Ducks, Derek Acorah, Intense Research.

Afternoon, chaps. Mother has ducks. They live in the shower. I wish this was a joke, but no... we have three ducklings living the shower and they have a paddling pool in the garden. Their names are Jemima, Daphne(!), and Delilah. They're bloody noisy, but I suppose their heart melting fluff makes up for it. I'm so weak. I find myself singing them little German nursery rhymes about ducks...alle meine Entchen...
Yesterday I spent three hours in the hot tub and got out like a pale raisin. Then I watched Most Haunted (because Derek Acorah is the funniest living being I have ever encountered) and tweeted about vintage things... And then I used the internet to track down somebody I met a year ago. Now, I think we need to stop and admire this for a ticket. I didn't know their name, number, address, I didn't know shit, gurl. I know it's wrong, but I'm quite proud that I stalked them down on the internet just from their re-enacting group. And I watched from afar for a few minutes, before I realised that I had in every sense reached an all time low. From this I can conclude that my revision is going well.

But in all seriousness, if I can find somebody with just '29th infantry' to go on, who knows how other people might be finding me, or you, or anybody at all with the same ease.
-Daphne

Burlesque Moose Interpretation, GCHQ, and Secret Liquid Happiness.

Just a few words from me:
1. Sweet mother Mary, Eurovision was weird tonight in Sweden. Burlesque moose dancers? I don't even think I want to understand.
2. Visited Cheltenham for the first time today and saw GCHQ. It was fab. But I also saw my sister's uni halls....they're... She has empty wine bottles in her window like medals. That's my girl.
3. Finished school on Friday. Will be back in on Monday. Bazaar feeling. I didn't cry, so I feel like my experience is incomplete...Just my exams to go, and then it's prom! Might have to put a hip flask in my handbag. Secret liquid happiness, you see. More on my last day soon. Fingers crossed.

Daphne.

Passport Pirates, Cleaners, The Loft.

Evening, you beautiful, beautiful people.
SO. Who wants to hear about something stupid I did? Gather round children, and sit tight.
I wanted to get myself a passport; I got to the website that looked fine, just like the gov. one. It wasn't the government one,  I know I should have checked properly, but looking over the top half of the page it all looked fine. Lord, I'm such a twat. So anyway, the passport pirates took a considerable amount from my bank account to send me the forms I could have gotten free from the previously blogged about bitter post office women. Now I'm very poor, with the cost of my passport and other things to pay. Ah well...I've learnt my lesson. But if I come across the passport pirates I shall jolly well have some quite unladylike things to say to them. Sodding passport pirates.
In other news, tripped down the stairs somewhat. Cleaners at the bottom giving me judgemental looks.
AND, I need to write a speech this weekend. A speech to make to my teachers and other students finishing school this year. Because of the whole 'Daphne is Head Girl' sitchyation. By which I mean, I'm Head Girl, I have to make a speech. Why do I have to say it the hard way? But anyway, I want to make them all cry and laugh and love me. Maybe I'll blog it to you just as I'm about to make it. Wish me luck. My year is too tongue in cheek ( like me) to take anything too heavy.
Etsy shop is now open for business! Still working on getting stock in, so be patient with me. But check it aaaaat, dolls, favourite it, share it! I need to sell these beautiful vintage bits, they need more care and love and attention from retroheads like you lot. Vintage makes me happy, so that's why I'm sharing it with you. Because I love you.
SEARCH DaphnesLoft on Etsy to find my shop!
TTFN
Daphne x

Beautiful tat and expensive junk.

Evening, fabulous people.
I don't usually mix my devotion to vintage things with my internet rambling, but as I always say, "what's life without whimsy?"
So today, let me give you a short and sweet little look into my world. Only thing is, it's me. It probably won't be very short, you know how I love to go on about that which Fatherbloke calls 'tat' and 'junk'...quite beautiful tat and relatively pricey junk, thank you, sir. Where shall I start?
Let's begin with the facey and curly side of things, because I think most of you reading are of the female variety. How good am I- writing for my audience... you're welcome, dolls. Now, I think some other time I will give you a nice long, in depth version of what I'm about to tell you, but for now 1940s style makeup:
Slightly darker (liquid) foundation with lighter powder (I go for 'translucent', to be utterly sure it's paler than my actual skin, and you can mix it with talc if your foundation is quite warm, plus the talc will make it last longer), you can use powder or very pale/white eyeshadow, and then muted brown or grey eye shadow in the crease of the socket, black or brown mascara (but make sure you use eye lash curlers before so you get the right shape, and flick the wand to the corner of your eye and up so you get a sort of wide eyed look), pink rouge with slightly red or peach undertones (just follow your cheekbone and follow into a tiny circles directly below your eyes), forties brows are natural in thickness and have prominent but not unatural arch to them, to make them stronger use eyebrow pencil, brown eye liner or eye shadow.
I would go in for pin curling and the like but I think I would tire you out.
Tata for now, all.
Daphne.

