Lou's in a Mood...

Because Lou likes it...

Put them away girls...

When my teenage son asked me to help him get rid of all the pornographic pop-ups on his PC the other day, I realized something which is becoming increasingly obvious: society is bored of in-your-face sex. Bored of Jordan, Jodie and their ridiculous topless ilk; bored of live sex shows in foam plastered Ibizan nightclubs; bored of starlet slut dresses slashed to the thigh and slit to the waist; and, frankly as my son also pointed out, totally bored with video clips of Paris Hilton’s nocturnal activities dropping – ping! - into his inbox. Sex has become unerotic, unappealing and, well, unsexy.

Every event I try to avoid but end up having to go to for one reason or the other, is filled with a room full of women dressed like they are ready for bed (and I don’t mean stripy PJ’s). Pushed-up cleavages served on a bed of Wonderbras, see-through skirts revealing tacky white thongs, the list of clothing disasters reads like an Ann Summers mail order catalogue. The saddest thing is that most of them just look like the cabaret girls that they all criticize and are all over fourty. Well, enough is enough. Far from turning us on, this constant sexual bombardment has actually succeeded in turning us off. According to a survey in a UK woman’s magazine, one in four women now prefer cleaning to lovemaking, and married women now have less sex than their 1950’s counterparts. Everyone else may be flaunting it, but that hasn’t made us feel like getting it.
Thank goodness, then, that the tide is finally turning. At the catwalk shows I attended at the beginning of the year for the current season, as if by magic, the whole fashion world agreed with the divine and demure looks of past decades. Cue tight below the knee pencil skirts, jackets with nipped in waists, the Hitchcock heroines of the 50’s and the anointing of a new erogenous zone: the ankle. What the Yuppies were to the 80’s the Yuffies are to today. That is young, urban females: the latest demographic to be discovered by the marketing men, whose aspiration is to be born again as virgins – they reckon that they only have to abstain from sleeping with men for a year to qualify. Even J.Lo, the woman who turned the world with her bottom in the past, turned up at New York fashion week dressed like Mary Jane this year.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s not sex itself that’s the problem. It’s how it’s sold to us. We don’t want everything to be given away on the packaging. We want frisson, we want suggestion, atmosphere, tension and flirting. It’s no coincidence that the most fun you can have in London right now is speed-dating in the dark, or that the sexiest film we have seen in years was the one where Bill Murray whispered something in Johanssen's ear. We don’t know what he said, but we can imagine.
‘Sexiness is a complicated thing, but it’s private, too,’ said the very clever Miuccia Prada. Privacy is way more interesting than the declared and obvious and if you want to know what is going to happen next in the fashion world, you would do well to listen to her.
So, girls, leave the mini skirts and nipple revealing t-shirts to the teenagers and put your designer thongs to the back of the drawer. From now on, the lady is no longer a tramp. Instead, she’s after the thrill of the chaste…

Life's a Beach...

A Man's View...

At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down...

Men are not mind readers.

Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

Shopping is NOT a sport, and no, we are never going to think of it that way

Crying is blackmail.

Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one:
Subtle hints do not work!
Strong hints do not work!
Obvious hints do not work!
Just say it!

Yes and No are perfectly Acceptable answers to almost every question.

Come to us with a problem… only if you want help solving it. That's what we do.
Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem… See a doctor.

Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 Days.

If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret models, don't expect us to act like actors in a soap opera.

If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us

If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one …

You can either ask us to do something, or tell us how you want it done.
Not both.

If you already know best, just do it yourself.

Whenever possible, Please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.

ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.

When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine,… really.

Don't ask us what we're thinking about, unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as baseball, the shotgun formation, or golf.

You have enough clothes.

You have too many shoes.

I am in shape. Round is a shape!

Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight; But did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping. Pass this to as many men as you can to give them a laugh. Pass this to as many women as you can to give them a bigger laugh.

Lou & Lulu would like to thank Marios Nicolaou for todays Blog

Food For Thought...

There are times when I have hated food - almost wishing that I could meet my body's precise nutritional needs by simply gulping a pill. I know its cowardice - a desire to simply opt-out, and cease having to focus or worry about food - a life free of the endless questions: "Is this good? Is this bad? Have I had too much? Not enough?" Even the most well-laid out eating plans can still become oppressive regimes where fear and worry overcome the simple pleasure of eating less and enjoying more. Everyone has bad days, and this isn't about how fat you are, but your attitude towards food.

When did I get to be so frightened of food? Is it heresy to believe that it might be possible to actually take pleasure in eating... and still manage an appropriate weight? Surely I'm not the only one who, at times, just wants to forget all about food, the numbers, and the measures - and just eat without fear - without gaining fat. Or better still, to actually lose fat in the process. I'm not saying that calorie counting is inferior, or that reading nutritional labels is counter-productive (quite the contrary really). This is about eating "style" rather than eating science.

Some points for Lou to ponder:

Must learn how to eat slower, much, much slower...
Must focus on what I'm eating, and how good it tastes...
Must attempt, to consume food by itself. Nearly everything I eat is consumed whilst doing something else. This is a symptom of time-poverty and the fruit of bad habit...

