Milk & Manolos

I’m in love. It’s the kind of love that’s life long, and man, it gives you that funny feeling you your stomach. Sadly not in quite the same way as when you meet Mr Right (or Mr Right Now for that matter), but certainly enough to put a spring in your step and get you through the morning. That’s right ladies, I’m in love with my coffee machine.

Gone are my days of waiting in line at the local Starbucks to receive a luke warm coffee and a bill akin to the Gross National Product of a Third World country. I now have my coffee on tap, any which way but how, and coins in my purse at the end of the week.

After much debate we settled on the Rolls Royce of Coffee Machines, the Gaggia Classic. Since then I have been flying high on either a killer caffeine buzz or just plain love for my new Italian friend, the purveyor of my very fine cappuccino of a morning. I’m honestly not sure which.

If only I’d have discovered this sooner. Perhaps those cold, lonely, sleepless nights as a new mother wouldn’t have been so hard with my Gaggia welcoming me with open arms at 6 am ?

Today I’m zhooshing. As part of the process I shall be paying a visit to VV Rouleaux, where they specialise in the art of improvement.

There’s nothing you can’t improve with a piece of carefully place ribbon. Well, nothing feminine at least. I can’t see the Husband allowing any ribbonage on his person. In the past I’ve transformed many a dress and cardigan with a purchase from Monsieur Rouleaux. Today I’m moving onto home-ware …

Then there’s Christmas. Personally there’s nothing nicer than a carefully wrapped present tied with a piece of carefully chosen ribbon. The look I’m going for this year is brown paper, ribbon to be decided.

My heart rate has increased tenfold in excitement. My needle and thread are at the ready.

The season to be jolly is almost upon us, so too is the time to invest in some classic day to night wardrobe items. Topshop have yet again excelled themselves in this field.

There’s no doubting that there is the propensity for me to turn into Pat Butcher later in life, and my love of their gold strip top currently up for grabs only serves to worry the husband further. Fabulous.

Now all I need are some gaudy earrings and off we go.

“Never underestimate the importance of a good bra” a very ample chested friend advised me a couple of years ago. There I was in my grey Marks & Spencer bra admiring the small glimpse of prettiness I could see at the edge of her boat necked top. Deciding then and there my 34C’s needed attention I booked myself in for a proper fitting, Royal style. Rigby and Peller here I come.

I’ve never been particularly conscious of my body so being topless in front of my fitter didn’t phase me in the slightest. These puppies needed sorting and I was on a mission. After a touch of light measuring and the trying on of a couple of bras for size, it emerged that I’d been wearing the wrong size for years. Suddenly it all fell into place. Literally. Putting on a properly fitted bra is like wearing your favourite pair of old jeans, or going home, it just works. Mind you, discovering you’re a 30 F has it’s problems. Far from a common size M & S were no longer suitable suppliers. Trawling lingerie specialists far and wide Bravissimo, Fig Leaves and John Lewis have all been able to help me. Not including Messrs Rigby and Peller where it all began.

The last time I rode a bike I was the victim of a delinquent spoke. Unlatching itself while travelling down hill at speed I was flung over the handlebars and onto the tarmac. Fortunately my injuries where minimal (a grazed knee at worst) but since that event fifteen years ago I’ve been apprehensive about getting back in the saddle.

I had grown to love my Old Ladies bike. Having been my getaway vehicle from many a flasher on Wandsworth Common, it was a sad sad day when our love affair ended. Replaced by a soulless Raleigh bike with 10 gears it became clear that my bike riding days were over.

That was until I discovered Pashley. Specialising in traditionally built bicycles and tricycles you can’t help but fall in love with their wares. Well built and easy to use these are perfect for the girl about town. Quite honestly, when cycling who wants to look like Lance Armstrong ? I’m strictly a no lycra zone. In love with the romantic image of popping to the shops and filling my wicker basket with goodies I’m hardly Tour de France material.

These are the bikes for those who want to enjoy the journey in effortless style AND bit of exercise to boot. It looks like it’s time to dust off those bicycle clips and find myself a helmet …

I love a bargain, who doesn’t ? It’s the thrill of the chase. Of course there’s always the danger that you’re buying something because of its bargain status, rather than because you want or need it. I speak with experience on this matter - taking one look at my wardrobe will show you I’ve never quite learnt my lesson.

I admit It took me years to venture into TK Maxx. That red logo slightly scarred me, as did the racks and racks of what seemed to be rubbish. Oh, how I’ve learnt the error of my ways ! Never judge a book by it’s cover and all that. Feeling the fear, and doing it anyway I ventured inside, and the truth be told, I’ve never looked back.

The first thing I need to point out is that there is a knack to this type of shopping. The most important thing is that you hit your local store as early as you can in the day. After about mid-day chaos reins. Getting in there first thing ensures that the shelves are newly stocked and everything is looking neat and tidy. Both vital in a good bargain find.

