la coco noire.

Last year after some festive Pinterest searching and a few too many mince pies, me and Mikey decided to embark on some light woodwork. Three hours later and covered in sawdust...Loggi was born. This year, an army of Loggis (read: 11 Loggis) descended upon my local town after we got our act together and sold a few at our local Christmas Fayre. Next year we are aiming for world domination - if we can find an electric chain saw that is...elbow grease is not the one.

You know sometimes when you're out and about and you briefly spot a couple who is just so YES. Who just look so right for each other and your heart does a little fuzzy flip of happiness that the world has brought two perfectly suited people together!? That is literally Sarah and Matty. Except this time they didn't flash past me in a supermarket or on the train. I got to the spend the whole diggin' DAY with them. And basque in the loveliness of all their friends and family. And eat a full 3 course dinner. And laugh way more than is socially acceptable for a wedding photographer to laugh at the speeches.

So, I'm spending the first evening of October dreaming about being back in Venice again. Specifically, being (relatively) tanned, having prosecco on tap and always having pizza within a 3 metre radius. There are so many incredible, splendid things I could say about Venice but the most splendid of them all is CALORIES. Because calories do not count when you're on holiday and they certainly don't count if it's upwards of 30 degrees outside. Everyone knows that. Case closed.

I don't think I need to blab on about how hot or how beautiful Venice is again in this post (you can find those posts here and here, respectively). Instead I'll tell you that we went out for dinner on Wednesday night and watched the sun set while tucking in pasta for me and sliced beef for Mikey. At least one of us was getting stuck into some typical Italian cuisine, huh!

In Venice you'll either be walking on foot or hopping onto a water taxi. Yep, a water taxi. Sounds fun, huh? Try going on one in mid July when the lovely idea of a water taxi turns into the horrendous reality of what is essentially a green house on water. The things are nasty hot in July and absolutely unbearable unless you can stand outside where there's a slight sea breeze. Me and Mikey would quite happily never set foot on one again.

Photo courtesy of The Guardian

So. After graduating on Monday (pictures might follow...if I can bring myself to share my dreadful hat-hair with the world..tbc) me and the fella went on a post grad holiday to the place where prosecco is cheaper than water and eating pizza and pasta non stop is actively encouraged, if not forced. I don't think there were many moments during our four day stay when we weren't either drinking prosecco, buying prosseco, or thinking about buying and drinking prosseco. And that is my kinda holiday. Amen.

Sometimes there's nothing like a cup of tea and snuggle with a Hugh Grant film. Other times there's nothing like a cold glass of wine in the garden with friends. And sometimes, there is nothing quite like a good old fashioned rock bun. And even better when they're light as fairies and interchangeable! Amen. I'm pretty sure that you're gonna wanna try these babies out.

Blueberries. The wonder babe of the fruit world. Likable to the Boris Jonhson of politics, the Cheryl Cole of pop and the Olivia Coleman of acting - just so much BABE. Almost too much babe to handle, perhaps. Topping you up with Vitamin C, lowering your blood pressure and fighting wrinkles (allegedly) are just three of the super saucy things that these little balls can do. And what better way to appreciate their inherent goodness than by muffining them to high heaven?

After a brief 2 week post uni celebratory hiatus (which included a total of 9 meals out and a hole in my purse the size of the Grand Canyon), I am ready to stop neglecting my blog...and start being a little more grown up with my $$$. You know, seeing as I'm no longer a student and, oh yeah - unashamedly yet undeniably unemployed.  SUCH FUN. So I'm whipping my blogging butt back into gear with a short and sweet post featuring pub grub, aka the grandmother of all English delicacies (the mother, of course, being the viccy sponge). 

Now I will be the first to admit that this little baby is the Beyonce-superbowl-half-time-show of sweet treats: you know deep down it's god damn bloody marvelous, but boy oh boy, it's just not photographing well. For those of you who haven't seen (excuse me, wut?!), this is what I'm talking 'bout:

Here's to me wishing that 'claiming benefits' in the UK could always look this good. Punderful comedy over. Back to business: Last Saturday I photographed a charity fashion show in aid of Cancer Research. Not only did I get very excited about the amount of clothing there was fleeting around, but I also had a mini happy heart-attack when the girls from Benefit started unloading their box loads of product ready to sell. [Sidenote: If you haven't heard about it already (and I really question your sub-rock habitation if you haven't) Benefit is hook, line and sinker into its May campaign, 'Bold is Beautiful'. This little baby is helping two brilliant charities; Refuge and Look Good Feel Better by donating 100% of its profit from brow wax services up and down the country. So if you haven't already, make sure you book in for some brow lovin'. If you think your brows are damned perfect already, maybe the complimentary Gimme Brow product will sway ya, Ms Princess Delevignite.]

Now, hit me in the face and call me petri-dish level shallow, but Benefit's shit is so pretty. I know that you should never judge a book by its cover, but in all honesty, I think I'd bathe myself in fox poo if fox poo was packaged this well. Needless to say, I forgot about the fashion show and spent a good 20 minutes stroking, breathing and fantasizing photographing the Benefit make up stall. From every angle. Every height. Every crevice. And of course I know that your average blogger-type can never see too many pictures of make up, so here you go. Behold the beauty of the Benefit make up stand.

Fashion show pictures will follow soon I promise, but for now. Breathe it in, ladies. Breathe. It. In.








NOW COME AND TALK TO ME ON TWITTER DAMNIT (and have a bonne soirée). Bisous. xx

In other less taste-bud-tingling news, I had my big old final French exam yesterday. Which resulted in me curling up in bed with lots of chocolate while mum brought me warm milk and stroked my back. Yep, it really went that well. (Note my sarcasm). Buuuuuut que sera sera and I'm so happy to have the next few weeks off to spend watching Keeping up with the Kardashians and Revenge and Gossip Girl and looking for a job and sorting out my future.

Say hello on Twitter, share some love on Bloglovin', or look at pictures of food on my Instagram! 

When The Betty Stamp tweeted a few weeks ago that she was making some sort of banoffee cookie extravaganza and would be sharing the recipe soon, I practically squealed. And then when she actually posted the recipe, I did squeal. No, seriously, I'm not joking:



I also made some of my own pretty naughty flapjacks, or a vanilla and chocolate marble cake if you're feeling fancy.
Come chat with me on Twitter or spread the love at Bloglovin or Instagram 

Oooooh the Victoria Sponge, the mother of all cakes. The quintessentially British masterpiece that deserves all the love of a million baby pugs. Rumour has it this lil beauty gained its name because Queen Vic herself enjoyed a slice, with a cup of tea from her golden throne no doubt. And if it's good enough for Queenie, then it's good enough for me! (And you).

I urge, no I insist, that you give this a go this weekend. Throw on a union jack dress à la Geri Halliwell, mix up some Pimms, and have a British baller of a weekend.