God, why did I have to be born with Mediterranean/Irish Genes?

If only, I had been born Ukrainian, I wouldn’t even have to post this blog!

What do women 'really' want?

There is a certain type of woman who knows exactly what she wants, which is – in very particular order – a big house with a show-off postcode, a size zero figure, another handbag . . . You know the script. Yet most women, frankly, are confused by their desires. They want symmetry and order and big glossy hair, but they also want spontaneity, successful dinner parties and pets. We do like bling, but we also like the discreet glint of tiny gold earrings and nothing more. We dream of being whisked off to the Anassa for a week of rose-petal-strewn baths and class-A spa treatments, but there are also plenty of times when we would rather stay at home and play Scrabble. Our definition of luxury depends on our mood, on where we are in our lives and how close we are to getting what we’ve always wanted (because, if there is one rule that holds true for all women, it is that the minute they get what they want, they move the goalposts).
You can also guarantee that any woman – with the possible exception of the zero size, handbag-a-holic – will resent being given what she wants if she has had to ask for it or prompt the giver in any way. This is because what a woman really wants, above all things, is for someone (a man) to be so focused on her desires, so attentive to her every whim, that he will know what she needs just by exercising his emotional intelligence.
Scarily, for the male present-buyer, the most luxurious gift can actually score negative points if the woman on the receiving end doesn’t feel it demonstrates the right amount of insight. We hate thoughtless expensive presents (don’t give us beauty boxes, they’re for your mothers) as much as we dislike flowers you’ve picked up at the petrol station. We love a logo-stamped box rustling with tissue, but not if what’s inside is red with tassels (that rings “chosen by his secretary” alarm bells).
Underwear can be feel good, but it has the opposite effect if it’s three sizes too small – there are few things sadder than having to struggle through the January sales to exchange the cute dolly size for something more robust. If you’re buying a ring, it has to fit, or we feel like one of the ugly sisters. Silver-lovers will balk at gold and vice versa. The right bag could work, but the wrong bag will make us feel guilty (we’re over the “to heck with it, I’ll take anything with a label” stage).
All of this suggests that women are impossible to please: fussy, quick to take offence, horribly conscious of where and how things have been bought, but, actually, it all boils down to one important message – what women really want is attention. As much of it as you can afford. (This, by the way, is the key to understanding women generally. When we sulk/nag/have a fit about our hair/spend too much on clothes/obsess about our weight/obsess about re-decorating the house/fall out with our friends/lock the bathroom door and refuse to come out, nine times out of 10, it’s because we feel neglected.)
We don’t need gifts to prove that we are loved, but when present time comes around, we can’t help but rate them in terms of their attentiveness score. It actually doesn’t matter whether we get diamonds or a dressing gown – what counts is that you, not some abstract female, have been in the buyer’s thoughts. We want attention and we want attentive presents. Indulgent presents. Spoiling, decadent, surplus-to-requirement presents that flatter the most superficial aspects of our nature. Maybe even presents designed to get us more attention, like 100% cashmere loungewear, some strappy gold shoes or one of those cashmere scarves that looks as if it was knitted for a giant in a fairy tale. Luxury comes in many forms, but what women understand by it is anything that is all about us and our pleasure and nothing to do with what is practical or sensible or appropriate. If you think we’ll be mad with you for buying that gorgeous evening gown that we tried on for a joke, well, we might, but we’ll be crying with joy, too.
The good news is that attentive luxury doesn’t have to cost the earth (an ornamental orange tree would do it for the keen horticulturalist, a pair of winter sunglasses for the fashionista); the bad news is that you do need to know your subject. That said, if you haven’t been concentrating this year (directed to him indoors)and want to make amends, you really can’t go wrong with anything from Aston Matthews online (I am renovating). Oh, and by the way, as it is my birthday very soon, I would love a holiday. We’re not that complicated...

Lou thoroughly enjoyed country life...

Poor Bert...

The Good Life...

Lou and Lulu are doing the good life...this weekend

Doesn't anyone think I'm gorgeous?

Last week I had my hair cut. Not a major chop, as I’m actually growing it, but a sleek re-style which even my hairdresser was completely proud of. Did anybody notice? Did they hell! In the end I had to draw my radical encounter with my hairdresser to about five people’s attention, and even then all they could muster was ‘I thought something was a bit different’. Some days I feel as though I could dye my eyebrows purple and boost my top half to even more grotesque proportions and nobody would bat an eyelid…

It wasn’t always this way. While at school I had a job in Harrods as a ‘mobile’ salesgirl. One Christmas, on the road down the side of Harrods, I distinctly remember there were a couple of roofers working on a house, and on the way to work every morning I would run the gauntlet of their choice comments. Their appreciation was met with a frosty stare as I stuck my head in the air and slinked past in my boots and leather jacket. These days I teeter along in my kitten heels and hardly get a second glance. If anyone was to say anything I’d be far more likely to giggle coquettishly than act the offended feminist.

In fact the last builder who commented on my appearance was the one who decorated my house five years ago, he drank the espresso I had made him, sitting in my kitchen, he asked, ‘Is it the way you are standing or are you pregnant again?’ Truly, things obviously ain’t what they used to be.

