A word child
Firstly my friends there are no flowers in this post – I feel wretched and apologise but sometimes I just don’t feel like talking petals.

Moving on, I have discovered two rare booky things this week, one is a pretty aesthetic thing the other requires me to look at pages of words and read.

So, Chapter 1
As you know I’m planning an orchard wedding at home in France but want to escape all the frufrulala ideas and still add a splash of fun.

We both love a good yarn and I rather like the idea of Chaucers and Christie’s on tables like below, (amongst obviously flowers made by me), but is it cheesy?

Would my Grandpa shudder at such defacing? Will the French Beatles tribute band and welly boot rule have put them off by then anyway? Hmm…Bingo, Ringo.

Chapter 2
A friend once told me the only way I’d get through to a wordy boyfriend was to dress up as book, it turned out she was probably right and with that particular Mills and Boon over I’m starting to love reading again, Monica Dickens rates highly as do any horticultural bits and bobs.

This is why the discovery that I can slip in and out of The London Library is super exciting…errr Agatha Christie? TS Elliot, Mrs M’s flower book and hundreds of classics all under one roof?

Free references to all the poisonous flowers I can find for a murder mystery whilst surrounded by highbrow moustaches?

Furtive fun for a friday to say the least. xxx

P.S