Oh! The Irony

Aboard my Vespa, a pit stop, a little splash and dash… the perfect Martini.

Things are looking Grimm.

The irony is; tonight, just as the sun is setting…no, no, no.

Just as the result of the ‘No confidence’ vote on our bothered, bewitched and bewildered leader is announced I will be sat with the ‘Bird Man’ watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. We know how this looks, we just don’t care… we could have been watching the football, but it is less tribal…

I have checked the names of all the Dwarfs and, even including those that were left out from the original sixteen, there wasn’t one called, Spiteful, Two-Face or Trump!

In three days Snow White will be 81, older than me, younger than my mother, more like my stepsister… even Uncle Walt couldn’t have dreamt up such a saga. I am struggling to see who will emerge to usurp Paul O’Grady as the wicked stepmother, but it does seem as though they are lining up more like the ugly sisters of Cinderella, and even after a haircut they are still trying to squeeze their pudgy feet into a glass slip-on.

And my apologies to Julian, but as Mr Clary would say, “they are sure to feel a cold hand on their entrance”, and be snubbed underneath the mistletoe above the door of number 10, step forward widow Twankey, take one for the team!

And as she eats, shoots and leaves, she turns in her kitten heels:

You’re a bum
You’re a punk
You’re an old slut on junk… You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot…

I am of course innocent in all this; the ‘Genie of the Lamp’, ready to be rubbed up the wrong way, however I will grant, but few wishes.

The Sun King has had his, I didn’t realise he was going to spend half a millions euros on plates, €62,000 on hairdressing, usurping M .Hollande and €26,000 on makeup in 3 months. Why would he need it, even in Ultra HD, he is so young and fresh faced, perhaps he wants to venture out amongst his people incognito, sporting a yellow gilet!

The Donald has had his, the fact he doesn’t believe in Father Christmas was the final straw hair piece!

The Fairytale of New York? Oh, I wish it could be Christmas every day!

Because there is so much I need to get off my chest…

Black, black, black…

That’s about as much of a black Friday as anyone got out of me, and as for Cyberman Day, what happens if the Daleks find out that the Cybermen have their own special day.

Christmas is fast approaching, and that light at the end of the tunnel, is Santa on his sleigh wearing his brand new 20000 lumens head torch. The elves have fashioned out a reindeer stencil to warn any one who crosses their path, and Rudolph is sulking because it looks nothing like him…

Santa’s sack is shrinking. Gone are the heady days when it was full of chocolate goodies, now it is just Tobler One, Quality Close, and Terry’s Chocolate Tangerine.

When and where will it end? Will a Mars become a Mercury, will a Marathon (Snickers for you youngsters) become a Sprint, a Polo, just a hole; and a Topic, well you can thank the squirrel for that one.

Some people have expressed a desire to be part of the Newsletter, held up for posterity, it’s like pinning a tail on the Donkey; and yes there is an App, I have checked… So, Keith my thanks for your kindness and friendship, I wish you a speedy recovery with Nurse Camilla, beneath swaying palms and balmy skies.

Come March 29th next year, this will be nothing more than a hairdryer in the conservatory for some.

But I am troubled by thought that Brexit may be just a mirage, a tree that falls in the forest, the fridge light that never goes out, a road to nowhere, a bridge over troubled water. Cut off from the rest of the country, there will be just us fancy city folk, with our fancy Dan ways, foreign holidays and espresso machines, our own personal ‘barrista’ frothing at the mouth.

These heady days will be long gone, I’ll go back to making cities out of matchsticks and ships in bottles, a haven for flying ducks on my flock covered walls.

Our government will be a strange mix of Wombles, Clangers and Captain Pugwash. What do you mean it already is? Shocked emoji! Why hasn’t anyone said or done anything? Apathy, apathy, it’s not a party!

It is, and I will not let it distract me from my hedonism. I am in preparation for my twelve days of Christmas, when only a Baker’s Dozen will do.

I will update you, for those interested in joining in.

Please note the Christmas opening times and please, please, please, for my sake shop irresponsibly…

 

 

 

 

November Updates…. and some new stock!

My wishes have been granted, as will yours be if you persevere to the bitter end.

You will have wondered why my posts have been so thin on the ground, almost like hens’ teeth.

I have been pushed from pillar to post, run ragged, hither and thither, dragged through a hedge forwards, not knowing my left from my right, up hill and down dale? And if anyone remembers my Dale Winton story; you’ll know what a harrowing set of circumstances I encountered.

However, finally for one brief moment in time I gained an hour.

Oooooh what did I do with it? Boil a dozen eggs? What do think; I’m going soft?

How did I spend it, binge watch Game of Thrones, read the treat of Maastricht, go long on hours, go short on days?

We have received new stock and there will be photos as soon as my phone remembers what my face looks like… read to the end.

That extra hour? I put it in the bank and saved it up for nothing more than another monumental series of birthday celebration.

Then with that hour, I shall rise shameless with the lark, early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maid sing in the valley below…

While those who we entrust with our prized sovereignty play bureaucratic ‘Deal or No Deal’, sporting pudding basin haircuts. I partied away the days, and nights with people from all four corners of the earth, every shape and size, gender, colour and creed.

Tarif la Quiff would have raised sanctions against me for this excess and debauchery, while Beelzebub looked the other way and Nigel spluttered into his half pint…

My cup was never empty, my lips never without a smile, time with some of my nearest and dearest, rich in the knowledge that when this feast ever ended, lack of sleep would not be my famine.

I would also like to everybody for their kind wishes, each and every one gratefully received.

One or two, put two and two together, and still got the answer wrong!

PLEASE NOTE:

We will be closed on Tuesday 13th November 2018 and re-open on the 14th.

