbed, or sunbathe in order to tan.

1# I have literally hundreds of moles all over my body. Apparently this is a sign of potential longevity. However, I imagine that if I took these bad boys out in the sun on a regular basis, they would be more likely to turn into a ticking timebomb. So I don't.

2# Years of bodding about in the sun with no sunblock has given me a very crepey looking neck and upper chest. In fact, it looks like I've pinched them off a woman 30 years my senior. This, coupled with with the fact that my second pregnancy has left me with a little bit of pigmentation on my upper lip, bearing more than a passing resemblance to a 'tache, making me look a little bit more like Poirot than I am comfortable with, makes me a little sun-shy. So I now smother my neck and face with factor 50, regardless of the weather.

3# Despite the fact that it is June, there is no sunshine.

So having purchased some very nice dresses for summer, I allowed myself to be persuaded by my husband (not something that happens often) that a tan would be the perfect accessory.

Having located a nice local salon, which is a task in itself when you live in the middle of nowhere, I popped along to have my patch test, and was given very strict instructions that I was to arrive with no make-up (eek!), no deoderant (ewwww!), and that I should be freshly waxed and exfoliated, and to wear loose clothing.

So this Saturday, complete with a pulsing migraine that was threatening to expel the eyeballs from my head, I found myself in the surreal situation of standing starkers, apart from a thong, having my 'tricky bits' lightly moisturised by a complete stranger, while discussing the weather.

After all the joints were oiled, so to speak, I was placed in front of an industrial extractor fan, with paper flippers stuck to my feet, and sprayed from top to toe in the manner of a decayed fence in need of a heavy coat of creosote.

Now I have a theory that they put some kind of mind altering drug in spray tan. Despite having a total fear of turning orange, when I was invited to admire the result in the mirror, the first though that actually entered my head was 'I could have gone darker'.

That was until the salon owner, with a deft flick of the wrist, and totally without warning, pulled down the top of my thong and revealed the now two-tone Tweedy. The very small part of me that had remained hidden from the tan was a colour that could only be described as 'thing that had been left in the water too long', the greater portion was a much more attractive 'rich tea biscuit'.

Now came the tricky bit, not touching water for at least eight hours while the tan developed. Fortunately I had made an evening appointment, which meant that hubby had to put the Tweedlings to bed, cook the dinner, do late stables, sort the dog out, and do Tiny Tweedling's bottle, while all I had to do was sip wine, eat my tea, and (much to my disgust) go to bed without having a wash.

There's no denying it, the next morning I looked like an Oompa Loompa freshly returned from two weeks in the Caribbean. I popped down to the stables to let the horses out before having my shower, and both of them did a double take. No one is quite sure whether or not horses can see in colour, but I'm now fairly sure that they can differentiate between 'orange human' and 'normal human'.

Thankfully this was just the 'guide colour' and it all washed off when I could finally and gratefully jump into the shower. So much to my surprise, and the triumphant smugness of my husband (that will have to stop), I actually really like my spray tan. It looks really natural, I look healthy for possibly the first time in my life, and I won't have to be scared of blinding people with the glare from my bare legs!

Suffice to say, I will be booking in for another one in a couple of weeks, so will definately be spraying it again!

Happy Blogging Birthday!

I've just realised that it has been a year since TweedTwinsetAndPearls came to life!

It's been a difficult year of blogging, given that I was a refugee for several months. However, I have some very lovely readers who are very loyal, and have stuck with me throughout the year and read the nonsense that I have been writing.

I have also had the privilege of being in contact with some fellow bloggers who have been endlessly generous with their support and encouragement.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the first year of Tweediness, and I just want to thank each and every one of my lovely readers all over the world, who have shared it with me.

Big Tweedy snogs to you all!

Ashleigh xxx

Sitting On The Fence

Over the Bank Holiday, I got into a bit of a ruck with some vegans about the morality of celebrating the Monarchy.

I'd like to pretend it was completely civilised, but it wasn't, however, it was very entertaining, and in some ways very interesting.