Don’t get me wrong. This has nothing to do with seeking male approval. I’m chuffed if the bag lady who walks up and down our road admires my coat. Okay, so she’s only thinking of the cold night ahead, but these are desperate times.

You can’t even rely on people who should know better. ‘Do these go together?’ I ask ‘him indoors’ (he being the only other adult in the house). ‘Yeah, they look fine’. ‘Fine’, in his case, usually means ‘I don’t think those colours go together but I’m not going to risk another debate on just how colour-blind I am’. Granted, my situation isn’t as bad as that of my friend. She recently said of her partner, ‘The day he pays me a compliment is the day I’ll know he is cheating.’

If it’s hard getting a compliment out of your other half, don’t look to other men for comfort. My good male friends seem to think they’ll gain Brownie points by pretending to be in touch with their feminine side and being honest with me, when really I’m just fishing for compliments. Once when I commented on my toned arms, naturally inviting comparisons with the muscular Madonna, one such ‘friend’ said ‘Yes I had noticed they were rather chunky.’ Another friend of mine was told, ‘You really are very attractive, but you should do a bit more work on your body. Your thighs are very big.’ There’s being ‘one of the girls’ and then there’s just living goddamn dangerously.

There are also those compliments that leave you suspecting a backhander that Federer would be proud of. The over-enthusiastic reception for my new sunglasses suggested that my last pair looked like Deirdre Barlow’s cast-offs, and the exclamations of how flattering my jeans were merely indicated how well they disguised my enormous arse.

Or, as my best mate was told, ‘You’re so good at parties as you really know how to let your hair down,’ which translated means, ‘Your pissed-up party piece is a blast for everyone else, but, God, are you embarrassing.’
A quick survey of my friends reveals one sad truth. It seems while we often think complimentary thoughts, they don’t always make it out of our mouths. One of the reasons for this could be the sometimes quite aggressive denial that a compliment can elicit. If someone tells us we’re looking great we shoot back ‘No I am not, I look absolutely awful.’ Sadly, learning how to appreciate compliments is something most of us achieve too late in life.

Perhaps there is a lesson in all this. Maybe it’s wrong to look to others to bolster a flagging ego, and as long as the important people in your life appreciate you, that’s really all that matters. Why, only yesterday my thirteen-year-old told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Okay, so I asked him first, and yes he knew that there was a packet of Maltesers riding on the answer, but still. He may not be a fully formed adult yet, but the boy sure shows some promise…

Did you say hand me the brick?

Our very 'shabby' house will begin renovation soon...

Hopefully shabby will turn into chic.

Lou and Lulu...at the beach

Praying for Sir Terence...

Please Sir Terence, could you pop over and have a look at the house...some wine and a few storage tips?

Brooding about kids...

Continuing the family ‘legacy’ is important for most parents, particularly those of the successful (ie wealthy) Mediterranean variety. If you come from a family of entrepreneurs, chances are you will be expected to become one too, regardless of your wishes or inclination. When the parents are high achievers, they expect their talents to manifest themselves in their offspring.

Many parents think the formula to their children’s success is to provide them with everything. And since everything is given, there is no reason why they cannot excel. “If her child can do it, why can’t mine?” Hearing parents boast about their kids’ success causes other parents to feel envy and even self-doubt. And because they feel this way, they can then put pressure on their own children.

Though instilling competitiveness in children has its benefits, potential negative ramifications can outweigh the positive. For example, children under great pressure can become very unhappy with one or two little mistakes. They may start blaming themselves for the slightest setback.

They will take every mistake or failure as the ‘end of it all.' This kind of mindset - where personal worth is measured by grades, accolades, and other quantifiable achievements - can be detrimental to their future self-perception. When the pressure is too much, the child no longer sees knowledge and the acquisition of knowledge as goals. Top grades have become the premium, whether or not he or she learns anything that is of value. And the child also becomes an unfriendly competitor.

With expectations set high, children may fear punishment from their parents every time they fall short. If children have difficulty in certain subjects or areas, they need support and guidance early on. However, since they are afraid of disappointing their parents, they will not come out and say, “I'm having a hard time understanding this.” Nothing is resolved; no course of action is taken. This fear of failure also translates itself into children’s unwillingness to take risks, to explore, or to try something new, thus stunting their long-term development.

Children under tremendous pressure from their parents are usually unable to think for themselves. How happy they are with their achievements depends on how happy their mum and dad are. Constant bragging by parents about their children to others may not always be graciously received. This may even create a wall between the child being bragged about and other friends, other parents and even relatives. Long-term damage to the child may result in an unhealthy superiority or inferiority complex.

The feeling of being better than everybody else, because a child was constantly drilled that he or she IS better, can result in ostracism by peers. Similarly, feeling inferior to others may cause children to retreat into their shells.

When children hear their parents comparing them with others, it only translates to two messages: either “Mum and Dad love me because I am perfect,” or “They say I’m not as good as the other children.” The need to succeed arises, but only to satisfy the desire to be accepted and be loved.

