Interior Inspiration: The Baby Shelfie

As the end to our kitchen renovations draws tantalizingly near, I've shifted my focus to the nursery, where I'm hoping to move our little one imminently (though every night of sleeping next to him in his co-sleeping crib, I think to myself, 'Just one more night!').

It's pretty blank, save for a changing table, a single sofa bed, a rug, and a toy box, but we've ordered his "big boy cot" (a present from Granny, my mother-in-law) and I'm hoping to replace the framed poster on the wall where his cot will go (so not baby-friendly!) with wallpaper and some kind of soft wall-hanging (I've been trawling Etsy, but if you have any links, send them my way!).

So, I was super excited to get this bookshelf from Great Little Trading Company, which I'd pined after for quite a while. 

I built it myself (which basically involved putting a few screws in and using an Allen key once) and basically felt like Rosie the Riveter (though I waited for John to get home and mount it on the wall because I don't trust myself with a drill).

Annoyingly, one of the rods arrived warped, but I've rotated it in such a way that it doesn't show too much (I don't think). I wrote to Great Little Trading Company and asked for a replacement, but since they didn't have spares, they gave me the option of picking out the part I needed from a new set (and then returning that set to them - yawn, who has time for that?!) or opting for a £10 gift card ... I took the easy option, as I can see myself buying something else from them down the line (I love their toy boxes - we have a little pull along one).

Which leads me to the question ... what was your favorite book as a child? We've been reading 'Goodnight Moon' every single night (which my mom and dad read to me when I was small) ... and I keep skipping the same page every single night ('Goodnight nobody, goodnight mush.').

Let me know in the comments below!

An Ode to the Emoji

This morning, around 4 a.m., seized by a wave of hayfever, I dangled half-in, half-out of bed as my nose dripped steadily and reached for a box of tissues. I felt around for my phone and, squinting, began to look at that messages that had trickled through in response to my Instagram Stories the night before.

"Your new bathroom looks great!" said one.

"Floor goals!" read another.

"Omg, you must be so excited!" said a third.

With one eye shut, I began to type replies using only my right thumb: heart emoji, I tapped, in response to the first message. Blushing smiley face, I replied to another. Two-raised hands, I answered to the third.

Satisfied that I had conveyed the appropriate level of enthusiasm, I dropped my phone and tried to fall back asleep, sneezing four or five times in the process and causing John to jerk the covers over his head.

Emoji(s)* have become my lazy way of responding to practically anything and anyone. Sometimes, I use them to enhance a message ("Omg just dropped my dinner on the floor noooooo!!!" Followed by five crying emoji(s), five being sufficient to express my current state of distress), but most of the time ... I just use it as my preferred method of communication. Why bother forming a complete, coherent sentence when my exact thoughts and feelings can be summed up in a single, cute graphic? My most overused emoji(s) are:

1) the laughing face with tears streaming out of the eyes

2) the tilted laughing face with tears streaming out of the eyes

3) the see-no-evil monkey

4) the say-no-evil monkey

5) the red heart.

If I could hold up different emoji(s) on signs instead of speaking to people at work, I'd do it. If I could communicate with new people I've recently met at parties solely using emoji(s), I'd love it. I'm anti-social; I dislike talking to people and looking them in the eye. I'd prefer to respond to the question, "And what do you do for a living?" with the flamenco dancer emoji, followed by the poop emoji. No, I don't know what that combination means either, but it would make a great (emoji) conversation starter.

"Grow up," the hate-readers of this blog will say. Actually, I think my over-zealous use of emoji(s) is a particularly mature approach to handling the bazillion messages I receive every day from friends, family members, and followers alike. I want to make sure that I'm responding to every person who takes the time to send me a compliment or question, and, well, emoji(s) are just darn useful for this task.

If you don't believe me, ask American data engineer, Fred Benenson, who was quoted in this article by the Independent, saying: "I've been fascinated with the amount of meaning you can convey with such simple characters. Telling stories, movie recaps, expressing complex emotion – it's partially about the frivolity, but it's also about engaging a part of your brain which uses symbolic and visual thinking, something that I love to do. I also think it has the potential to bridge language barriers."

Ah, that final sentiment about bridging language barriers rings so true: my 92-year-old grandma is a WhatsApp whizz and sends me numerous messages throughout the day from her home in Hong Kong. I may not be able to read the complex string of Chinese attached to her selfie in the mall, but I get the laughing face with tears streaming out of its eyes which follows. This morning, I responded to one such photo with the heart-eye emoji (three, to be exact - it's grandma!).

What about you? Are you an emoji over-user/abuser?

*Note: there is debate over the correct plural form of emoji. Some say "emoji", some say "emojis". I'll leave this up to you to bicker over.

