I'm Up All Night To Get Lucky

Reasons to be cheerful:

I don't yet have one but it has to be out there somewhere, it's mid May and this dank island is being pillaged by hail, snow and a chill with the bite of a slavering  Doberman.

Oh but wait...what's that? The sound of the summer? Well, by Jove it is. That is  French disco band, Daft Punk's "Get Lucky" being played on  an endless loop on my computer. 

Brits are forgiven for thinking I'm indulging in a spot of outright plagiarism,  Caitlin Moran wrote about this in her column last week and my jaw dropped - it's not just me then - some furtive national brainwashing is afoot. When I first heard the song, I thought, what an awful moronic  noise, so repetitive, so 80's, then I heard it again on another station and I wondered why two radio stations would revive the same rotten old  song  from 30 years ago. Then it became too much and I switched off the radio whenever it came on, then one day I heard it again and it had happened, the beat had infiltrated my amygdala and my feet and arms and hips all went a swaying into one of my finest ever Snoopy dances. 

paws up! this pic is just between us ok? he is my brother from another mother.


 An hour later I googled it to find out who sang it, then I You Tubed it and I saw him; Niles Rodgers, 'Le Freak C'est Chic', the man who gave us the quintessential sound of the 70's.
Sold to the woman with the same  hairstyle since 1977!
( Before you judge me, how else am I supposed to form Snoopy ears?)

99 pence later, it became the relentlessly playing 'Sound of Summer, 2013 in my house.

Miss Moran had the best lines, I'm paraphrasing but when she said 'Daft Punk have sent nanobots up my nostrils and lain disco mines down my spine" I said: 'yes, yes, yes me too'. And then she wrote about her friend who had "stripped down to his pants  for three days and snorted amyl" while listening to God's gift to Britain and the Continent on repeat. I'm not there yet but who knows where this dance of Pan will take me.

Louder Pan, play that funky music, chimera boy!

Right now astronauts would look down on the world and see the whole of Great Britain and France pulsating like a giant padded heart from a Hallmark card - let's take this global folks; Coke might have wanted to teach the world to sing but we want all  of you singing and dancing.

Took these pics on my last trip down.

I am about to enter the stratosphere of sequins, Pucci and  cheesecake.

Have you guessed?
That colourful Aussie sputnik, Faux Fuchsia has landed and I have brought my 49th  birthday trip to  London forward  by two weeks to meet her and Janet. Expect Janet and I to  return with bleached blonde do's, and plans afoot for kaleidoscopic electric kool- aid autumn wardrobes.

London Wheel.

I'm off to the  Big Smoke with a little something that was gifted to me, the Snugg i Pad 3 mini  leather case cover. Apparently the CIA have them, but  I bet theirs aren't dayglo orange. Goodbye i Pad callous  in the curve between my thumb and forefinger; does anyone else have one of those? The back of the case has a strappy hand  slot  which  makes  extended holding a far more relaxed prospect  and it has already proved invaluable for propping up in the kitchen to follow recipes.

Anyone recognise my happy place screensaver?
(Kathy, shhhh!)


I shall report back forthwith.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Get Lucky; paws up everyone, let's get this  globe pulsating!

(That was an awful lot of nonsense, do you see what happens when I barely speak to another living human for a few days?)

Meet Amy

A few days before I packed up my battered valise for Capri & Positano, I stumbled upon London based shoe company La Paire 

and soon found myself chitting and chatting backwards and forwards with Amy, who turned out to be its CEO. This is not a sponsored post more a paean to the loosy goosey connections that can be made through the  wonderful electronic tendrils of this digital age.  

Amy had been to Le Sirenuse and became my sartorial consigliere on what shoes to pack. I packed flats and only flats and for this I am  eternally grateful as it was roughly  130 steps up to our hotel every night - hubs says 180, I think he's at it.

When I was in Capri/Positano ( oh I know, that's getting a bit wearing now)   it was hard to resist  the Siren call of the local handmade sandal. 

Phew, Jackie didn't but then I think Pope  Francis  should make her St Jackie of  the dead souls subsumed to Hades  by the vice of excess shopping.

I never shop on holiday because  it's too easy to be caught up in the genus loci's grip -he's a sneaky, crafty one, he'll have you wafting about Perthshire in a Peruvian kaftan accessorised with  chupacabra  earrings.  

So I kept my gunpowder dry. La Paire sandals are handmade in Spain, they ship internationally and ooohhh they gave me  some thinking to do.

From La Paire's  bridal range, I love these sandals,  brides who choose these might be making a commitment  but their feet are staying footloose and fancy free.

PS. They are just about to launch a range of wedge heels, follow this link for a 20 % discount code.

