A Midsummer Night’s Newsletter

So, should I use my Trump card? Play my Joker?

You know his favourite song is going to be ‘The Gambler’, his favourite film ‘The Player’ and Melania just doesn’t care, it’s that strange mix of ignorance or apathy?

Life in the social media spotlight…

I know you said you missed me, but you should take better aim.

Let me begin with a thank you.

I would like to thank everyone for their patience whilst we tried out the new software.

One of the points you raised, happened to be; that the emails weren’t as personal as the normal dross I send out… well excuse me!!!

It is of course the standard fayre from most other people, so think yourselves lucky that I put some effort in.

It will be all you will get, once we go all Artificial Intelligence on you. Never forget I may not be the greatest dancer, but I do have algorithm!

Apparently, it’s all about dancing to save the planet. Please do not write to me, to tell me just how bad that joke is on so many levels!

At least I haven’t resorted to begging letters, telling you how much you will miss me when I have gone, how much I value your privacy, when I have scant regard for my own; my list of Miss Demeanors is long and varied!

And do you think I have the time whilst circumnavigating the globe to once again put pen to paper, just to pander to your whims.

I am not the Donald, like the dawn chorus, twittering every cough and spit, hovering like a seagull looking for a freshly washed car. He is only the leader of the free world, I have much loftier ambitions. I am more twilight barking, up all night howling at the moon.

Just how humiliated must M. Macron feel now, one moment, bosom buddies with ‘Tariff La Quiff’, holding hands, staring deep and lovingly into each other’s eyes; the next on bended knee and unable to find Donald’s G7-spot, he is cast aside, suddenly there is no penetrating this market without him extorting a heavy price.

Yes, I could have said something else, but people do read this to their children as a cautionary tale, in order to explain what can happen to you if you don’t eat your greens!

But it doesn’t end there, Donald is cuddling up to lil’Kim, apparently Melania’s kidneys are a perfect match for Kim’s, which is why she has been out of the spotlight for so long. Before long Donald will have fallen out with his new friend, taken back his toys, his wife and her kidney.

His huge missile will be aimed into space, ‘Ground Control to Major Don, you’re floating in a tin can, in most peculiar way…’

Luckily if I send this out in the middle of a game you’ll all ignore it and I can go back to my towel on the beach, and you won’t bother me with requests for this and that.

My next instalment will be from the beach in Ibiza, perhaps tonight I will go in search of the quiet life and marry a Kardashian.

 

 

 

A little fun with Shakespeare… and one other

Give me a few hours on a train to while away, and my creative juices start to flow. So my apologies, I have taken a few liberties, I dreamt a dream tonight…

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears.

How do all occasions form against me, and spur my dull revenge? Beware the ides of March. Full of vexation come I, with complaint.

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

What’s he then says I play the villain, blow wind and crack your cheeks.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me, and yet to be or not to be, takes arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing them? To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream and of that dream, for every trifle are they set upon me; and with all the infections the sun sucks up? My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad.

But a dream itself is just a shadow, and when I waked, I cried to dream again, as dreams are toys. Yet we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Where sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight. Here will we sit and let the sounds of music creep in our ears, and music has the charms to calm my savage breast.

I am that merry wanderer of the night and sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, a merrier hour was never wasted there! In that vessel, O thou invisible spirit of wine! If thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil, and virtue a fig!

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind?

She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed: she is woman, and therefore to be won. For where thou art, there is the world itself; and where thou art not, desolation.

I am one who loved not wisely, but too well, for my own part, I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine; yet, I bear a charmed life. Be all my sins remember’d.

Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death…

 

 

 

 

 

 

A small amuse bouche of the new Summer Collection that has arrived

I know snow is headed our way, but spring hopes hope springs eternal, and briefly at some point our average-sized sun may make an appearance over the next few months. I admit to not knowing the riddles of the universe, but I am happy in the knowledge that someone else might.

Meanwhile I will peddle my own version of the emperor’s new clothes!