My Birthday (Week!)

My birthday was last weekend and - after feeling utterly spoiled with meals out, massages, business class flights, and a beautiful stay at the Taj West End hotel during our visit to India the week before - I asked John to cancel my birthday lunch reservations and instead, I stayed home watching bad Hallmark movies, wrapping Christmas presents, and buying our Christmas tree together. It was perfect.

But then, my college roommate arrived to London the next day and we spent the afternoon together, browsing the Christmas market in Greenwich before enjoying a homemade Sunday roast (thanks to John!), before she presented me with this beautiful birthday present: a jug from Nom Living's blue and white marble collection, which I love.

It looks lovely when displayed next to the rest of our blue and white collection, but it also has a very practical purpose as a water jug on our dinner table.

More importantly, catching up with Deborah was probably one of the best birthday treats I could have had. As we sat chatting and reminiscing about our college days over a lobster roll at The Delaunay, I thought to myself, 'This is a true friend - someone I'll have in my life forever."

But my bittersweet goodbye was short-lived, as I welcomed my parents into our home once again the weekend after Deborah's visit.

The Sunday after they arrived, I had a belated birthday brunch at Berners Tavern. a beautiful restaurant under the direction of Michelin-starred chef, Jason Atherton (of Pollen Street Social, where I had reluctantly cancelled my birthday lunch reservation), in Fitzrovia.

Aren't the interiors gorgeous? I wore head-to-toe Zara, I've just realized - I loved the frills on the sleeves of this dress when I saw it in the store! A fun twist on an otherwise fairly conservative pattern/shape.

At Berners, I was super greedy and ordered a crab omelette and split the Nutella, banana and hazelnut pancakes with Udita. They were sublime.

After our decadent brunch, we headed toward Liberty to see the Christmas decorations (and my tolerance for crowds was severely tested - ugh!) and I couldn't resist taking a snap of the over-Instagrammed flower shop ...

... before heading home to unwrap my presents from Udita and Rebecca, which they both bought for their "Instagram-worthiness". They know me so well.

I actually shrieked when I opened this beautiful box of Maitre Choux pastries, after pining for them for so long. Not only are they (definitely) Instagram-worthy, but I can confirm that they're also insanely tasty. Each choux is filled with a flavored filling (not just cream!) and - had I eaten them fresh that day (oops), instead of waiting for the "perfect light" to photograph them the next - they probably would have tasted even better.

The "Christmas Cheeky Chestnut" was probably my favorite, but my parents and John loved the "Red Love Eclair", which was certainly the prettiest. The "Hazelnut and Milk Chocolate Treasure" looked like a solid block of gold, and the "Persian Pistachio Eclair" had a delicious pistachio filling. The ultimate luxury treats!

I also fell in love with the tiny, delicate trinket dishes Rebecca gave to me from Anthropologie - one of my favorite US stores for clothes, accessories, and homeware (which, thankfully, made its way over to the UK a few years ago). As I've mentioned in past posts, I tend to leave my rings and earrings everywhere, so I put a little dish in every room (and nearly every surface) to keep me from losing expensive jewelry (seriously - don't ever buy me diamond earrings!). I admired the tiny London-themed dish at Rebecca's flat last time I visited, and I think she took note, because I received my very own Parisian-themed bowl.

Finally, I was treated to these beautiful, luxe travel accessories from John and my parents: a pair of Bang & Olufsen "Play" headphones (the earpieces are lambskin, so they've kept my ears nice and toasty this winter, and they also fold in, which make them perfect for stashing away in my bag when I'm not using them) and a gorgeous Smythson travel wallet, which I've had my eye on for quite a while now.

So ... that's how I ended up celebrating my birthday. I intended to do something low-key, but in the end, my friends and family spoiled me silly. With Christmas just around the corner, there'll be plenty more celebrations to come - I can't wait! (I'll probably have party/presents withdrawal in January ...)

Vote For Angloyankophile in the UK Blog Awards 2017!

Friends! A sweet reader has nominated Angloyankophile for the UK Blog Awards 2017 (thank you!). If you have a minute, I'd love to have your vote in the Lifestyle and Travel categories, which you can do here. Voting closes on December 19th, and I was shortlisted a couple years back, so it would be fantastic to have a chance at winning this time (fingers crossed!).

Thanks so much.

xo

God's Own Junkyard: A Neon Wonderland

Last weekend, John and I went exploring and ticked off one of the places on my "must-see" list in London: God's Own Junkyard. I've read about this legendary establishment in dozens of magazines and blogs and wanted to see it in all its neon glory for myself!

Isn't it wonderful?