The second tip is to keep the faith, and your standards high. Don’t be distracted by the bargains. Yes, there are plenty to be had but just because it’s cheap doesn’t mean you want it. What you’re looking for is a needle in a haystack. So far I’ve found Prada jackets, Seven Jeans, Amplified T-shirts to name but a few. Believe me, you have to kiss a LOT of frogs.

TK Maxx is truly great for toys. Their stock is that of bankrupt and folded businesses, which they everso kindly take of their hands, for far less than the market value - the savings being passed onto their customers. You can get big name toys at a fraction of their normal price. I was beside myself with joy when I found the Munchkin a Cabbage Patch doll on a recent trip. You can take a girl out of the eighties but can you take the eighties out of girl ? Very definitely not given the reaction of the Sales Assistants in the Space NK we popped into on a recent shopping expedition.

Next time you pass try venturing in. You might just find yourself a bargain.

There’s something about Autumn that brings out the tourist in me and there’s nothing like spending a rainy Sunday at a museum. Fun for all the family, and a gift shop to boot.

Now that the Munchkin is of an age where the pushing of buttons and pulling of levers floats her boat, where better to start than at the Science Museum.

The reality far exceeded my hopes for the day. Thinking there would be a ‘push’ here and a ‘pull’ there I was amazed to discover the Launch Pad permanent exhibition for kids. Here you can truly spend hours upon hours discovering the joys of science. I wouldn’t be wrong if I said we all learnt a thing or two.

There’s a magnificent water table at which the Munchkin whiled away a lot of the afternoon. So much so I had to retired and treat myself to most delicious hot dog, pushing my ketchup covered face against the viewing panels to ensure she played nicely. Admittedly the Husband was by her side however he had regressed to being 4 years of age and was currently building a dam with one of the other Pas.

The Gallery Garden is a multi-sensory experience. When I woke yesterday morning I never dreamt for one minute I would find myself in the bristles of a giant tooth brush later that day. Lights and sounds a go-go by 4 pm we were ready for afternoon tea.

Retiring briefly for a cuppa and a slice of cake I was insistent we hit the gift shop before heading home. Stopping myself from buying far too much I settled on a kaleidoscope for the Munchkin and a Periodic Table Mug for the Husband. As the son of Scientists I had hoped he might appreciate it - fyi I was wrong. What he DID appreciate was a Munchkin who had had such a good day she was insitant on an early night.

I’m ashamed to say that my ability to speak any language other than English is woefully poor. As a teenager I spent my French lessons copying the love letters of one of fiercest girls at school. These were being sent to her boyfriend, then at Her Majesty’s Service. Why was I copying them ? All because she liked my handwriting. I didn’t mind. My aptitude for language, including English at that stage, was downright poor. It was far more glamourous documenting this l’affaire du coeur and it ensured my safe passage through a rather rough inner city comprehensive. Praise the Lord my parents whisked me off to boarding school aged 16 to learn the error of my ways.

Because of this, I’m determined the Munchkin succeed where I failed. Now the English is coming along at a pace, it’s time to focus on International Munchkin.

First step is to invest in some Mudpuppy Flashcards. Beautifully illustrated and in the choice of French and Spanish the Munchkin and are I going to set about this journey together.

Some are born with good hair, others are quite simply not. Within that scale I’m not entirely sure where I fit … yes, there is hair, tick. Always a good starting point. The problem is that it’s never been as full as I’d have liked, and since the Munchkin’s arrive it seems to have a permanent demi wave, the kind that looks like you’ve just taken your hair out of a pony tail.

I long to be the kind of woman who blow dries her hair. The intention is there but for some reason it just never seems to happen. There’s no doubt it would provide some much needed glamour but a) I’ve never mastered the skill and b) despite my best endeavours it’s often something that doesn’t even feature on the radar of my ablutions.

My wonderful hairdresser, K at Windle has introduced me to the lazy girls hair care regime and I’m lovin’ it.

Over the years I’ve learnt that your hair is one of the things to spend money one. If you’ve got good hair and a decent accessories you can get away with a lot. My quarterly investment in the former is a cut and colour at my favourite salon. For the first time ever I’ve had highlights so expertly done that I can wait 3 months before returning. He’s even offered to teach the Husband how to blow-dry. Oh, how I dream about the possibility of this becoming a reality.

Because of K’s expertise I’m able remain a wash and go kinda girl - on my journey of self-discovery I’ve come to realise that I ain’t ever gonna be as bouffed as I’d have liked, but that’s ok. With K by my side, who needs daily attention ?

Thursday’s have slowly become one of my favourite days of the week. Beside the fact that Thursday is the new Friday, I can attribute this positivity for an otherwise uninspiring day of the week to my something that arrives in my inbox. Thursday is Popbitch day.

As wrong as it is, I do like to keep myself abreast of the latest celebrity tittle tattle and for gossip, this is the place to come. Once signed up, an email will arrive in your inbox each Thursday, just in time for elevenses. I warn you now, that this isn’t for the fate hearted - these guys specialise in real heart-stopping gossip, provided by anonymous industry insiders.

Who needs the Pink Tops ? In search of nourishment for my nosey parkerness, this is hot off the press, and best of all, free.