Before anyone notices, what begins as self-doubt escalates into serious anxiety, which can lead to more serious problems such as power struggles, eating disorders, and depression, even at a very young age. Children need to know that they will be loved whether or not they are showered with accolades.

Be confident of your children, let them learn at their own pace, and be there to hold their hands when they need it. Just as parents do best, love and accept your children for who they are. Allow them to be themselves since each child is unique. Respect their ways of learning, growing, and thinking. Ultimately, a child’s true measure of greatness depends on the love, guidance and values their parents give them.

Thanks for the mammaries...

‘We must! We must! We must increase our bust! The bigger the better, the tighter the sweater, the boys depend on us!’
When I was 11 this mammary mantra was regularly chirped out by my friends and me, accompanied by the synchronised elbow jerks thought to encourage growth. While the idea that all the boys were ‘depending’ on us to produce said busts added to the urgency of their emergence, I was never in doubt that I would soon be flaunting a pair of ripe, melony bazoombas. My friend Claire had already bought her first bra but there I was, still in a skinny ribbed t-shirt. The way I saw it, I was robbed. I was lead to believe that, upon womanhood, I’d automatically attain Playmate of the month proportions. I even started to skip lunch breaks and pop into the M&S underwear department to be measured, hoping that the measuring tape would magically move up a size. Then one day, having decided that I would be flat for the rest of my life, I woke up and there they were…

And I wasn’t too sure I liked them. Suddenly I was a child in a womans body and Irish road diggers were wolf whistling at me at the bus stop. I started to envy my less endowed friends who could slip into their tutu’s with no problem. Ballet became a thing of the past and netball became uncomfortable. Now that I had them I didn’t want them. The wake up call also came when 12 year old Wilbur Smythe from the boys school opposite aggresively challenged me with the question ‘Can you see your feet?’ A young girl does get a little confused when all of a sudden she obtains the stacked-stick look as demonstrated by Barbie. If I was a 50’s teenager I would have been considered hot, Lollobrigida la la’s were the thing and were poked out with pride. But it was the late 70’s and fashion dictated boobs to be small and chirpy, so I inevitably started to develop bad posture in order to hide the monsters from sight. Of course, all the less endowed girls envied me and the equally endowed considered me a threat… my early teens were a made a nightmare by a couple of overgrown glands.

By the time I went to University I had learned to live with ‘them’ and the fact other girls were trying to achieve the same effect by melting down a barrelful of Barbies and pouring the resultant fluid into the chest region didn’t make me feel so bad. And what of these implants? Well we have Pammy to thank for those kind of mammaries. Rock hard, obvious looking and lacking in perspective but as popular as ever. Girls in Brazil get them for 18th birthday pressies, and although they carry many health risks women still insist on shoving these lumps of plastic under their skin in order to get the vital statistics men lust over. A male friend once told me that as a ‘breast’ man, he doesn’t care how the big boobs get there as long as they’re big. So men basically are to blame for lesser endowed womens’ feelings of inadequacy.

My best friend had spent most of her life not believing boyfriends when they told her that they loved her breasts just as they were. She states that on meeting her husband, his early dating statement ‘I like small breasts’, had a distinct whiff of backhandedness, especially when she used to catch him ogling any udder going, with absolutely no positive discrimination towards the small A department.

In her struggle to compete with enemy breasts (thank God I’m not an enemy) she now hoists her dainties into that triumph of engineering, the Wonderbra. This flying buttress for boobs ensures that even the modestly endowed gal can pack a rack. She does admit though that although she enjoys the pretence of a formidable decolletage her pleasure is somewhat diminished by the nagging paranoia that everyone probably knows that all of her wonder is supplied by the bra. The turning point came when over coffee one morning she whisked out a package that she had received. Expecting some sort of new sex toy, I was disappointed. I could not believe that falsie advertising had gone to my friends head…a couple of gloopy little jellyfish prosthetics called Curves slithered out of the box. She had ordered them especially for a party she went to the night before. Although they made her feel shapelier and sexier at the beginning of the evening, after a few drinks she couldn’t help but laugh at her bogus bust and on a trip to the loo stuffed them in her bag and emerged looking her old self, naturally streamlined. She had finally accepted her litheness…

This in turn made me re-evaluate my own French Fancies, and I decided to give myself a break on the breast question. After all, I love them on other women in all flavours, be they ample or athletic, plump or pert. But have kept mine hidden. Maybe it was time I threw out my ‘minimiser’ bra and started to extend my appreciation of breasts, in their infinate varieties of goddess-like glory, to myself?
To this end, I’ve updated my childhood mantra to ‘I must! I must! I must accept my bust!…

Lou and Lulu meet Sir Trevor McDonald...

Dawn French On Big Women Part 2/5

Dawn French On Big Women Part 5/5

Dawn French On Big Women Part 4/5

Dawn French On Big Women Part 3/5

Dawn French On Big Women

Lou's Perfect Italian Home...

Vogue...

Laugh or cry?