Originally owned by the late neon sign designer and collector Chris Bracey, the shop is now run by his family. It houses a collection which includes neon backdrops that Chris had been commissioned to make for Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut and four Batman films - which is pretty incredible!

As if the shop couldn't be any cooler (throngs of hipsters were sipping gin cocktails at the gin palace next door), the Rolling Scones Café (the. best. name. ever.) is tucked away in the back and in the outdoor courtyard, where I nearly ran into a woman carrying a tiered cake-stand filled with scones and jam. Probably the coolest place to have afternoon tea in London. Sign me up, please (pun intended)!

There's such a sense of happiness when you step into a neon wonderland like God's Own Junkyard, with the fluorescent signs hanging just above your head. We marvelled at all the choices, before John proposed picking one for our new home, as a "treat".

"Where would we put it?" I asked dubiously, while he started getting ahead of himself and talking about motion sensor switches (I mean, honestly ...).

Here was his pick:

A retro sign for the lido (a term I'd never heard of until I moved to the UK) that he fell in love with at first glance.

As for me?

Thrills. All the thrills.

If choosing neon signs is a reflection of your personality, well, then our choices had me and John down to a T. His was all about the calm, cool, and collected vibe and mine's all attention-seeking bright lights (literally), colorful bulbs, and ... thrills. How can you not love this flashy arrow?!

Have you been to God's Own Junkyard? Which sign would you choose?

10 Irrational Fears That All Londoners Have

1. Stepping on a razor blade, which then proceeds to slice open your foot. You get tetanus, amongst other random diseases and spend an interminably long time hooked up to IVs while doctors try to ascertain what's actually wrong with you. 

I mean, is it just me? I totally got something stuck in the sole of my shoe a while back and, when I looked at it closer, it looked like a razor blade. Yesterday morning when I was walking into work in my Tory Burch espadrilles (NOT smart, because those espadrilles weren't made for walking / that's not what they'll do / one of these days ... oh, forget it), I totally saw a razor blade on the ground (who does that? Leave razor blades lying around, I mean?) and totally thought it'd slice right into the bottom of my shoe.

2. Getting trapped/crushed under a double-decker bus that tips over as it's turning. 

I think I inherited this fear from my mother, who used to warn me against sitting on the top deck of double-decker buses (whatever, she's the first to scamper up those stairs now when she visits London). The other day, I crossed the street with a friend and stood on the island to wait for the traffic to stop (I really should have waited for the green man, I KNOW). Two buses came roaring past at breakneck speed, turning the corner ... and yeah, I might have been a little nervous.

3. Falling onto the tube tracks just as a train pulls in.

I hate, hate, hate standing on a crowded platform waiting for the next tube train to arrive. I have this thing though, about turning my body slightly sideways, so that I'm standing perpendicular (rather than parallel) to the track. I feel like I'm less likely to lose my balance in case I'm pushed or shoved - in reality, it probably wouldn't make a difference.

4. Falling into the canal. Or the Thames.

Just ... ew.

5. Getting hit by one of those courier cyclists (or any cyclist, for that matter) who like to run red lights.

Now, this is likely to happen, as I've had enough close shaves to know that it CAN happen. Doesn't matter if you've got a green man and they've got a red light, these cyclists obey a higher law, apparently, and not only do they have a death wish for themselves - they've got one for you too. It's all you can do to not swear loudly under your breath, while they flip you the finger as they nonchalantly race away. Oh yeah, you're so cool, buddy.

6. Getting crushed by a mob of tourists on Oxford Street.

Question: what are you doing on Oxford Street in the first place?

7. Having your toenail ripped off in the summer when you're wearing sandals by one of those wheelie suitcases that people INSIST on dragging behind them in the busiest parts of London.

Don't laugh. This happened to someone I know. Not so funny now, is it?

8. Throwing up/feeling sick/fainting/being unable to control some other bodily function while on the tube.

Definitely know a few people who have done one or all of the things above.

9. Falling down the really long escalator at Angel tube station.

I fell up the escalator at Embankment once. I deserved it. I was trying to sidestep a man and tripped up, slamming my chin into the moving step. As I scrambled to get up, I was extremely paranoid that a piece of my clothing would get sucked into the stair/gap on the side. The worst part? I was carrying my violin case on my back at the time, so I looked like a turtle that couldn't get up. My pride was lost that day, people, and I'm not sure I ever got it back.

10. Feeling like you're underpaying for food/coffee/sustenance and then doubting the quality of the said food/coffee/sustenance.

"What? This cappuccino's only £4?!? There MUST be something wrong with it."

What are your irrational fears about where you live?

National Stationery Week Spotlight: Chroma Stationery

It's National Stationery Week in the UK (yes, this is a thing!) and I am the biggest hoarder of stationery ever.

