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Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Thursday's child has far to go.

So I wake up not to bright but definatly early at 07.30 on a frost bitten morning, with plans to be on a train departing at 9am, to visit my not so mobile elderly members of the family.
At aproximatly 08.45, one of my pretty black brogues (the only pair if flats I own) decides to play hide ans seak. This point in my life is really not a good time for the one shoe curse to strike.
So I am forced to chuck on the chunky, furry, sky-scrappers, that I insisted that I couldn't live without last christmas and successfully managed to convince both my self and my partner that I woulnd most definitely never take these £100 babies off my feet. Needless to say they have seen the light of day twice since then.

So third time lucky..
I tot off at a turtles speed, through the one inch of death snow, (thinking aloud "f*ck you peep toes").
& 600 gruelling yards later.... It dawns upon me.

A. I have cleverly forgotten the gifts that I stayed up until 2am           wrapping.

B. That I am carrying my partners Blackberry, not my 3210 :/

C. Where the balls have I put my 30th pair of gloves this year?...(Hello...Raynauds disease)
(Image complete with, runny nostrils, washed away makeup and everyone feel sorry for me expression)
So I Bambi dance my way home and you've freaking key is sleeping snuggly at the depths of my washing basket...inside the house!! ARGHHH!!
Now I currently have four big boys (one of whom is wearing my fluffy pink dressing gown) sprawled out all over my living room floor, following there night-before Christmas party shenanigans.
 And after 15attempts, they still leave me clinging to the intercom.
The sky in now peeing ice and Im screaming like a crazy lady and giving the portier far worse language than he deserves.
Now for some one with zilch hand eye coordination and a track record as bad as mine, my next impulse move of launching a rock (not as stone) at my window probably wasn't a great idea.
You would be wrong in assuming that I cracked my window, because I didn't...I cracked next doors!
Luckily my sore headed, squinty eyed other half soon came to my rescue before the police showed there faces.
"Why didn't you just ring me?" He says.
"Because maybe - perhaps I have your phone, oops!" Raph says.
"Why didn't you just ring the intercom then, you tool?" He says.
"You have seriously  got to be kidding me, Ive been ringing for half a freaking hour!" I reply.
"Errm...which number have you been dialling?"

I think its possibly appropriate that I send them an apologetic christmas card, containing something more than my sorry's, for turning there sunday morning slumber into a Scarface scene.

Seriously not my finest hour...
Now a little better equipped ( "see you in another year platforms") the subsequent days evenst unfoldled quite nicely. Hello lamb roasts, giving of gifts, knitting and and natter.

And im sure like any other woman on the planet in this situation, feeling quite smug about the whaling and retching of self inflicted man flu racket, echoing from the bathroom. :) He-he!

This first set of images was taken by the brilliant Sheffield based Craig Fleming 
Modelling stunning apparel designed by another Northern gem, Tanya Atkin and these luscious locks by the amazing Natalie Shafii of (check out there fab website for a game of 'wheres Raph?')
Tell me what you  think of the hair..
Because I love it and I am seriously just one teeny tinny phone call away from booking a perm.
My mother born with afro Caribbean locks is of course uberly against the idea and bought me pretty gold sparkly rollers, root uplift sprays, voulmisers and other 'turn my hair into a microphone' kind of products in a plea to talk me out of the idea.
But I am so soooo tempted...

These next gorgeous images where taken in an amazing penthouse suite in Manchester City centre, by the lovely Lloyd wright.
Such an amazing place to shoot, the panoramic views, the free vogue, Tattler and GQ, the two I-macs and spiral staircase...Sounds like my kind of Hotel.

Have a sweet Thursday chaps.
Love Raphaella McNamara.

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