From reporter to Supreme

This was a makeover I had a while ago, but I thought I would post what I wrote now, as I really enjoyed it!

When I was a child, my favourite plaything was my dressing up box, as it allowed me to transform myself into different characters using a hat, scarf or old shirt.

Now that I am in my 20s, nothing has changed, and I still love fancy dress, much to the despair of my friends who often have to think up ideas for one of my many costume parties.

So imagine my delight when I was given the chance to have a Supreme makeover as part of The Story of The Supremes From the Mary Wilson Collection exhibition.

Wearing an outfit taken from a recent 60s party I headed to the Assembly Rooms for my Motown facelift.

Having seen hairstyles from the decade I knew that I was in for a completely different look from my normal style.

On arrival, I told Artizan owner Phillip Thompson that I wanted to go extreme, with really big hair.

He needed no persuasion, and the ferocious backcombing began.

Sitting in a haze of hairspray, with Baby Love playing in the background, I could almost believe I had been transported back more than 40 years, and was getting ready for my debut on stage.

Half a can of hairspray, and 30 hair grips later my hair was transformed, and I had gained an extra three inches in height.
However, in the style of all television makeover shows I was not allowed to look in a mirror until my make-up had been completed.
Freelance make-up artist Lydia Parker told me she would be using lots of dark eye shadow and eyeliner to make my eyes bigger.

With my transformation from reporter to Supreme complete, I was allowed to look in the mirror and did not recognise myself.

The person staring back at me looked like someone who was ready for a big night out on the town in the 1960s.
Now all I need is singing lessons for those Motown classics...

Review of The Petersham, Richmond.

As a child my favourite books were about princesses, and I always dreamed about becoming one.

Well after one nights stay at The Petersham Hotel, in Richmond, I feel one step closer to that dream.

Pulling up to the majestic hotel with my partner Joe believed I had stepped straight into the pages of my childhood books, as the grand building towered above us.

Almost straight away we were met by a porter, who insisted on carrying the majority of our bags inside.

Here the grandeur of the exterior was almost forgotten as we took in the plush carpets, chandelier and winding staircase.

Our room was just as grand, with a large marbled bathroom, large bed and private balcony overlooking the River Thames. And being greeted by a bottle of champagne made the experience even more magical.

 The restaurant at The Petersham is advertised as being one of the finest in London, and that is certainly no exaggeration. With views of the River Thames you can enjoy fine food in stunning surroundings. Headed up by acclaimed chef Alex Bentley, the menu features a variety of British classics, including duck, salmon and pheasant. Mine and Joe’s seared duck was delicious, as were the starters and deserts either side. All were cooked to perfection, with the individual flavours highlighted.

For drinks after dinner the hotel lounge provides the perfect setting. With plush armchairs and sofas I was able to relax with a cocktail from the extensive list. Joe chose a gin and tonic, which he highly enjoyed.

A mark of a good hotel is its staff, and by the service we received I would say The Petersham deserves five stars. Our glasses were barely empty when we were asked if we would like another, and the waiter service in the restaurant was impeccable.

Our stay in Richmond included visits to Kew Gardens and Hampton Court Palace. Both are well worth a visit. Kew Gardens showcases the beauty nature, with plants of all size and variety. Children can enjoy the freedom of the large grounds, while adults learn more about the wildlife.

Hampton Court Palace

Highlights include a visit to King Henry VIII kitchen and a tour around the magestic palace gardens. For those seeking an adventure the maze is well worth a visit. With its tall hedges and winding paths it is easy to lose yourself there. However the sense of achievement when you reach the centre is immense.

I was thoroughly impressed with my stay in Richmond, and enjoyed being treated like a princess for a day.

An overnight stay for two at The Petersham costs £79 per person, and includes a three course dinner, with a full English breakfast the next day.

For more information visit www.petershamhotel.co.uk or call 020 8940 7471.

Tickets to Kew Gardens £13.50 for adults, £13.50 concessions, and free for children.

