chablis's space

How exciting.  Prom Queen's World War II transport won the award for Best Prom Transport - hurrah.  Pix to follow 

Well, lots of apologies should anyone ever happen upon the ramblings in this space, as clearly they would not have been satisfied for many a long month.  What has moved Chablis to cyberspace was the school prom.  Clearly, not Chablis', that would stretch the YSL touche eclat too too far, but the delightful Louise.

 

Louise arrived prematurely in January 1993 - a tiny person delivered by ceasarian to a mother I swore mascara allegiance to and delivered Maybelline Ultra Lash to a day after the delivery.  We went thru baby asthma and puffers, sleepovers with Auntie Chablis and various childhood traumas, which eventually manifested via early  brilliance in GCSE stuff into tonite - the Prom.  Karen Millen did the dress - God love her - Chablis did the hair - it was a full Babylis 23 heated roller epic and the transport was v Chablis - 2 x WW2 army trucks plus a Bofus gun - which was fired over the heads of the crowd.  V stagey, v awesome, v tear jerking. Goodness knows what will have to be pulled from hats if the delightful spiderly lashed bouffant haired beauty ever gets married - tempus fugit etc, hope never to get truly old xx

Updating the blog has fallen by the wayside of late. The wonderful whacky world of Events has kept Mrs C's nose to the grindstone. 2009 promises to be another busy year with the annual tennis-fest growing and efforts to bring some semblence of order to Darling Director's project - involving steep hills, chicanes, road resurfacing, longboards and smelly men harbouring germs in sweaty tight leathers.

Mrs C has turned her big blue eyes against this annual horror, but a three line whip in 2008 to work and a ghastly u-tube clip that raised 2 million hits means the wretched thing is here to stay so Chabs better hove to and make it a bit of a do. Ref 2009 and the tennis-fest turf wars have broken out with the great gods of grass who are required to up their game with more practice courts and are being v prima donna about the whole thing. Bringing a bit of scrub land up to tournament standard is not an overnight sensation but if they don't get a grip many will.

A sweet project if it goes ahead is Mrs Chab as wedding planner as there is a move afoot to register a cute natural amphitheatre with stone shelters, gazebos and lawns into a wedding venue. If the street drinkers and murderers can be hefted out (murder was never solved) and the stone shot blasted, if Dettol make enough disinfectant in the world to stench the pervading smell of wee and marquee companies will hand roll their structures on to site - IT'S A PLAN! Hey it's almost weekend - make it a goodie. Fingers crossed that Chab's Baileys Chocolate Cheesecake stays firm for dinner guests. xx

This weekend saw Mrs Chab and the team deliver the annual Beer Festival - 120 cask ales 27 ciders and perries, wine bars, beers of the world and 4000 thirsty punters.  Funky oompah bands, soul, irish folk a good mix of music and the Beer of The Festival Awards,  Mrs Chab was official photographer and lost lashfuls of Christian Dior mascara laughing at the results.  Here, prior to cropping, are the results.  The naked guy that looks like he's rogering the recipients is the poster boy for CAMRA, the stage steps handrail doubles for a giant willy or a 12 bore shotgun depending on the shot.  Loving some of the expressions. 

 

 

 

 

 

Mrs Chablis has organised many an aviation event and the memories are numerous.  For a number of years the RAF Careers guys were led by a Squadron Leader who in turn was led by a very bossy wife.  Mrs C hosts a party for display teams which was held, until they got way too woossy and cold and insisted on being taken back to hotel bars, in a marquee on lawns overlooking the seafront.  Channel hopping this week the inimitable Mr Holland announced Glen Campbell - and yes he performed Wichita Lineman live.  Mrs C was instantly taken back to the year this charming, but henpecked, Squadron Leader gave his fierce lady the slip and returned to the seafront in time to smooch to the strains of Glen in the moonlight. 

 

I am a lineman for the county. And I drive the mainroad. Lookin' in the sun for another overload.

I hear you singing in the wire. I can hear you thru the whine. And the Wichita Lineman,
is still on the line.

I know I need a small vacation. But it don't look like rain. And if it snows that stretch down south,
won't ever stand the strain.

And I need you more than want you. And I want you for all time.
And the Wichita Lineman,
is still on the line.