My obsession started when I was five. My dad took me to the little stationery shop below my grandma's apartment in Happy Valley, Hong Kong, which was every little girl's dream because they stocked every single Hello Kitty product imaginable. With the pocket money my dad gave me, I'd buy sticker books, journals, pens (SO many pens!), erasers, pencil sharpeners, pencil cases (SO many pencil cases!), and basically whatever I could get my hands on. 

In junior high, I'd buy stationery from Borders and by high school, I was into Papyrus. College was all about creamy, white monogrammed card stock (so East Coast, so preppy!) and as an adult, I love anything quirky, pretty, or just a little bit fabulous (see here for examples - I'm especially a fan of Rifle Paper Co.).

But after arriving in the UK, my love for stationery waned: I couldn't find any indie shops I liked (although Paperchase stocks some fantastic indie designers and artists) and "proper" stationery (think Smythson) was totally out of my price range. So I stock up whenever I go back to the States.

But then I heard about Chroma Stationery and their notebooks were a game changer. Specializing in personalized notebooks made with good quality materials, Chroma is all about color and the personal connection we have to stationery. After all, its founder, Gabi, named all the notebooks after her friends and family!

It was so difficult to select from their beautiful colors and bindings, but I chose the unlined, spiral bound "Daniel" notebook with silver embossing to jot down all my blog post ideas and thoughts.

And it's gorgeous - a refreshing step away from my usual array of black, boring Moleskines.

If you're a stationery fanatic like me and want to support an indie stationery designer, then Chroma is a great place to start.

What about you? Do you love writing letters as much as I do? Do you carry a notebook around with you? What are your favorite stationery brands?

The gorgeous Daniel notebook was generously provided to me by Chroma, a company that I love. Thank you for supporting the brands that support Angloyankophile. Stop by their online shop to see more pretty choices!

A Weekend in Colo(u)r

Hey. How was your weekend? I had a colo(u)rful one, and would love to share some photos, if you'd like to see!

You know those languid, lazy Saturday mornings, where you sleep until you think you can't sleep anymore, and then you stretch out underneath your thick covers and revel in the sunlight streaming through your windows? I had one of those mornings. Until I remembered that I was late to meet Robin for lunch, so I hopped out of bed, threw on some hole-y jeans, grabbed my mom's bright red vintage Dooney & Bourke, and painted on a slick of red lipstick before heading up to Jones & Sons in Dalston.

After we had our fill of pancakes and I overdosed on bacon (Robin's veggie, so she passed hers on to me ... I kind of don't want to see, taste or smell bacon for a few months) and we chatted all things expat and friendship and writing (she's the best at that), I met John in Dalston before heading up toward Walthamstow to explore a park.

I spotted the Hackney Peace Carnival Mural while waiting for the bus and couldn't help snapping a pic ...

It's crazy how a piece of art can make you start imagining sounds ... does the same thing happen to you when you look at this? It sounds so loud and joyous to me, even though I can't hear anything!

On our way to Walthamstow, we saw a sketchy amusement park (you know, the kind that's just set up on the side of the road somewhere and the people running it are a bit scary looking?) and, for some reason, I just had to stop by.

So we got off the bus, paid the £1 entrance fee, bought some tokens, and ran to the elephant ride. I know. I'm an adult, I promise.

We didn't know that you had to press the pedal by your feet in order to raise the elephant, so we were going around in circles at ground level until one of the children's parents shouted at us through cupped hands, "PRESS THE PEDAL! PRESS THE PEDAL!" "WHAT?" I mouthed back at him. Then the ticket collector got involved. "What are you DOING?" he shouted at us, hands clutching his head (a bit dramatic, right?). "PRESS THE PEDAL!" My bad. I've not been on an elephant ride lately.

Then we moved on to my personal favorite, The Ghost Train:

As a kid, those rides always seemed to last forever (while I clutched my dad's arm in sheer terror), but as an adult, it's all over in about 5 seconds and you wonder where your £3 went. Sigh.

After buying ice cream and cotton candy (I know, we went all the way), we ended up in the bumper cars (or "Dodgems", as they're called here, apparently - another instance where John was like, "Let's try the Dodgems!" And I was like, "What?" Him: "Dodgems!" Me: "What?" Repeat x 25 times), which I did not enjoy and remembered why I didn't like them when I was aged 5, either.

I disliked it so much, I removed all the color from this photo:

So, there.

Here's to colo(u)rful weekends, spontaneous moments, blue skies and sunshine. I hope you have a great week!

Sri Lanka: Baby Sea Turtles (Enough Said.)

It's Monday. And I know how you all feel about Mondays. So, to cheer you up, here are some pictures of newborn and baby sea turtles we held during a whirlwind visit to the Kosgoda Sea Turtle Hatchery and Conservation Project in Sri Lanka.