OK, guys, tell us the truth. What do you think puts a woman in the sexy category? A model, an actress? Having a Lara Croft body complete with matching collagen lips? What do females really need to do to grab a guy’s attention? Nicosia has an abundance of women sitting prettily in hotel restaurants, spending hours in the spa, and driving round in fancy cars. Does this impress you and send your pulse racing? Is it enough to put a woman on your “most wanted” list? I think not.
The sexiest women in Britain, apparently, are comedians Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders. Why? Because they are funny. Nothing is more appealing than a funny woman, according to a questionnaire answered by British men in their 30s. Putting laughter so high on a list of desirables is apparently a much deeper thing than, for example, saying a woman has the perfect bottom or is really stunning. If a woman can’t make a man laugh she’s got no soul. I think it’s easier to impress a man by making him laugh than it is to spend hours looking perfect and then not having anything interesting to say all night. Satire, parody, ribald rhyme, wit and jokes about a certain part of the anatomy are definitely one way to a man’s heart. The key is not being afraid to say what you think. Isn’t that what a sense of humour is, the freedom to recognize this and to crack a joke, no matter how inappropriate? Women also put humour high on their list of “attractiveness” when asked what they want in a man. You can’t admire someone for a lifetime just for his or her looks. Take Greta Garbo, for example. She may have been a screen goddess, but Greta wasn’t exactly known for her rollicking party pieces. She just “vonted” to be alone. And ven you’re alone, the whole vorld does not laff viss you. Most guys feel threatened by any woman with a sense of humour because men tend to use humour as a weapon. This is because the male is a simple competitive being like a greyhound – he just wants to catch the rabbit, eat it and then go to sleep. I suppose some boys can’t deal with the fact that there are some women out there who are funnier and much more subtle than they are. Men are very sensitive about being laughed at. They possess a large and fragile ego much like a Ming vase, but not as rare or attractive. The problem is that they want women to hold their vases, fondle them, and praise them for being so bulbous. Joking apart, though, and without shattering too many ego-vases, we really have to take into account that guys who are insecure weaklings just can’t stand women to be funnier than them. I refer to chaps who guzzle Chang, wear football kit in public and have shaved heads. They can only have meek doormat girlfriends. My advice is to give them a miss. Such men are bound by outdated tradition and are afraid of the female humour area. You can see the importance of the laughter molecule in a happy relationship. It is more important than, say, a prenuptial agreement – an idea I have never understood. We get married and if I don’t like you in two months, I still get to keep the Merc. Hardly the stuff of traditional romantic novels, is it?

A prenuptial laughter agreement makes much more sense. I hereby promise to stop doing the squirrel noise after two years and you swear to come up with new jokes to replace all those vicar-shagging gags you learned down the pub with your mates. Think of all the relationships that could be saved if couples could surprise each other with fresh stories. Can you imagine having to sit through Richard Gere’s laugh-packed Dalai Lama anecdotes for the hundredth time? No wonder Cindy Crawford left him. Women are naturally funny because they have to be. They suffer more than men, they work harder, and they endure more physical pain. Humour is the great leveller that reminds us we’re not here for a long time; we’re here for a good time. There are degrees of “serious”, and that is what defines us and separates us. Men are gradually learning to accept funny girls. At long last some of them are beginning to see the light. Humour makes for understanding and love. It’s also less painful and lasts longer than collagen implants...

Lou's Tribute to Nadine Stair...

These words were spoken by Nadine Stair in an interview when she was 85...

If I had my life to live over

I would dare to make more mistakes next time.
I would relax.
I would limber up.
I would be sillier than I have been on this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously.
I would take more chances.
I would take more trips.
I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers.
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would perhaps have more actual troubles but I'd have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day.Oh, I've had my moments and if I had it to do over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments. One after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.

I've been of those people who never go anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute. If I had it to do again, I would travel lighter next time.

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds.I would pick more daisies.

Lulu's office in the courtyard...

Lou's Perfect Home in France...

Lou's Perfect Home in the Hamptons...

Lou's Perfect Peachy Shabby Home...

Black and white...

Just something I picked up for the house...

I am in total sympathy with you today Lou...

London is a million things that I cannot even begin to list...

Today I am as 'homesick' as you Lou...

Five places to eat that are open until the small hours| Restaurants | This is London

Five places to eat that are open until the small hours Restaurants This is London

Lou is really missing home today...

How I would just love to pop down to Shepherds Market with a handful of colleagues enjoy my scampi & chunky fries in a basket and a large Gin & Tonic, an hour max, then a brisk walk straight back to the office. London I miss you so, so much today...

Whose life is it anyway?

Is it just my imagination, or would some people out there agree with me when I sometimes feel as if everyone’s in charge of me – except myself? Your family, your boss, your friends, your partner. The list goes on…so what can you do about it?