To find out more visit www.kew.org, or call 020 8332 5655.

Hampton Court Palace tickets are £15.40 for adults, £12.65 concessions, £7.70 for children under 16,  and free for children under five.

For more information visit www.hrp.org.uk/HamptonCourtPalace or call 0844 482 7777

My favourite poem - The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Ever since I first read this poem in my English A'Level class I have loved it. So I thought I would share it with you all. Its quite long, and is written in four parts, so I have just included my favourite bit, part 1.

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."

Shoes glorious shoes - the story of a shoe addict.

Here is the entry that those of you who know me well will have been expecting on this blog…..shoes.  It is safe to say that I adore shoes. I love them all, from the towering stilettos I wear on a night out, to the pumps I go shopping in, and the converse I wear when I decide to go for a walk (hey, sometimes it happens!)

My love of shoes dates back to the time I learnt to walk. This also coincides with the time my sister was born, in March 1987. At 18 months old I knew what I liked and what I didn’t. My mum often tells me about the time she took me to buy my first pair of shoes, a milestone in any shoe lovers life! It was a few weeks before Jodie was born, so mum was heavily pregnant. Sitting me down in Clarks she found a pair of round toed black shoes and decided they would do. Well, I threw an almighty strop until she gave in and bought me a pair in red as well! At the time all the fashionable 18 month olds were wearing red shoes, so I would have been a social outcast without them! The shoes paid off, and when my long suffering dad took me to the hospital to visit my new baby sister I spent the whole time running around the ward listening to the noise of my shoes tapping on the floor and admiring the colour. Dad was not amused….

In my early years I experimented with footwear. There were the gems, like the trainers with purple and pink flowers, and the purple jelly sandals. However there were also the disasters, mainly the paper shoes I made which got soggy when I went out in the garden in the rain, and the roller-skates that were the cause of many accidents!

It was a few years later (10 to be precise) that I discovered the high heeled shoe. These gems had been hidden from me under my mum’s bed. Looking at them my 10 year old self realised they were something special. However trying them on did not go to plan! Unstable on my feet, wearing shoes that were too big for me, I crashed into a table, knocking it over and grazing my knees. Determined not to give up I managed to stagger across the room, and so began my heel wearing life!

Starting secondary school was the start of another battle with my mum over footwear. These battles happened a lot, with the battlefield being Clarks shoe shop. They start because I happen to be very unlucky for a shoe lover and have extremely narrow feet. Meaning that shoes in Clarks that fit me were a limited variety. The arguments usually panned out like this…..

Mum: ‘Here are some lovely shoes for you’.

Me: ‘Yuck mum, they are not cool, I want these.’

Mum: ‘You are not wearing shoes like that to school, the heels are too big! You will break your neck!’

Me: ‘Well at least my feet will look cool when I’m in hospital.

Mum: No, and that’s final.’

*Laura commences sulking*

An amazing thing happened as I got older…..I was allowed to chose my own shoes (I also had to pay for them out of my wages from my Saturday job in Superdrug) I am afraid this freedom went to my head, and my shoes collection grew dramatically! I remember trips to Bristol on the bus, when I would spend my weeks wages on shoes. When I got to the age of 18, and left home for University my poor dad bore the brunt of my shoe addiction, as he had to lug bag after bag of shoes into my halls. Once again…..he was not amused.

Now, at the grand old age of 25 I am still very much a shoe lover! One highlight was meeting shoe legend Jimmy Choo, my idol! I failed to get any free shoes from him, but he did complement me on my shoes. Little did he know that the shoes were the results of four hours the previous night staring at my shoes trying to decide what to wear to impress him!

I will leave you with a quote I found about shoes, which I feel sums up my relationship with them:

“Shoes cover and protect our feet when we walk. Shoes hold the memory of where we have walked, run or skipped. The shoes get worn and take on the shape and imprint of the feet. They can be the object of desire.”