To protect turtle eggs from poachers and other predators on Sri Lankan beaches, the hatchery purchases eggs from fishermen at a higher rate than what they'd receive from selling them on at markets for consumption. The eggs are then brought back to the hatchery, where they incubate in the sand until they're ready to hatch and ... voila. Newborns are then released back into the sea as soon as possible (at night-time!), but the hatchery is also home to some sea turtles that haven't been so lucky in life: those that are maimed (e.g. amputees from fishing net accidents), blind, or have some other disfiguration which would prevent them from surviving in the ocean, are cared for at the hatchery for the rest of their lives.

The one I'm holding in my hand above was born that morning. I was told that she liked the heat of palms, so she kind of just stretched out sweetly on my hand and didn't move too much, except to squirm a bit here and there, her flipper curling slightly over the curve of my palm. Love.

I was so sad to put her back in her tank! I couldn't stop looking at the photos I'd taken when we climbed back into the car. I wanted to play with them for forever.

John's was a bit feistier - attempting to paddle his way across his palm. I'm not sure that I've seen anything cuter than this.

Sri Lanka is home to five species of sea turtles: the Green turtle (most common), the Loggerhead turtle (rare), the Hawksbill turtle (named for its narrow, bird-like beak, and very rare), the Olive Ridley turtle (endangered), and the Leatherback turtle (which is considered to be critically endangered). Aside from the eggs, which are bought and sold on the black market, turtles are often killed for their beautiful shells to make jewellery, hair slides, and combs (tortoiseshell, anyone? Yep, that's where they come from, sadly).

We saw some of these unimaginably gorgeous shells when we visited some of the older babies in their tanks, which were just about to be released back into the ocean.

Aren't their patterns beautiful? It's incomprehensible to me how anyone could kill such a sweet and gentle creature for consumption or vanity.

This sweet girl that John and I held was 17-months old, but already quite heavy! We were told to gently support her neck with our fingers, and she timidly, languidly, stretched her head out from under her shell to explore while we held her in amazement.

I'll leave you with my favorite shot - a newborn that was bewildered (and probably alarmed, poor thing!) to be taken out of the water, flippers flailing.

So, happy Monday.

The Ten Most Instagrammed Images (And Their Hashtags)

Instagram is probably my favorite social media channel: that perfect square (or occasional rectangle, if I want to keep things in their original landscape format!) conveniently edits out everything you don't want others to see and captures just what you want to focus on. Deceptive? Maybe. Anti-social? Often. Narcissistic? Yes.

But it's fun.

In my defense, I'm a really "visual" person, so I love finding inspiration on Instagram - even more so than Pinterest. I typically use Pinterest for ideas, but for every day imagery, I'm constantly on Instagram. I love to see what other bloggers have been up to and I follow a lot of American fashion bloggers (SongofStyle, WeWoreWhat, HelloFashionBlog, KendieEveryday being a few of my favorites!) - plus, there's just some beautiful photography out there.

But after Instagramming for a couple of years,it seems like the same (or similar) images keep popping up in my feed. Below are the most popular shots (and their accompanying hashtags) ... and the ones that I'm guilty of overdoing.

All. The. Time.

1. The Latte/Flat White Shot #foamart #coffee #latteart #flatwhite

 
You know the drill: you've met your #BFF for brunch (have you noticed? It's always brunch in Instagram-land, never breakfast - no matter how early it is. If it's really breakfast, then you'd better have granola, yogurt, fresh blueberries, and chia seeds on standby) and when your flat white arrives, you can't resist snapping a quick photo with your phone.  Even better: when the table's been "styled" with fresh flowers. Eye roll (yes, I'm rolling my eyes at myself - that's the point of this post).

2. The Eggs Benedict/Royale/Florentine Shot #eggs #eggsbenedict #eggsroyale #eggsflorentine #brunch #food #foodie #instafood

Continuing on the brunch theme, I'll sit back on Saturday mornings and wait for images of runny, orange egg-yolk to saturate my Instagram feed. WHY DOES EVERYONE ORDER THE SAME DAMN THING? IN DIFFERENT PLACES? BUT AT THE SAME TIME? INCLUDING ME???  Btw, that eggs royale pictured above was seriously overpriced. My wallet hurt more than those eggs that were being sliced into.

(Sidenote: I can just about bring myself to use the #foodie hashtag in some of my posts, though I do gag a little when I do it, but I can't do #foodporn or #foodgasm. Gross. My fingers refuse to tap out the words.) 