Linen Polo Shirt £145, Stretch Cotton Linen Shorts £135 and Suede Belt £85

Linen Polo Shirt £145, Stretch Cotton/Lycra Chinos £135 and woven canvas belt £79

Linen Polo Shirts £145, Stretch Cotton Shorts £125

Linen Polo Shirt £145, Linen Trousers £175, Stretch woven belt £79

Long Sleeve Linen Knitted Shirt £165, Linen shorts £135, stretch woven belt £85

Cotton Camouflage pullover £150, Jacob Cohen Stretch Cotton Chinos £270, Suede Camouflage Belt £125

Linen shirt £145, linen trousers £175 and woven linen belt £79

Linen Polo Shirt £145, Cotton/linen blend shorts £135 and stretch woven belt £85

Linen shirts £145

Giro Inglese white shirt £145, grey and white linen check trousers £175 and stretch woven belt £85

Blouson in Loro Piana Rain System with jersey sleeves £390, Jacob Cohen Stretch chinos £270 and stretch woven belt £85

Navy Blue Loro Piana Rain System raincoat with removable down filled insert £590

Grey Loro Piana Rain System raincoat with removable down filled insert £590

Suns out… no, no ,no please don’t!

Really please don’t, although the sun is out, it is too early…

So Valentines has been and gone. I have to admit on Wednesday I struggled to push the door to the shop open because of the huge amount of post piled up on the mat. I carefully opened each and every one, and I must say that every each and every one brought a tear to my eye. Some reminders, some final, even a few summoning me, I felt truly loved and blesssed. How thoughtful of everybody to send me a bill on the exact same day.

Anyway, why not cover up in style? You know you want to, everybody else would appreciate it as well.

Here are some of the new bits and pieces that have arrived.

Each item purchased distracts Jake for long enough for him not to worry about jinxing the season that ‘Wonder Wolves’ are having!

And do remember with each purchase you will be getting me a step closed to going back to Ibiza!

Mid Blue summer stretch chinos from Jacob Cohen with the plaited belt.

Pale Blue summer stretch chinos from Jacob Cohen with the last tan studded belt.

Orange down filled gilet with Navy Blue summer stretch chinos from Jacob Cohen with navy washed calfskin belt and white long sleeve jersey shirt.

Pale blue micro down filled gilet, beige long sleeve jersey shirt and the Mid Blue summer stretch chinos from Jacob Cohen with the punched belt.

Pale blue micro down filled gilet in Navy Blue with the grey summer stretch chinos from Jacob Cohen, with a long sleeve jersey shirt in blue melange.

Khaki micro down filled gilet with the Pale Blue long sleeve jersey shirt.

Grey short jacket with hood in Loro Piana Rain System and jersey sleeves and the Pale Blue summer stretch Jacob Cohen chinos.

Free Newsletter

Well that woke you all up…

You are weak… try saving this for later. You know you want to, but it will reel you in, the poor prose, grammatical errors and bad spilling. Or is it the fact that I might once again be giving something away for nothing!

Let me tell you, it backfired last time, so don’t worry, lightening doesn’t strike twice!

Although it does make me wonder what I should give away next after the jeans, jars of Nutella?

I would, but then none of you would be able to get into the jeans!

So, I am back, why?

In October I stepped back from the world to see how you would fare on your own.

For four months I stayed away, took the training wheels off the bike to see if you could ride it alone.

But in this short period; you gave me more Trump tweets, Christmas, Australian flu, the Pitti peacock, a new contract for Mezit Ozil, and snow in the Alps at Christmas.

However, I felt I had to return when the French, the home of haute cuisine gave us the ‘Nutella Riots’.

Yes, the French rioting in supermarkets because the price of a jar of Nutella had been reduced from €4.50 to €1.40, no longer the culinary upper hand I feel, they had resorted to actual physical violence over a jar of hazelnut and chocolate spread. The world has gone nuts, I felt compelled to cross back through the gates of Hades.

So, I stepped back in again before you did something even I couldn’t fix, like kilts as a fashion statement.