The past few months have had me rushing around like a lunatic trying to juggle a thousand and one things at the same time, but then I have thrived on that kind of multi-tasking behaviour all my life and usually I ‘do’ work very well under pressure. There is a time in your life though (as I have recently discovered) where you have to slow down and give yourself some ‘me’ time. Yesterday for example, I did at least half a dozen things I didn’t want to do, including: driving half way to the end of the island to see my father and end up arguing with him, collecting my son and his friend from school because his mum was working ‘over’ time (I, run my own thing so I am 'never' working apparently), hosting two friends of my other son for a sleepover; accepting a commission for work I don’t really want to do, not getting angry with my partner, who rearranged our date for a night out (at the last minute, and for the third time because he was working late) and sitting on the sofa watching a ridiculous sci-fi movie with my eldest son, when I wanted to watch my boxed set of Rich Man, Poor Man!

None of these was a particularly big deal on its own, but combined, they gave me a feeling I’ve had many times before: of feeling put out, taken for granted, and borderline resentful. I could have said no to any of them but I didn’t. Was I some kind of mug? I tried talking to my partner and my friend about it, but guess what? My partner was still at work and my friend had cancelled the school-run because her partner’s parents were coming and she wanted to clean the house, she is obviously in the same tug-boat as me. According to Dr Petra Boynton a psychologist at University College, London, a similar description to mine is ‘Typical of many – maybe most – women’. ‘Being aware of other people’s needs and responding to them is something women do. We’re good at it. We do it at the expense of our own needs and without even noticing much of the time, until we are hit by the feeling of anger and resentment or just not knowing how we got ourselves into this situation’.

So, just how have we got ourselves into this state? There is a big debate about the role of nature versus nurture and according to the psychologist Anne Dickson (A Woman in Your Own Right.) ‘It’s probably a bit of both. What it adds up to is that most women see the world differently to most men: they are more co-operative, empathetic, and flexible. Men are more focused, self-orientated and see problems as things to be conquered. The result is that women tend to see things in the longer term, and aren’t focused on only short-term goals. They’re more aware of consequences and feelings, less inclined to confrontation and more inclined to consensus.’

So, I suppose that flexibility and compromise are essential tools in any relationship or situation. But they also make us vulnerable to taking on too much responsibility for other people. The ‘good’ compromise too easily mutates into the ‘bad’ surrender. In our relationships, we make more compromises, and still do more of the domestics – and according to recent research, women still do 75 per cent of domestic chores and childcare. In our jobs we try endlessly to please, when that’s not really how the system works. ‘The world of work is still largely based on traditional male values of competition, long hours, networking and single-minded self-interest,’ says Anne Dickson. ‘We never feel entirely comfortable in that culture, which contributes to our sense of feeling out of control, and at the mercy of someone else’s rules in general.’

The typical female response is to avoid the politics and work extra-hard, hoping that someone will notice, which in turn makes us feel resentful. Or we go all out to be as tough and self-serving as possible – and then end up feeling guilty about it.

Oh yes, Guilt. I’d rather not get started on the causes and reasons for guilt: I think it’s enough to say, with no fear of disagreement, that most women have too much of it. (I have only ever met a few men in my lifetime that fit in this category). When we try to tune out other people’s feelings and do something for ourselves we feel guilty. (I could have said, ‘Sorry Dad, I can’t visit today, because I’m working. I can pop down on Sunday morning when I’m free,’ but I’d have felt bad all day.) And we assume we’re so good at mind reading that we don’t realize that we sometimes get it wrong. Take my friend Eleni, who complained that she spent half her life desperately taking on extra projects and staying on at the office, in an effort to please her boss. ‘She is one of those cool women that don’t say much’, admits Eleni ‘I was convinced that she was disappointed in me.’ Finally, her appraisal came up – and went well. Although her boss had never complained about her work, she hadn’t praised her either, so into the vacuum of her silence Eleni had poured disapproval and disappointment. ‘As a rule, if your boss isn’t complaining, you can take it you’re doing fine. If you are concerned, ask for an appraisal, and have proper meetings to clarify what your responsibilities are and discuss your performance. Second-guessing what someone else wants often backfires.’

A few days ago I wrote a blog which made fun of my obsession with self-help books, joking aside, there ‘are’ some good books out there that will help you take control and make your life your own again if you really are feeling that you are out of control. There will always be obligations to fulfill, and wanting to make the people we love happy is not a failing. But, as the experts point out, life should be a balance between what we owe to other people and what we owe to ourselves…

Blonde and Innocent...

People tend to ask a lot of us…

We are constantly asked to donate, attend, volunteer, eat or buy. Had we the kindest of wills, the deepest of bank accounts and the most wide open of schedules, we could never do it all, and so, the ability to say no politely and with grace is an essential social skill that must be acquired and soon.

If you're female, it seems, saying no is especially difficult and I don’t mean saying no to drugs or to sexual pressure, I'm talking about the difficulty of saying 'no' to parents, other family members, good friends, clients and associates. Far too many females’ particularly Mediterranean females have been raised since birth to be dutiful people-pleasers, even after so many decades of feminist gains, many women, young and old, feel intensely guilty about saying NO.

Still, we need to learn to set boundaries if are to help others without losing ourselves, we have to remember, offering kindness is not the same as being a doormat! If you have ever felt this level of pressure my advice is to set limits agree to meet a parent, friends, associate for lunch, but tell them it has to end by 1:30 because you have a 2 p.m. Be honest explain that you have other things you just have to do, honesty makes a better foundation for a friendship than falsehoods, even if little white lies are intended to spare someone's feelings and are easier to use sometimes.

