Not much going on with me, due to being ill this week has been very quiet. On Sunday, Nic and I elected to have a bumming around day. September has been really busy so far and it was good to just spend the day in each other's company. We went out for a walk in the watery September sunshine and went to Vinteas on Park Street for some tea and scones.
Monsoon Carnaby dress, Irregular Choice Cortesan shoes and vintage handbag
I actually bought this dress ages ago - maybe at the end of June? It was extremely cheap in the Monsoon sale - basically the only way I can countenance buying something from Monsoon as it's ridiculously overpriced (see also: Laura Ashley, but actually even in the sale they can bite me. Ebay or nothing for me and Laura Ashley) I was pleased to find this within my el cheapo budget too because I'd had my eye on it for some time. I got it in the branch in Coventry which, when I went in, was in such deep sale-related disarray it honestly looked like it had been ram-raided. I think there was a top hanging from the light fitting. That branch has since closed! This dress is the same cut as the Meadow dress, which is one of my favourites because of the lovely button detail on the back bodice, but I went a size down with this one because the Meadow dress is too loose in the top for me. I think this one is a much better fit and I loved wearing it - I'm sure you all will see it round here more often in the colder months.
As I said, I took Nic along to Vinteas for some tea and scones. He enjoyed the tea and the scones but I think he was less convinced by the decor than I was:
It's a bit twee, isn't it?
GIMMEH CLOTTED CREAM
My previous crabbing about the use of the word vintage holds true, but that was a tasty scone. It's a shame the experience was 'enhanced' by the very loud conversation of some nearby patrons - one of whom was so enamoured of a supposedly wonderful essay she'd written about Iago she wouldn't shut up about it. This same young lady claimed, loudly, to hate ALL twentieth century literature, dissed The Sign of Four in favour of Wuthering Heights and then went on to declare her hatred for immigrants before plotting out how to spend her inheritance. I was almost tempted to think of it as performance art, but then I remembered some of the English literature students I met as a Warwick undergraduate and thought again. Why do other people have to ruin otherwise pleasant experiences, eh? But anyway, the scone was very good and so was the tea - I had a blend of Earl Grey and Darjeeling.
After all that excitement, it was home to bed with me. I lead such an exhilarating life, do I not?! Since then my major activities have been sleeping, drinking lemsip, watching season 2 of Treme and hanging out with this guy:
I'm hoping this will help me to recover in time for a weekend of fun. Fingers crossed!