Anonymous, Stamp Gits, and Trumpet Players.

Evening, chaps. It has come to my attention that I haven't written here for a couple of months. This was, in fact, brought to my attention firstly by a friend who can recall the date of my last blog exactly- isn't that fabulous? Secondly, by a lot of emails from the website telling me that some arsehole called 'Anonymous' posting spam about...I don't even know. However, Anonymous, I don't appreciate it. Please bugger off. YOU'RE GETTING IN MY MIND. Seriously, I had a dream I was bitching about how much I hate you over icecream with Mamma Dunford. Most surreal thing ever.
Recently I have learnt that people who call themselves stamp experts are usually gits, and that playing the trumpet can make a slightly creepy person extremely creepy, but I'm not entirely sure why.
See you later alligator.

Daphne.

27th, A Young Lady, and Cat Antics.

Good evening, all.
It's been a little while, hasn't it?
I've come to disagree with the 27th of the month these days. Meh. There are just some days that need to have coconut ice planned for them- the 27th of the month is one of them. So naturally, we made curry and coconut ice. We being Schwierd (a chap of mine) and I. Occasionally we all need a bindi, bangles, and coconut ice. I'm not sure that it's even Indian food, but it's a nice combination...
I was thinking recently about a girl, Malala I believe, who is now in hospital up country after being shot by the Taliban in her country. How incredible she is. So brave at such a young age, so resolute, and determined.
She's my age.
And I wonder, put in her position, whether I would be strong enough to do what she has. I'd like to think I would be, but I'm not in her position, so how could I possibly say that I would be. I so admire her. In my opinion, she displays true courage, and conviction, in so many ways equal to, more than, that of Milicent Fawcett or the Pankhursts- but so very different. In a truly civilised world, is every man and woman taught to think for his or herself? I think yes.  The "girl" I referred to earlier, is very much a woman. A woman who knows the value of her education, and a woman who has been fighting for what she knows is right.
Ask me who I admire, and I say it must be her, and I'm sure there must be others who are trying to do exactly what she was trying to do.
The attack on her, a young lady, and a credit to not only her country, but to the rest of the world has made me question just how "civilised" some people really are. Where is the civilisation in a group who would attempt to kill a child simply for wanting to go to school? Where is the civilisation in a group who would openly threaten to attempt to kill her again on her return?
Something must be done. And it must be done before it's too late.

Daphne.

NB. On a lighter note. Mother just made me move so that her cat could sit on the settee where I was, because apparently it was exactly where Winnie "wanted to sit"... -.-

Ludo, Eric Clapton, And The Boys.

Hullo, peoplefolk. I, sir, am blumin' knackered.
This is the part where I could choose to tell you why, or leave you guessing from some obscure, ridiculous hints- but that kid cheats like a bitch at Ludo.
Paps made banana wine. Luffly stuff, chaps. Bit strong.
Anyways, I won an award this week. For excellence and attainment in modern foreign languages. So thanks, Pat Neale! I owe you one, man. This was at a presentation evening, which I had to be at (Head Girl and whatnot), and let me tell you- between you and me- I took every ounce of effort to smile at so many grumpy parents who didn't want to be there.
If I Saw You In Heaven, Eric Clapton. Lord above, it makes me cry. He lives over the beach at Porth Kidney. Porth Kidney is my favourite place in the whole world. Now, I must make this a little bit more serious. Just this once. I'm not sure if that's what the boys would have wanted, though. So I'll try to keep it light.
Joe and Lou are twenty tomorrow. If I Saw You In Heaven- paps still can't listen to it. The boys passed away as babies, and the whole thing deeply upset my parents- as you can imagine. But we grew up always knowing their names like older brothers, and I think they'd have been a right laugh, expecially if they'd turned out anything like paps. Maybe we'd have had to have put up with spiders being thrown at us and other assorted laddish traits, still...wherever they are now, I'm sure they're doing just fine. And although I might not have known them in life, I think I know them all the better for the thought over the years. So, if I forget to say it tomorrow- happy birthday, guys. Don't drink too much.

-Daphne.