If you consistently have a tough time refusing honestly, ask yourself why: is this relationship based on favours? Are you concerned the other person will hold a grudge? If the relationship is that fragile, maybe it's not worth having.

Make a list of all the people to whom you feel bonded, and consider the return on investment you're getting from that relationship, ask yourself which ones enrich you -- and which ones make you feel wrung out and depleted. Harsh as it sounds, we need to divest ourselves off relationships that yield consistent losses if we don't, we’ll just run out of the energy that we need to connect with others, more important others like our immediate loved ones who really need and deserve our time and who offer us something in return.

First and foremost, we need to extricate ourselves from relationships with those I like to refer to as Octopi, "people who possess myriad sucking tentacles of emotional need ... masters at catalyzing guilt and obligation; they operate by squeezing pity from everyone they meet." People who drain our energy that way, like people who overload us with their problems or who judge us or belittle us, however subtly, are no good for us -- and we owe it to ourselves to say no to having them in our lives…

Lou’s tip of the day: Remember it’s a two way street people...

Ladybug Lady: Quote Of The Day

Switch off your Blackberry's, mobile phones and stop Facebooking! It will be the death of you...

Bare Necessities

Lulu, lists and life...

By the time you switch on your pc and start reading our blog today, I will (for the first time in years) be relaxing (in bed with breakfast and my copy of Grazia!). Where you ask? Now that would be telling... No kids, no housework, no mobile (yes, NO mobile phone!), no work and NO ‘to do’ lists to tick off… pure bliss.

Don’t get me wrong, ever since I embarked (two weeks ago to be exact) on writing lists and itemizing my life in general, I ‘have’ been ‘kind of’ organized. I have grown to love a list. I really have. Shopping lists, work lists, ‘do today’ lists…in fact I’m so enamoured of lists that I’m verging on the obsessive/compulsive. But you see, I ‘had’ to start to do them because recently my life had become a little too chaotic for my own good and I was on the verge of buying my own ‘designer’ straight jacket! Now that’s where my lists ‘stop’ though, nothing more exciting than ‘domestic’. A single friend of mine, though, has taken the list a step further than most of us, she has devised the ‘perfect man’ shopping list.

You know what I’m talking about. That ridiculously specific, and truly unrealistic, mental checklist of what women want from a date or partner. The ‘I-Need-A-Tick-By-Every-Box-Or-I Won’t-Even-Consider-Him’ list. Come on Lola(and all you single ladies out there) you have got to stop being so bloody picky! Of course there are obvious must-haves (sense of humour, solvency, good looks, not already married…), but short nails? Big shoulders? Good shoes? Really, desert boots should not be a deal-breaker at our age. I’m serious. We’re (and I think I can safely speak for most single women at my age) going too far with these requirements. A friend of a friend is the perfect example. This, and I swear it’s true, is her list. He has to be: rich, a fitness fanatic, hair-free on his back, foreign (non-Greek, so that her babies will be mixed race, bilingual and beautiful) and (purely for aesthetic reasons) circumcised! Dear Lord! (Not that He’d be good enough for her either.)

Mind you, even she’s not as bad as Geri Halliwell (yuk!), whose perfect man list before she met aristocrat Henry Beckwith, apparently ran to nigh on 50 requirements and included being able to travel first class, bringing her soup when she’s ill and ‘liking’ her dog. How do I know this? That’s why I read Grazia and Hello… ’But we should have standards’, I hear you cry. True, but ‘having standards’ is a bit different from ‘demanding the bloody impossible’. You do deserve the perfect man, but you’ll have more chance of finding him if you haven’t eliminated 99.9 per cent of the world’s male population with your ‘Oh-And-He’s-Got-To-Be’s’. You have to bin your ‘men’ shopping lists or you’ll end up on your ownsome drinking vodka in your pj’s whilst singing along to ‘All by myself’. (Yes, just like Brigitte Jones). Believe me, I do know what I’m talking about. When I was an art student, my own mental ‘man’ list had the usual ‘phwoar’ elements,etc, but my specifics were way too specific. He had to be creative, awesomely dressed (which meant having the same dress sense as Paul Weller from the Style Council then), support Chelsea FC and to share my love of dead movie stars from the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s! The result? I didn’t have a proper relationship until I was in my twenties. And not that that particular one satisfied the list completely, he was close, and more importantly then, pretty cute. But then, when that relationship ended, my new amended list was basically a top-to-toe description of him – but without the ‘I’m leaving London to move to Cyprus’ bit.

So you see I have had to sit my friend Lola down (who has been virtually date-less for the last two years) grab her by the neck and almost throttle some sense into her by telling her to ‘Give them a bloody chance! What the hell is wrong with you?!’ Having scared her into a corner with my ‘pep’ talks, guess what? A six foot, dirty blond, olive-skinned, blue-eyed, guitar-playing, writer has asked her out. And she said ‘yes’. And ‘yes’ to the second date, and ‘yes’ to the third date…and guess what?
All of a sudden after that she also became heavy-metal loving and bald men have been added to her ‘man list’ too. Red-heads and City-boys in pinstripe suits, and even men with beards! All completely different from each other, all not fitting her old ‘list’ and all pretty nice guys.