I couldn't help but contrast some of the vociferous anti- monarchy viewpoints expressed, with the childlike, innocent glee with which my 4 year old son and his little friends took part in the Jubilee celebrations.

This got me thinking, if I was an anti-monarchist, how would I have reacted to my little one's triumphant exit from school last Friday wearing his homemade crown, and waving a Union Jack. Would I have ripped the crown off his head, thrown the flag in the bin, and felt the need to lecture him on the evils of social inequality, privilege and oligarchy? Well no, and I am fairly convinced that most reasonable people, regardless of their opinion of the Queen wouldn't either.

It did get me thinking about how much or our opinions and prejudices do we have a right to pass on to our children?

Take religion for instance. As an R.E teacher, I had a constant battle on my hands trying to convince pupils of the value of learning about what other people believe, and how that has shaped our society and thinking. Most of the prejudice I met with clearly sprang from their parents, who frequently felt the need to tell me that they didn't believe in God, and how they had hated R.E at school. Apparently they felt that their children should share these feelings, regardless of the fact that I was not trying to convert them to any religion, and that the teaching of the subject has changed so dramatically that I doubt the parents would even recognise it as the same discipline they used to study.

Despite the fact that I was brought up as a Christian, and I have had both my sons baptised, it is important to me that my children should be able to make an informed choice about their spiritual lives. So when Eldest Tweedling comes home and asks me questions such as; "Mummy, did God make the world?" My answers have tended to be of the; "Well that's what some people believe" variety. Now obviously four is a bit young to start learning about the teleological argument for the existence of God, but one day, I look forward to having that particular conversation as well.

But I think there comes a point where a detached neutrality simply isn't good enough as a learning experience. For various reasons, I no longer attend a church, but I am happy for my Mum to take the boys to church, simply because religion isn't just something to learn about, it is also something you do. I don't think they can actually make an informed choice about religion unless it is an experience they have actually had.

Whether it is politics, religion, or eating meat, or any contentious issue, I think it is important to demonstrate to a child how to have strongly held beliefs, and communicate them, or possibly explain or defend them, in a civilised, and articulate manner, while also accepting that others may have equally deeply held beliefs that may be the polar opposite to theirs.

What intrigues me is how we go about this without influencing our children to be little clones of ourselves. I want to know how, as parents, we can demonstrate deeply held convictions, without brainwashing our children, how we can train them to both accept, and question at the same time.

I would certainly welcome input from other parents, and of course non-parents on these questions. Do you have certain beliefs which you expect your children to share? How do you encourage your child to explore different viewpoints on contentious issues? I'd love to hear how others deal with this.

Tipping Point - For the Children of Houla

If you have not yet heard of the massacre in Houla, please read this article from The Times

As a parent, I have no words to describe the horror and despair I feel for the people of Houla. I have two children under the age of five, and to think of the beauty and innocence that has been corrupted and destroyed by the violence and anger of a few heartless people is simply unbearable.

The words that follow are not my own, but are my offering as a tribute to the dead children of Houla.


Song for Dead Children
By Muriel Rukeyser 1913–1980


We set great wreaths of brightness on the graves of the passionate
who required tribute of hot July flowers—
for you, O brittle-hearted, we bring offering
remembering how your wrists were thin and your delicate bones
not yet braced for conquering.


The sharp cries of ghost-boys are keen above the meadows,
and little girls continue graceful and wondering.
Flickering evening on the lakes recalls those young
heirs whose developing years have sunk to earth,
their strength not tested, their praise unsung.


Weave grasses for their childhood—who will never see
love or disaster or take sides against decay
balancing the choices of maturity.
Silent and coffined in silence while we pass
loud in defiance of death, the helpless lie.



October 1935


Good people, if this has moved you in any way, please sign the Save The Children Petition

Friday Fancy - The Muppets - Mahna Mahna

OK I've been so excited about this Friday's Fancy because it's the MUPPETS y'all!

You know you are going to be singing this for the rest of the day, so just go with the flow and enjoy it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Muppets!

Have a fabulous Friday my lovelies! xxx