All we need now here is a summer.

Capri

Hope you have your sea legs because today we are heading to Capri; for more than two thousand years an island of sybaritic pleasure, ever since Emperor Tiberius went in the huff with his fellow Romans and headed south where his holiday interests included vigorous sex and turfing those who got on his bad side off high cliffs. I have this on the very best authority, from Suetonius. Has anyone read his book, The Twelve Caesars? It's  the National Enquirer for the Classical Era. 

First stop was the JK Place whose pictures have been in every design blog and magazine for the last few years. We didn't stay here as we were Plebeian day trippers but went for drinks and mooched around. When we asked to see a room the manager, Simone Giorgi,  who was utterly, utterly charming, immaculately dressed  and sporting  a pair of the most striking blue suede shoes,  immediately whisked us to the most expensive room in the hotel. He was so lovely, I want to make him my new best friend. 

You'll see it below. What a room. What a terrace. What a price.

 This guest could not have been more picture perfect.

This portrait  of Lady Ashley is now burning a hole in my  locker of dark wants, does anyone know where I can find something similar?

Peekaboo!

I travelled in a red jumper, white jeans ( much like the woman above but much less chic)  and  packed two dresses, one white, one black, a raincoat, a white t shirt  and a swimsuit and a cover up - perfect.

Look at that bed spread,  it looks as if it has been botoxed. In fact they iron the linen once it is upon the bed; once again dedication to the cause,  even Tiberius couldn't find fault here.

I had never been to Capri and I utterly, utterly, utterly loved it and have to go back. We gasped at the Villa Jovis...

my pics didn't do it justice

 and tried to pick our hotel for a future visit which leads me to the next few photographs of the Hotel Minerva. "I'm torn between  two lovers, treated like a fool."

There was something about the Minerva that just made me wish it was my home. 

Look, more sea views for Selkie Tabs!

                                              The spirit  of Jackie lingers all over the island.

Mr Schettino, 93 years old and still going to work every day in his bijou magpie's nest of sandals where he has served everyone from Jackie to  Valentino to me.

Jackie buying even more sandals at Canfora.

I know, who writes postcards  anymore? Well I do, better that than face matriarchal  ire, mum loves a postcard. I wish I could say it's great to be home but it was so cold yesterday I wore gloves.

A Mermaid's Tale

As a certain glittery debauched malcontent would have crooned

"Did you miss me? Yeah! When I was away, did you hang my picture on your wall?" 

Probably not. 

This tessellated cupola and the Tyrrhenian Sea were the  view from my bed and balcony last week; believe it or not I found it quite oppressive to look out onto the tiered village, my eyes went seaward every morning. My husband thinks I'm a Selkie, (seal woman)  in Scottish mythology -  a man can steal her away from the ocean if he takes her skin and hides it. Traditionally they make excellent wives but spend an inordinate amount of time staring out to sea and if they ever find their scaled skin, they  will disappear into the white crash of the next wave. 

Forget the Old Man of the Sea, in this part of the world the females are more deadlier than the males. The Sirens, you'll remember them from Homer, lived on the islands which Positano over looks and they bequeathed their name to one of the most amazing hotels where I've ever had the fortune to lay my head. I honestly didn't think that Le Sirenuse  would live up to its reputation but it surpassed it. Among the best parts for me were the bed pillows (I'm worse than the princess and the pea) and the utter joy I experienced when finally realising that the mat in the lift reflected the day of the week - that's dedication. 

This was our room, staying here was as if a charming affluent friend with wealth and taste had given us the keys to their summer home. 

This was the 15th century summer home of the Marquis de Sersale  and the family still own it today. The 90-year-old patriarch still picks out every single antique for every room. 

I really hope you packed an appetite - here's breakfast.

And the view from the breakfast table is almost good enough to eat. 

Mick and Keith wrote 'Midnight Rambler' here, what a hard hard life it was on the road. 

The Sirenuse's secret views to Positano.

The bar,  a quiet riot of Majolica tiles and  mandarin orange upholstery, this was my favourite room - funny that.

Le Sirenuse, Positano

Splish!

This cut out swimsuit looks like Borat's thong in pics - thought I'd spare you that.

The first Aperol Spritz of the season, snip snip: I declare the season when Mad Dog and Englishman get drunk in the midday sun officially open.  

Look at what I'm reading, Greene on Capri, I am so predictable.

The restaurant - illuminated by the glow of 400 candles every evening.

I do love a good vegetable, it's the only shopping I do when on holiday. I bought that wriggly pepper on the left in case you were wondering, he had too much personality to be left behind.

Even the wrapping paper's frisky here.

Night night!

(my comments might  be sporadic, my internet is on the blink for a week)