When I'm grown up I want to be...

On Wednesday it was my last day of school. Ever. 13 years of education and it is finally over (ignoring the one more exam I have to sit and the fact I will be starting 3 more years of study in September...). *Happy sigh*. To celebrate the fairly monumentous occasion we all decided to dress up in fancy dress, with the theme 'When I'm grown up I want to be...'. Rather than going as my realistic dream (I figured editor of Vogue might be a fairly tricky fancy dress option, plus I would have got far too hot in a fur coat) I decided to opt for my childhood dream. Cue pink cupcake apron, gingham hair ribbon, kitten, and (most importantly) my prized Blue Peter badge I won when I was younger. That's right: Libby Page, Blue Peter presenter extraordinaire.

This is a secret dream I have long held. Firstly, I would love to be a TV presenter. I love to talk, and to be paid to chat and grin insanely seems ideal. Then combine in baking and making egg cups shaped like bunnies from bathroom flannels (this particular excitement I saw when watching Blue Peter recently. It's ok, I was watching it with a 7 year old) and you have the perfect job. However, the climbing up cranes and trekking through muddy forests aspect of the job never appealed. Therefore, all things considered, fashion journalist it shall be.

I was thrilled with the effort everyone had made. We may have got some strange looks from the younger students and walking into town after school for a drink, but I think fancy dress has a great way of bringing people together and making them smile. We all looked crazy together, but we were HAPPY crazy people.

I was joined on the day by another Blue Peter representative, in the form of Lydia the Blue Peter gardener.

Two of my best friends, Alice the Hippy and Harriet, rocking Geek Chic.

Mel the glamourous house-wife. All baking should be done in stilettoes in my opinion.

Ellen's sailor outfit looked so cute and stylish I suggested she just wear it out and about. Why not?

I was very jealous of Gemma's air hostess outfit, complete with a mini suitcase she diligently dragged around all day.

The envy continued when I saw the way Sarah managed to pull off a fluorescent jacket and builder's hat.

Polly the pretty geisha, with a beautiful umbrella that was found in a skip. Who would throw that away?!

Lucy the lovely flower fairy.

Naomi looked the part in her stripey tee and beret, whilst Lauren was set for all sorts of adventures, compass slung around her neck. And of course no explorer's kit would be complete without a bubble wand, which she used to blow bubbles for us to chase like happy five-year olds all day.

Barbie and the sumo-wrestler made an unlikely yet very smiley couple.

Spider man and Batman join ranks...

Imagine the colour of the bath water that evening...

The boys

Our teachers came outside to admire / stare bemusedly at our outfits at break. Check out the handmade outftit; Lewis, I salute you.

That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind

After 7 years in the same school I thought it would feel strange to have left, but I don't think it has really hit me yet that I'm never going back. And despite my lovely friends and the fond memories I will always have of the school, now I am just looking forward to September, and counting down the days until I start the next, exciting chapter of my life.

Libby

Libby loves bunnies

I love bunnies. You probably would have guessed.

I spent my entire GCSE graphics course drawing rabbits. I had to come up with a concept for a company and design products, and mine was a card company full of the bunny designs that my friends and family are sometimes lucky enough to receive from me for birthdays and christmases. I think by the end of the course my graphics teacher (bless him) never wanted to see another rabbit ever again and thought I was thoroughly mad, but I enjoyed myself.

Looking through old files on my computer I found some of my bunnies and thought I would share. Hope you enjoy.

Libby

P.S and if the buyer for Paperchase happens to be reading, I am trying to conjur up money-making schemes for university, so get in touch.

P.P.S Ha. Ha.

NEW WARREN BUNNY

HONEY BUNNY




MERBUNNY

EXTREME BUNNY



HAWAIIAN BUNNY



FLOWER BUNNY


MUMMY BUNNY



POORLY BUNNY



SURF'S UP BUNNY



BABY BUNNY

A bathroom from heaven

Last week I went for supper with my mum and friends in the newly refurbished Grovsenor Hotel in Shaftesbury.When I went to the bathroom I actually jumped for joy as soon as I walked in. "Mum, you have to take a photo of the loo on your iphone!" I squealed when I came back to the table, much to the amusement I'm sure of the other guests sipping expensive wine and eating obscurely named vegetables.

When we left, (after a delicious meal) I had to take one last visit just to say goodbye to the beautiful room. Painted a cerise pink one wall was decorated with wallpaper featuring sketches of women in flowing pink dresses, the same pattern mirrored in the curtain fabric.

I recognised the wallpaper and fabric immediately. They are part of the Cecil Beaton 'Sketchbook' collection, a Cecil Beaton inspired range created by the fabric and four-poster scecialists Beaudesert.

