I have pterodactyl earrings

It’s Mother’s Day in several places in the world today; admittedly not in this one, but it is in the place where I’m from. So I get a second bite of the cookie, as it were.

First up, a chance to lounge in bed with a coffee and the Sunday papers, followed by the sounds of busy, important feet trotting up the stairs, and bright little faces chorusing “Happy Aussie Mother’s Day Mama!!”

There were lovely cards from local gift shop Emporia, where 1st birthday celebrations this weekend meant that there was cake and a 10% discount into the bargain. There was a huge Lego construction on which they’d collaborated, a kind of pseudo-cake, bright, multi-layered and completely carb-free. And there were pterodactyl earrings, which I adore.

I first spotted them when I was gift shopping at Magi Gifts in Brockley a month or so back. A local designer uses plastic toy animals and makes them into quirky (I hate that word, but you know what I mean) pieces: lugubrious bulldogs as pendants, lizards dangling down, in a friendly way, from your earlobes. I loved every piece of it and kept meaning to go back and ‘treat myself’ at some stage.

However, my lovely family took matters into their own hands and I am now sporting prehistoric winged beasts on my ears. It’s been a sweet day: nothing fancy, but the chance to go for a long, relaxed run this morning, followed by my favourite breakfast of sheep’s yoghurt, raspberries and fresh mint. We’ve planted bee and butterfly-attracting seeds in the garden, been for a bike ride and checked out the new gelateria, Oddono’s in East Dulwich (verdict: “Can we come here every day now that it’s summer, Mama?”)

I’m more than happy to go back (they do great coffee) but summer? Might be too early for such grandiose statements. Today I wore, in honour of the day, the Splendid tank top that my brood bought me from Net-a-Porter a few years ago for Mother’s Day (the English one). My photo doesn’t show the fabulousness of its colour well enough; this Outnet link is far better. I adore it but alas, unfriendly temperatures meant that it was soon concealed by a sweatshirt. But I wore my hair pulled up so that my earrings, at least, were on show.







he is so wonderfully consistent

There’s nothing ungenerous about my husband- in his attitudes to people, his open mindedness, his time and his money, he’s one of the most giving and kind people I’ve ever known. Which is all very well and good, but I’d say he could do with narrowing his focus a bit, because his attention to detail sure could use some work.

On a recent trip back from working abroad, he sought the help of a Duty Free sales assistant, telling her that his wife wanted ‘something to do with touching a pussy.’ By the time they’d established that it was Touche Éclat that he wanted (touch the cat, in his version of Franglais, you see, hence his confusion) the poor women was so flustered, or possibly offended, that they didn’t even bother to discuss the appropriate tone for my colouring and I ended up with the lightest shade: not ideal for my Asian skin.

Today, he’s returned from a week in Miami, bearing a Marc Jacobs bottle. “Well, I figured, you like his clothes, so maybe you’d like his perfume too,” he said. The box looked very blue; some, without meaning to be sexist or cliched, might even say masculine. I sprayed it on my wrist and took a whiff. “Thank you!” I exclaimed. “Thank you for my aftershave!” His response has been one of complete disbelief and incredulity; I’ve had to show him this page, complete with body-confidence-crushing picture from The Truth About Beauty,
to convince him.

He’s off to New Zealand tomorrow, so I’m looking forward to unwrapping a pair of men’s briefs or somesuch on his return. After all, he’s bound to go into a store and ask for a Y-front rather than a B-cup. He’s consistent, my husband , as well as kind and generous. I love that about him. And I’d far rather have a laugh than beauty products anyway.