Vintage merino wool sweaters £150

Merino wool and cashmere pullovers £150

Belt and braces merino wool cardigan £220

Vintage merino wool sweatshirt £135

Merino wool birds eye cardigan £220

Water repellent wool cardigan £220

Vintage merino wool cardigan £175

Brushed cotton shirts £145

Woven cotton shirts £145

Cotton shirts £145

Cotton shirts £145

Brushed cotton shirts £165

Gingham check cotton shirts £145

Woven cotton shirts £145

Merino wool and flannel quilted Harrington jacket £390

Hood merino wool and flannel jacket £390

Reversible Loro Piana Storm System Cashmere and quilted coat

Denim colour Loro Piana cashmere Storm System quilted short coat £950

Wool and microfibre car coat £570

Nylon field jacket with removable hood £450

Wool and microfibre car coat £570

Nylon quilted iD jacket with suede trim £450

Nylon quilted iD jacket with suede trim £450

Change of hours

Please note from Monday 3rd September 2018 the opening hours changed, however there will occasionally be other days when the business has a little repose.

One of the days will take place on Tuesday 13th November 2018, we will re-open on Wednesday the 14th.

Monday: By appointment only
Tuesday: 11.00 – 19.00
Wednesday: 11.00 – 19.30
Thursday: 11.00 – 19.30
Friday: 11.00 – 19.00
Saturday: 10.00 – 17.00
Sunday: Closed

I will still be available outside these times on my mobile and via Whatsapp on +44 7801 629519.

I look forward to seeing you soon,

Adrian

New Stock

Do not worry there is plenty more to come…

Vintage Merino Wool long sleeve shirts at £175 and brushed cotton Prince of Wales check shirts at £165

Vintage wash merino wool roll neck pullover in brown at £190

Vintage wash merino wool roll neck pullover at £190

Shawl neck Geelong Pullover at £170 with a brushed cotton shirt at £145

Shawl neck Geelong Pullover at £170 with a jersey long sleeve shirt at £145

Shawl neck Geelong Pullover at £170 with a jersey long sleeve shirt at £145

Rain resistant knitted jacket at £290 with a brushed cotton shirt at £145

Quilted long sleeve knitted jacket in navy blue at £360, scarf model’s own, but apparently will sell for £89

Quilted long sleeve knitted jacket in navy blue at £360, scarf model’s own.

Navy blue gilet in techno fabric £220

Suede fronted quilted gilet with nylon back in brown at £490

Suede fronted quilted gilet with nylon back in blue at £490

Quilted gilet in flannel wool from Vitale Barberis Cannonico £360

Quilted gilet in flannel wool from Vitale Barberis Cannonico in silver grey at £360

Quilted gilet in brown nylon £250

Quilted gilet in camouflage nylon £250

Micro down filled quilted gilet in blue nylon £260

Micro down filled quilted gilet in light-blue nylon £260

Micro down filled quilted gilet in orange nylon £260

Down filled Parka with hood £550

Copyright © 2018 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

90th Birthday Celebrations

As it looks like I will be staycationing in London over the summer, you’ll be getting a few of these.

So, my apologies in advance for once again ploughing a political furrow, but as they are bolting the doors and drawing down the blinds for the recess, I thought I should get a kidney punch in before then, and it is such a rich vein, where there’s muck, there’s gold. (sic)

You also know when I get stuck on a theme I am like Count Orlok with Ellen.

Cameron, Davis or Johnson. The bendy men of politics, missed votes, broken promises and broken dreams, not a vertebrate between them, an empty sack of principles. However unlike the three little pigs their houses, were all built of cards.

But they have disappeared “The Men who never Were” (sic). A skillful game of bluff and double bluff. The body of the British economy washed up on a Spanish Beach, an attache case full of white paper at it’s side for Angela and Jean-Claude to examine, decipher and decode. Theresa is left to convince Michel that the contents of those papers are real and the game is afoot.

Across the ‘Pond’, well, I coulda’, shoulda’, woulda’.

Unfortunately, Vlad the Lad has eyes of Kaa. The snake from the Jungle Book, for the uninitiated amongst you.

It was as if I was Harry Palmer in The Ipcress Files; I was under his spell, I couldn’t help blurting the words out, I shouldn’t and normally I wouldn’t, but I did.

I kept hoping that he would tie me to a chair and set about me with a ‘soap on a rope’, preferably, Imperial Leather, but it was all a little too reminiscent of the Tsar and the Seventies, the Brut, he uses Hai Karate, be careful how you, use it!

Anyway, Vlad isn’t that old, just look at him, poor old Tariff could never work out if he was frowning or not.

La Quiff though, has taken a stand against the NFL players who in protest, take a knee during the National Anthem at the start of a game. He is threatening them with talk of fines and bans. Look T, have you seen the size of these guys. I suggest you reconsider or you may be taking a knee or two and be required to pucker up!

However, I am sure the leader of the free world has a long line of suitors, who if handsomely recompensed would take a knee in front of him whilst the Stars and Stripes played merrily in the background. Why you would want to, is an entirely different question, one I will drape a long, red tie and a very small non-disclosure over for the moment.

Two weeks ago, I was with my mother for her 90th birthday, she cooked for 21 guests who were nearly all over the age of 75 and the 80 stairs to her front door became like climbing the Scala Sancta in Rome, an act of homage, the final few stairs on their hands and knees. Luckily, I was on hand to administer revitalising alcoholic beverages, such are the friends of my mother.

Watching them all leave, once they had not been fed and watered, rather wined and dined for 4 hours was a rare sight! The journey down a might faster, allbeit with both hands on the handrail.

Happy Birthday Mother.