Whilst I was going to opt for the ‘poor me, I’ve been run off my feet’ approach, I feel that there are people out there who have seen me partying on, and could shoot me down as I beg your forgiveness for my Blog silence and cause of. If I were half the blogger that I’m aiming to be I’d have been all professional about myself and announced a little blog hiatus. Instead, I just fretted, ducked, dived but most of all prioritised as I’ve had GCSE’s, A Levels and a final Dissertation going on in my life. Aargh. Moving on, look at me wearing my navy blue Topshop tutu, last year’s fun purchase but others are around and so abound. Shoes and top thank you Asos, both last year, but not groundbreaking fashion items and therefore similar lurk on every high street and online website.
I went to an EU referendum/Birthday, party and glittered my way into the following day and became overnight, along with the rest of you a very tiny European citizen. Did not see that coming… Fashion will definitely send out it’s statement on that anon. I am wearing this year’s Mango metallic jacket which I love because it’s tailored and has biker jacket zips on the cuffs. All Saints leather biker jeans, last year but you can do this. This year’s Topshop Chelsea boots and a current always and forever, very simple Brandy Melville t shirt. I of course went to other places but feel that my outfits hovered somewhere in-between the two shown here, give or take sweatpants, trainers, denim jacket and jeans. When I am not in London I try to rip it up in Dorset, so that you don’t have to. On that subject walk this way…
I’m wondering if my compatriots will love me for lifting the lid on these two local treats that could easily elbow their way to pole positions in Brick Lane and Borough Market without breaking a sweat.
Firstly we have Bridport Vintage Market. So very, very good to the point where two West Hampstead resident friends of mine got ridiculously excited and asked if they could borrow my horse trailer to ferry prospective purchases back to London. Here is lots of stuff that wouldn’t mind visiting Portobello but frankly prefer the sea views. Browsing, you cannot but trip over the piles of happy eaters spilling out of The Red Brick Cafe. You will be served salads grown in adjoining fields, eat sausages once seen grazing on the outlying meadows and eat cakes and sundries made from organic and really, truly, happy eggs. Add on to that plethora of consumerist delights the now up and sprinting Bridport Food Market. Here you buy the freshest of everything that must be used quickly because it’s real produce without an irradiated bone in its body. Bloody fabulous!
Then I present my latest discovery ( where have I been all my life?) the Wednesday ‘book early to avoid disappointment ‘ Trill Farm lunch. Taste buds that may possibly have become complacent whilst processing the perfectly adequate supermarket foods ( carefully selected obviously, tasting quite nice but not really stretching the palate) suddenly become perky just because the garden to plate hop is 20 metres and 20 minutes in prep time. I ate gorgeously diverse salads that relied on their honest to goodness taste rather than a whoop-de-doo salad sauce. There were smatterings of sweated Swiss chard, flowery garden broccoli and mushrooms encased in the puffiest of hand rolled pastry. Lots and lots of seasonal food presented in an honestly relaxed and funky setting. Again, this little kitchen restaurant would be besieged if it were within any part of the London congestion zone. You can’t fail to notice the difference. I certainly can’t achieve that equation every day, but was fabulously happy to experience it at Trill Farm. Prepared and cooked by the really lovely chef Chris Onions. He’s heard them all by the way… After lunch you have to visit the little shop filled with oils, creams, potions and beautiful stationery. All produced by, on and with the Trill farm products, people and genius. Fun fact; this magical kingdom is reigned over by Romy Fraser of Neals Yard Remedies fame. I’m talking top stuff here.
Will you come to Dorset and walk a few miles in my shoes, be they high and pointy or low and shiny? Fools if you don’t .