3. The Macaron Shot #macarons #dessert #sweets

Doesn't matter if there's one (or a thousand, as it seemed like when I stumbled upon this stand in Borough Market); if they're behind glass or on a plate; if they're being sold in England or America or France, macarons are the most Instagrammable dessert to grace social media. I don't know what it is about these meringue-based almond flour confections, but they're everywhere. Oh wait, yes, I do - they're pretty (and delicious). They're also expensive (let's be honest here), so they're seen as a luxury and a treat.

4. The Ramen Shot #ramen #food #foodie #instafood #instagood 

Funny story: I had a spontaneous ramen date with a friend of mine on Monday, and I Instagrammed my bowl of tonkotsu ramen while I was there. By the time I'd gotten home, two more people in my feed had Instagrammed their bowls of ramen at the same restaurant - taken at different times. Funny or crazy? What's Instagram's (my) obsession with ramen? Oh yes, it's "trendy" and nice to look at. Well, I'm waiting for congee to make a comeback. Oh, but wait - it never will, because it's just ... white. With unidentifiable ingredients floating in it (but so delicious).

5. The Oh-Look-It's-Just-Me-Holding-A-Product-In-My-Hand Shot #icecream #saltedcaramel #food #foodie

This is perfect for, when - excited by a new discovery (as I was when I discovered this £6 tub of Jude's Salted Caramel ice cream, which was worth every pence) - you want to share it with EVERYONE, but just want a photo against a flat, white background. I see a lot of beauty bloggers do this, which is effective, since all the focus is on the product and nothing else.

6.  The Outfit-From-Above Shot #fwis #ootd #widn #fbloggers

It's tricky to try and pretend that taking a photo like this isn't narcissistic, when it totally is (guilty!). But sometimes (and believe me, it's rare), I'm like, "Hey! I like what I'm wearing today. What the heck - I'm going to share." And then this happens.

7. The Watch/Bracelet Shot #armcandy #wristcandy #accessories #fbloggers 

Actually, I took this photo for a serious post that I wrote, but I see drool-worthy images of bloggers' stacks of bracelets and watches nearly every day and then it's like someone pressed a button in my head that goes, "MUST. GO. TO. TOPSHOP. NOW." Bad, right?

8. The Landscape Shot #spring #bluesky #country

You know this one. Where the famous "rule of thirds" is invoked and you see a whole lot of sky and it's outrageously blue and the grass is outrageously green because the person behind the shot (in this case, me) has clearly played with the saturation and the brightness and the contrast? That one. Everything looks so peachy keen and dandy in this shot, doesn't it? Until you realize that the person taking the photo (me, again) has stepped in a cow pie and tripped over a turnstile because she's wearing borrowed Hunter boots that are two sizes too big for her. #reallife

9. The Flower Shot #flowers #floral #spring  

Flowers. Of any kind (BUT MOSTLY TULIPS). At any stage (BUT MOSTLY TULIPS IN FULL BLOOM). Taken from above. Or the side. Or the front. Or the back (do flowers have "backs"?). Mostly at Liberty.

10. The Cloud Shot #clouds #sky #cloudp*rn

 
Just clouds. In the sky. Doing their thing. Yet, attractively so.

Are you on Instagram? Are you guilty of any of the above offences? I'm at @angloyankophile, if you'd like to see!

Have a Beautiful Weekend.

Have a beautiful weekend. What are your plans?

On Saturday, I'll be performing with a few members of the Royal Orchestral Society at Tottenham Court Road tube station as part of Bach in the Subways Day 2015 (and fulfilling my dream of busking in London, although I was seriously chastised on Twitter by the organizers for using the term "busking", since we are supposed to "give the gift of Bach", not accept money for it - eye roll). Nerdy and not the least bit cool. If you're in the area and want to stop by, there's more information here.

I've just frozen my butt off by going outside to try to catch a glimpse of the solar eclipse, but London smog has eclipsed the eclipse. Did you notice anything different?!

Other than that, I kind of want to start packing early for our trip to Sri Lanka next weekend - I'm so excited! We're staying here, here, and here. If you have any tips, I'd love to know!

xo

Sundays

Hey. How was your weekend? We had such a sunny one here in London! And while I was inside for quite a lot of it (more on that later), I still managed to sit outside and get a good dose of Vitamin D for as long as I could.

Do you ever get the Sunday blues? You know, feeling a little down in the dumps/panicky as soon as 4:00 p.m. rolls around and you realize that you haven't done as much as you wanted to and that your morning alarm is just a few precious hours away? No? Just me then.

I spent yesterday hunting for things to cheer myself up and it turns out that there were plenty.

I arrived home on Friday to find the sweet bouquet (don't you love the box it came in?!) underneath the stairs for me ... it was from Udita, just to "bring some cheer", as she said in the card. But the funniest thing was - the card had been handwritten by the florist in St. John's Wood (Drake Algar, in case you're wondering) but it contained some of our funniest and most cringe-worthy inside jokes! I can't believe the florist had to write that all out by hand ... it definitely gave me a good laugh.