You have the appearance of free will, the choice of which car to buy, which drink to have at lunch, but when it comes to the important things in life like putting your clothes on, I have had to step back in.

Spare a thought for poor Perseus who put his back out bending down to put on a pair of Oxford shoes with his jeans, we all know that it should only be loafers… He is now flat on his back in his swan neck bed all because of the wrong shoes, like poor Zoolander, unable to turn right.

The Tories on the other hand have turned right and just kept going, it’s even got El Faragio in a tizzy! Trampling on his daisies. Boris couldn’t keep his powder dry and was out of the blocks making more promises he probably won’t be able to keep 100 million for this, 100 million for Sanchez, whilst Govie, Govie, Govie is trying not to sip from the cold glass of Chardonnay in front of him, lest he let slip his plans for world domination.

Meanwhile, it has become increasingly obvious to me that as I have matured, the powers with which I have been bestowed with have put me in a league of my own. 

Those of you still hankering to come back as me will realise that the queue now stretches all the way to Tower Bridge, one or two of you have even pitched tents.

Let me, let you into a secret, I am not a prototype, despite the manifest flaws of the Nexus 6 and 7, I am the new fully functional Nexus X model. Move over Harrison and Ryan; I am Wunderwuzzi!

But, I will admit to being weak, I know, hard to believe, but I do have my Kryptonite. Like a moth to a flame I was drawn back to Ibiza. I had hoped the cold turkey would last until next Christmas, then Skyscanner sent me a price alert, it tipped me over the edge. Without a second thought, the tickets were booked.

What had I done, given in to targeted advertising? Off go the location services, privacy settings cranked up to the max, and I have removed the Sim card from the back of my neck. Try and find me now!

Heavens, what would I be forced/tempted to buy next, wait, hang on, what else had I been eyeing up on the internet? No, perhaps I shouldn’t answer that one.

Anyway, more powerful than Diana, daughter of Zeus, I marvel at the skills I have inherited; the world says jump, I ask how high?

Ask me to walk on water; I say ‘Walk a mile in my shoes’.

Those of you who spend some time in the shop will have experienced my strange and phantasmagorical tales, of places far and wide, like Walter Mitty, I live a parallel universe, where time is elastic, and I dream of electric sheep.

One of my favourite escapes on Ibiza is to run from Ibiza Town along the beach in Talamanca and over the top of the hill in Jesus, through the woods and down to the deserted beach at S’Estanyol. There I disrobe, lay my clothes to dry in the warm sunshine whilst I swim in the warm waters of the bay.

Perfect for testing out my ‘Wunderwuzzi’ credentials I thought. I neatly laid my clothes out and walked the length of the jetty. I half expected to hear the sound of harps, gentle choral music and be drawn to a bright light.

I paused briefly before stepping off, something was wrong, rather than gliding out across the sea, my foot broke the surface, and I tumbled head first into 3 feet of water. Surfacing I realise that the water wasn’t nearly salty enough, not up to Dead Sea standards anyway, has no one heard of health and safety?

I also noticed that I was surrounded by little red orbs dancing in the waves, I was in the all-together and these were jellyfish. Luckily for me the water at this time of year is very, very cold and any chance of me being stung vaguely anywhere important had literally shrunk to nothing, I climbed back onto to the jetty unscathed, tail between my legs, an unstung hero…

I will let you into another little secret, Superman must be rueing the day that he passed on the knowledge of Muography to a couple guys from Tokyo. They appear to have found our hiding place, he can’t blame me as it wasn’t me who blabbed for a change, but we’ll have to find a new spot.

Suppie and I used to hang out inside the pyramid of Khufu, safe in the knowledge that no one knew we were there. He’d wrestle with the problems of the universe, I’d be laying out razor blades to sharpen, as once used they weren’t the sharpest tool in the box.

Having said that; after reading the ‘Riddle of the Pyramids’ in my teens, I have been using the same blade ever since and OK the bleeding is a little unfortunate, but once I’ve swathed myself in the bandages I don’t look so bad, and it has proffered me one or two rather profitable, incognito film roles.