As women, we are all juggling lots of balls – and sometimes we drop them. I reckon there are three kinds of balls:
Rubber ones – If you drop them they bounce pretty high and you can normally catch them on the way up, or the way down, and rescue the situation;
The ones that you find in ball pits – Not much bounce but if you act quickly and scoop them up, you might just about get away with whatever was about to go belly up;
Glass balls – Drop one of those and you are stuffed. Well and truly stuffed.
More about that later…
And here I am again – in the same coat. I know, this is getting dull, really dull but a combination of bad weather and being really short of time this week, due to a poorly fella, means that I’m just sticking with what’s close to hand.
I was styling this morning (in case you are wondering what I did with said poorly child, my husband and I are boxing and coxing when it comes to childcare) so wore this outfit with my navy patent Hobbs loafers and my grey Mulberry handbag. By the time it came to pick up from school it was raining so I put on tan boots but felt that the grey bag couldn’t stay, so, in an effort to inject a little bit of spring into the outfit, I used what I call my Ted Baker ice cream bag.
Here’s a better shot of the bag (handbag) but a worse shot of me (the old bag).
This is what I had on underneath my coat – slim fitting navy Cos trousers and a lace top which I bought from Monsoon Fusion last summer. I really like the fit of it as it is neat and covered!
Monsoon has done a very similar top this season, which you can see below…
Tomorrow I am off to the Boden press day so I shall be on the 5.50am train to London. Ouch. In the evening I am styling ladies at Selfridges in preparation for Ascot so I am not sure whether a post will materialise – but then again if it’s raining and I’m wearing the same bloomin’ coat again you won’t be missing much.
Anyway, as to the ball dropping. Today’s dropped ball arose as a result of me failing to remember that our youngest should have gone to school dressed as a farm animal. Despite my guilt, I concluded that the ball that I dropped was only a rubber ball – largely because she wasn’t fussed and ended up being the “Farm Fairy”, which suited her down to the ground. However my friend’s parting words, delivered with a twinkle in her eye were:
“I am so going to dob you in to the Daily Mail.” What a bad mother I am – please don’t tell them that I let the children eat (home made) chocolate cake on their birthdays. Anyone else dropped any balls today?