And ...

Mother's Day in the UK is next weekend. It's totally confusing for me because Mother's Day in the US is in May! I try to send my mom a Mother's Day card on both dates, but I found this sweet one pictured above at De Beauvoir Deli (I think I'm their biggest customer lately), which I plan to send to my mother-in-law, who some of you know is like a second mother to me.

And ...

I never splurge on ice cream, but ... salted caramel? Yes, please. This cost me a pretty penny at £6 (I balk at spending £4 on Ben & Jerry's), but it was worth it. Or, as my friend Laura commented over on Instagram, I'm worth it. At least, I keep telling myself that. Ha!

What's the most expensive ice cream you've ever splashed out on? Also: pistachio gelato in brioche in Sicily.

Have a great week.

Travel Link-Up: Lost In Translation

I racked my brain for this month's travel link-up for stories on the theme of "lost in translation" - I really did. I scratched my head, scrolled through emails, recounted dozens of travel experiences ... but no funny/entertaining/bizarre or even mildly amusing anecdotes came to mind.

Well ...

There was the time my mom and I travelled to St. Petersburg and Moscow together (as my college graduation present), having also spent time touring Stockholm and Helsinki, and she continually mispronounced "spasibo" (Russian for "thank you") as "spice bomb". "Spice bomb!" she'd say loudly, beaming as a bowl of soup was placed in front of her at a restaurant. Or, "Spice bomb!" she'd exclaim, upon receiving her ticket for entry into the Winter Palace. Despite repeated attempts to change her pronunciation, I gave up and succumbed to the "spice bomb"-ing that happened nearly every time I was in earshot.

But alas, the mysteries of the "spice bomb" were not enough to carry an entire blog post.

So I decided to think a little "closer to home". I've lived in the UK for over 8 years now, and I'm proud to have kept my American accent (it's something I work on daily). I thought about all the times I've had to put on a fake British accent in order for the automated telephone system at Lloyds Bank to understand me:

Robot voice: "In order to direct your call, please say, in your own words, how we can help you today."

Me (normal American voice): "Using card abroad."

Robot voice: "I'm sorry. I did not understand you. In order to direct your call, please say, in your own words, how we can help you today."

Me (faux British voice): "Using cahhhhddd abrorrrrd."

Robot voice: "Using card abroad. Did I understand that correctly? Please hold, while I transfer you to a member of our team."

Me: (sigh)

And then, it hit me.

I was lying on my stomach on our bed, dangling my legs over the edge and watching an episode of House of Cards (last season, I nearly broke my neck binge-watching back-to-back episodes on my iPad. I seriously almost went to the doctor).

Enter John.

"Wydintchywatchitonthepiksie?" he said, at the door.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my eyes focused on the iPad.

"Wydintchywatchitonthepiksie?" he repeated.

I pressed pause and turned to look at him. "I'm sorry?" I asked again.

"WHY. DON'T. YOU. WATCH. IT. ON. THE. BIG. SCREEN?" he enunciated.

"Oh, thank GOD. Why do you MUMBLE so?" I huffed, and rolled off the bed, heading for our projector in the living room (yes, we've been watching TV and movies on our version of a home cinema ever since, oh, 2009).

Like I said, it hit me. SOMETHING GETS LOST IN TRANSLATION EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Between me and John. It's a combination of his accent (which is pretty much a "standard" English accent - no traces of Geordie, Brummie, or Scouse there) and his tendency to mumble.

(If we ever meet in person, ask me to do an impersonation. It's really good.)

My all-time favorite one is this: back in the day when we lived in Maida Vale and John thought it would be a good idea to "scoot" to Warwick Avenue tube station in the mornings i.e. on a scooter (like, the kind that children use), he decided to invest in one that wasn't, naturally, pink with purple handlebars or one that had Spiderman emblazoned all over it (this was sold on eBay after just under 6 months of ownership).

One morning, when we were lying in bed, and I thought John was reading the news on BBC.co.uk (as he often does in the morning), he exclaimed, "Mosquitos at Harrods!"

"Mmm ... that's nice, honey," I mumbled, burrowing deeper into the covers. "Is there a breakout or something?" In my semi-dreamlike state, I imagined women in furs screaming and running from a swarm of mosquitos following them from McCartney to McQueen.

"What?" he said, turning towards me. "I said, mosquitos at Harrods!"

"Yes, I know, darling," I said. "There must have been quite a swarm for it to have made headline news."

"MY. SCOOTER. IS. AT. HARRODS," he pronounced. "I. AM. GOING. TO. GO. BUY. IT. TODAY."

