Behind every great woman ...
... there's a big bear giving her a hug.
Those who know me know I love bears. Those who know and love me tell me that I will never be tenderly hugged by a bear. I maintain a surface bravado but deep down I have a niggling fear that they might be right. With this French Connection T-shirt, though, all my dreams could come true. Safely.
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Vogue Editor Anna Wintour
Camel
Reading The Cut this morning, I couldn’t help but be struck by the Vogue editor’s resemblance to a dromedary, or an even-toed ungulate if you will. Or even if you won’t.
I was also tickled to read the other day that former NY Times restaurant critic Frank Bruni Twittered thus about A-dubs’ eating habits:
“Anna Wintour comes to Marea, orders chicken, with avocado salad, neither on menu. What’s the point?”
What, indeed? And since when do even-toed ungulates eat chicken?
Take your guide book and F-off, city slickers.
The Brow’s brain is still virus-addled, hence another animal photo. They must and shall stop. Tomorrow.
Went for a hike today near Biggin Hill in the Kent countryside with F. It’s rural but still semi-suburban, so the fauna we spotted include this cow (plus herd of similar) and a parrot in someone’s back garden who greeted us with a cheery, “Hello, Bill!” I think he must have mistaken us for someone else; maybe he didn’t have his glasses on.
The cows were in a field which we eventually realized we had to cross. At first, we saw the cows but weren’t sure of the way. I wondered whether they would stampede. F scoffed at me and we marched on in the other direction … only to realise quite quickly that it was the wrong one. Back to the cows we went. Again, I expressed mild apprehension about invading their personal space. This time, F wasn’t so sure we were safe. Why not? “They’ll have had time to think about it.”
They did look like some bolshy bovines. I speculated that they had learned to recognise the guide book to walks around London that we were carrying and developed a particularly violent hatred for the people who followed it into their field. But they remained solidly rooted to the spot as we passed. I guess they were still thinking about it.
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Peggy and Suzie are Kune Kune pigs
The Brow is sick. The Brow probably does not have swine ‘flu (and, if you’re going to be a passenger on a BA flight from LHR to JFK on Monday, definitely does not). But The Brow wouldn’t mind getting swine ‘flu if she got it from snuggling one of these Kune Kune hoglets. Their name means “fat and round” in Maori. I can’t imagine why. You can see lots more porcine porn here.
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