lucy chadwick and duffy

Their London home photographed by the Selby. What a terrific trove of wonderful little bits of wonder all wrapped up in an atmosphere of so disgustingly called domesticity. 

Hurray hurrah haroo for easter! These pictures are from 4th April 2009, WHAT a coincidence. Aw cute bunnies aw. 

What a picture! What a roof! What a life! Ain't got no furniture out there but isn't this all anybody wants? Not the roof terrace arty foliage sundial shit itself but the knowledge that the space is there? (Note: hate it so much when people say SPACE, can't cope with oh ya it's such a great space to write.. oh my god. But lack of a better word.)

 I am in love with anybody who drinks tea and is still genuinely cool, drinking it not in an ironic so old its young way or in a I need caffeine to finish my latest project that I'm carrying here in a big black portfolio way but because its fucking boss.

Wonderful. 

In other news: my mother has taken to using the word 'nesh' regularly. It made the occasional special appearance through childhood but now it's back with a kick. NESH. Who the fuck says that? From what I can gather it means cold. As in, "I'm very nesh." It makes me feel so weird. I really wish she hadn't said it. It says 'I was invented in the 80s along with mesh and I was very trendy and stylish SLANG then until all my peeps grew up and got lives, so now am making a reappearance under the guise of loveable quirky retro phrase to be a treasured classic.' Well no. It's not really is it.