I was lucky enough last year to attend a fascinating talk about Cecil Beaton, hosted by Beaudesert who had recently moved their shop from London to Tisbury, a sleepy town one stop away from my hometown on the train. At the talk their Cecil Beaton fabrics and wallpapers were on show, and it was love at first sight. Think a beautiful, sketchy style, striking colours and pretty patterns.

Possibly my favourite is their 'Beaton Beauties' print (above) which comes in grey, bright pink and poppy red. I would love to have a room with this paper decorating one focal wall, the rest of the room painted a pale, sophisticated shade to highlight the beautiful paper.

I remember walking past the Beaudesert window and seeing a chair upholstered in this rose print in the window. It made my heart glad.

Having met the enthusiastic and friendly pair behind Beaudesert at the Cecil Beaton talk, I was thrilled when they came to my book launch. I recently saw them credited in Vogue and couldn't help but feel so pleased to see them getting the recognition they deserve.

And one day, I WILL have that bathroom in my house.

www.hotelgrovsenor.com

www.beaudesert.co.uk

Libby

New post

http://lamodeandotherthings.blogspot.com/

Dreaming of Hay

With this year's Hay-on-Wye literary festival in full swing, I am feeling very jealous of all those who are there this year. A few years ago my dad took me to the festival for my birthday. We stayed for 3 days and attended a mix of talks that were eclectic to say the least. Georges Monbiot explained the threat of global warming, instilling in me a lasting fear for the future. We listened to a professor talking about the discovery of the Americas and a discussion about the internet (which I must admit went over my head - the speaker described the internet as if it was a real place or a person). At a mini concert I discovered welsh artist Gruff Rhys, whose music is now on my ipod, the welsh names making me smile whenever they pop up. And finally an interview with the author of a novel entitled 'Salmon fishing in the Yemen'.

Eclectic indeed. Yet it was this bizarre mix that made Hay-on-Wye so unique and memorable.

This morning's Guardian suppliment was a Hay-on-Wye special, and it got me thinking about my visit. Searching through my computer I came across these photos that I took when I was there. My mum lent me her camera, which is now mine and the same one I used to photograph 'Love Pink'.

I had always known I wanted to be a writer, but it was at Hay-on-Wye that I became all the more determined. This red bus is one of the (many) reasons why I want to be a journalist. It was the Guardian bus, where journalists wrote, sheltered from the rain (because of course no festival would be complete without rain. More of which later...) and mingled sipping wine. Behind the white picket fence was, to me, the 'Cool Group'. I imagined them talking about novels, theatre, and fashion, and I desperately wanted to be on the other side of that picket fence.

After having attended several talks I said to my dad, "I will be speaking here one day." Perhaps it is a rather far-fetched dream, but I was inspired. These were people who had done something with their lives and had something to say for themselves. They were confident enough to speak in front of hundreds of people. They were interesting, and inspiring. And they were all things I wanted to be.

The first day we arrived there were outbreaks of sunshine, but for the rest of the time it rained continuously. I remember there were plastic mesh panels laid across the grass in pathways (like the kind you get sometimes at swimming pools to stop you slipping). I think they were there to stop you having to wade through the mud, however every time you stepped on one it sank a few inches and water would shoot up your leg.

Just before another downpour I noticed these colourful flags, flapping atmospherically in the wind as the angry clouds gathered behind.

I loved this armchair made from books, which this man sat on writing onto huge sheets of paper. Behind him was a tunnel constructed for children to play in. The entire tunnel was decorated with stories about giants that had been written by the children. Unfortunately the stories had become sodden by the rain, yet the words remained in defiance of the weather.

This was one of my favourite stories. I found the whole thing surprisingly moving - say 'giant' to a child and you might expect fear to be the unanimous reaction, yet lots of the children had seen such good in their imaginary giants. Ava's giants were even 'falling in love'.

I loved the colourful mugs, book bags, pencils and deck chairs at the Penguin stall.

Scattered around the festival grounds were deck chairs like these, presumably for people to lounge in if it hadn't been so rainy. I have always remembered the messages on these two deck chairs. Perhaps becoming a trilingual fashion journalist, the editor of French Vogue and writing best-selling novels may be impossible, but that doesn't mean to say I'm not going to try my absolute hardest to make it happen.

There was a small garden of David Austen roses at the festival, roses that had obviously been benefiting from the rain to grow lovely and fat like the lemon one above.

The prize of the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse award for comic writing (won this year by Ian McEwan) is a Gloucester Old Spot Pig being named after the novel. Here the pig lazes in the hay, receiving several admirers.

This photo sums up the weather the few days that I was at the Hay-on-Wye festival. Yet despite the rain and the mud the atmosphere was extremely jolly. I will always remember my visit to Hay-on-Wye, and maintain that the festival is a British gem we should all be proud of.

Libby