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| Hair- actually my own for once! Top- Laura Ashley, v old Vest- H&M Jeans- Peacocks Shoes- So old the place they're from no longer exists! Note: I have no recollection of the spasm which must have caused me to pose my leg in such an odd fashion, which it must have been, as what normal person stands that-a-way! |
With regards to the outfit; I was aiming for mildly nautical, but what I got, I think ended up looking more 'Alcatraz escapee' all I needed was an ankle chain and lump hammer. Anyway the whence at which I was rocking the prisoner look was Houghton hall, the home of Britain's first PM- Robert Walpole (Which I totally did know about before reading it on a tourist information board...). Although I had an enjoyable time there, what I did find confusing, was the amount of Hirst-esque, ultra modern art they dump it the grounds of this place, whilst still beautiful in it's own way (depending on taste I suppose), is an 18th century, stately home really the place for it? Then again, perhaps it's just a peek at the depths at which the National Trust have to bow to in order to foot the bill of the constant and inevitable up keep of these properties and their land, if it is, I hope it gets no worse. In my mind it's equivalent to buying fish and chips from the local Chinese. I don't go there for 'English', I go for Chinese.
Apologies for picture quality, taken with a camera quite possibly made two decades ago. Lets call it vintage.
I do enjoy tiny writing!