"Oh GOD!" I yelled, pulling the pillow over my eyes. "Why did you wake me up to tell me THAT?!"

Or the time he pointed out the window when we were driving along the countryside in Leicestershire.

"Look! A hit-ah-balin!"

"What?" I said.

"A hit-ah-balin!"

"What?" I asked again, still not understanding.

"HIT. AH. BALOOOOONNNN!" he shouted. "You need to get your ears checked."

I squinted out the window at the colorful object disappearing over the horizon.

"OH," I said. "A hot air balloon. UGH, can't you pronounce ANYTHING correctly? And, STOP MUMBLING!"

"I. AM. TRYING." he said, through gritted teeth.

Spice bomb.

This post is part of the travel link-up hosted by fellow bloggers, Rebecca, Emma, Kelly, and Sam. Head over to their blogs to read some hilarious (and, at times, traumatizing) stories and join the link-up yourself!

A Special Valentine's Guest Post: The Secret Life of Angloyankophile ... by Mr. Angloyankophile

Do you know the REAL Angloyankophile? There are almost 600 posts here which form a picture - but is it a true, and full one? 

For example, how many ChattyFeet socks does she own? 

There are many lovely pictures among these pages, but what about the out-takes? 

Most importantly, does she ever eat IN? 

From my vantage point as Mr 'ophile, I thought I would fill in a few salient details that have mysteriously not made it onto these pages:

Jäger-what? - Meeting Ms 'Yankophile for the first time while at university, I was struck by the tales of her drunken antics at her college, Mount Holyoke. 

Falling asleep outside the club after too much beer on her birthday - impressively British! 

However, over time some further important context has emerged. 'Too much' in fact meant, basically the neck of ONE beer. And the time of said disobedience? As far as I can make out it was about 8pm; with the party having kicked off half an hour before. 

In short, Angloyankophile is the worst (or maybe the best) drinker in the world! A sip is all it takes...

(h)Angry - You all know Angloyankophile as sweetness and light, sugar and spice etc. You think that's all? Just try her if dinner is running 20mins late. Shrift is short, stares are stony and a rage over something trivial is never far away. It's enough to terrify. In fact I'd better put the oven on ...

Intimidating - This one's probably not so surprising, but have you tried spending most of your time with someone who is an accomplished business person, musician, blogger, speech maker, speech writer, and has more friends already in her adopted country than most of us do in their own?! It's pretty intimidating, (could I mean irritating?). Don't worry, for the good of humanity I try to take her down a peg or two when I can ...

Mountainfearing  - At various times I notice Angloyankophile posting photos of the brooding and spectacular Mount Rainier as, variously: 

a) a picture for a blog post on the beauty of her home town;

b) the cover photo on Facebook or Instagram;

c) evidence of her undying love of nature. 

These are falsehoods. 

Angloyankophile is neither at all awestruck by mountains, or interested in walking on, climbing up or sliding down them. Below is a better representation of her 'true spiritual home':

Ear plugs at the ready - One other topic that seems to have been strangely neglected in the blog posts among these pages is Ms 'Yankophile's COLOSSAL SNORING. Seriously; where does it come from?! I don't know, but when she gets into full swing, resistance is futile.

'SLH (small luxury hotel) only please' - Angloyankophile was recently nominated as one of the UK's top travel bloggers - presumably for her fearless, independent voyaging across the globe. 

Call me a pedant but I think something has gotten lost in translation. For Angloyankophile's real outlook on travel, think Hilton instead of hostel, BA rather than backpacking, spa not Spartan. Left to her own devices I think she'd spend most years in the same resort in Thailand (even getting her there took weeks of persuasion!). 

Mr and Mrs Smith would be proud - but come on, the odd cockroach never hurt anyone!

Footsie - Angloyankophile never shows her face on her blog posts to protect her anonymity. I'll tell you one other thing you'll never see: her bare feet. Ballet shoes put paid to that; they are now more trapezoidal than feet-shaped. Sorry. 

Arachnophobia (the phobia, definitely not the film) -  You'd assume that with such a vibrant social life, trendy friends and hobbies (disclaimer: I work in finance, so to me pretty much everything is trendy to me), Angloyankophile would also naturally have a great taste in films. 

I think she would, except for one major issue - she is totally chicken! I'm not talking about horror movies here; I think she had nightmares from Monsters Inc. So it's a Disney diet for us...

Brilliant - And, in addition to all that, she's - well - brilliant. 

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

- Mr Angloyankophile

Well, there you have it. All my secrets revealed: from trapezoidal feet to my "colossal snoring" (I highly doubt this, by the way, though the foot thing is true). Thank you, sweetie. Happy Valentine's Day :)