She phoned me the other day and thanked me for ‘throttling’ the ‘no list’ into her. She said she felt absolutely liberated. So you see girls, dropping prejudices and widening your net means you experience so much more (until you find ‘the man’) I mean. Lola discovered a host of things; how to play the guitar, that FTSE wasn’t just toe-orientated foreplay; and laughing at heavy metal music. Really hard). If she had stuck to her list she would never had met such interesting potentials. It’s about not being blinkered and opening up a whole new world of lovely men (yes there are some here too) to choose from. If you ask my married friends (I have a lot of single friends that still have to ditch their lists) who are ‘happily’ married, they got there by binning their lists. My mate Eleni always searched for tortured musicians but ended up with a man so at ease with himself that he ‘didn’t just have kitchen roll in his flat, but a kitchen roll holder!’ My friend Maria went against type, too, ‘I always chose tall men and I resisted my now-husband just because he was the same height as me – even though he had everything I wanted. But then I realized how mad I was being and decided to grow up and go for it. And very happy we are, too’.

Uh huh, grow up indeed. When you’re 17 it’s fine to reject someone because of his haircut. But at 30-something? One word: hairdresser (barber if he’s old-fashioned!). The bottom line is these lists are unfair. Unfair to us (we’ll never find the perfect specimen) and unfair to men. Can you imagine if men had such lists for us? And if cellulite and less-than-bouncy boobs weren’t on them? Do you see the level of cruelty I am talking about?

Jerome Kern - The Way You Look Tonight

Dean Martin

Wedding in Sicily - with Godfather theme song

Nothing wrong with tradition, just make sure the couple actually do love each other:-)

Pushy Mediterranean Mothers…

Since moving to this small Greek island I now call home, I’ve found that a lot—not all—local mothers are obsessed with marrying off their off-spring particularly their not so confident daughters. For some, it seems as if by getting their daughter hitched is not just one of their goals but the defining achievement of their life and the final missing puzzle of their overall success. For others if their poor child isn’t married by a certain point they’ll somehow feel incomplete or that their life is a failure when I say their I refer to the mother not the daughter.

These poor girls are brainwashed by daily mantras from these overbearing mothers:

“You need a man.”

“I’m tired of you being single; my friends keep asking if you have met someone.”

“You’ve been on three dates why hasn’t he proposed yet?”

“You’re ready for marriage”

This is just a sampling of the statements these poor girls are subjected to on a daily basis. The problem is, I very rarely hear any of these mothers speak about love—at least it’s not the first thing they bring up. The focus always seems to be on their daughter’s age and marriage, like a husband is the consolation prize for maturing.

Attention all you girls out there, sorry, life, and more specifically love, doesn’t work that way.

At the end of the day, marriage is merely a legal contract. Yes, people swear before God and take vows (or whatever it is they choose to do to consummate their union) but the fact of the matter is you’re signing paperwork and documentation to legally bind yourself to another person ’til death do you part or ’til your divorce allows you to part, whichever comes first.
You see, love is something completely separate from the institution of marriage.

It’s the glue that makes the union work because a ring won’t make you happy for long. That marriage certificate won’t put a smile on your face every night. That “fabulous” wedding dress won’t keep you warm at night. That massive reception and the three thousand envelopes filled with cash won’t feed your soul forever and ever.

A marriage can’t and won’t be able to do any of the above, but love will. I’m not talking about that “ I really like you because you treat me well” type of love. I’m talking about that “You make me a better person, I want to spend the rest of my life with you” type of love. That real love…

All you pushy mother’s out there back off or Lou will have something to say!

Home Office...

Lulu, some ideas for the home office, hope you like them :-)

Is it worth it, Lou?

It is sometimes necessary in business to make the decision to drop a frustrating client. Even in this critical economy, one of the most refreshing things a consultant can do is tell a client it is no longer possible to work with them - or make it impossible for them to continue with you. It could be for any number of reasons that you have to do this, but no money in the world is worth dealing with a client who does not appreciate you, is overly demanding, causes stress or - worst of all - does not pay what he or she owes you. So how do we know when it’s really time to set that client loose?
Retaining clients who are a drain and have a negative impact on your work will always make you less productive and less profitable. The biggest enemy of sustained growth and success is the belief that “I can’t afford to lose this client”. In truth, what you need to say to yourself is that there is no way you CAN afford to keep problematic clients. They create more work, more stress and cause you to burn out much quicker. In the long run, they will do very little to improve your career or lead to referrals. Our problem, however, is that we tend to stick with a client if we’ve been working with them for a while, simply because it’s safer, and it’s more difficult (not to mention a little scary) to find new clients. So we stay with bad clients for longer than we should.






The examples below should be a strong indicator that it’s time to let that difficult client GO.



Overly critical of your work: While there is no need to have thin skin and good honest constructive criticism is always helpful and educational, there are those clients who take it a step too far and complain about everything and anything. The client who is never happy and makes you doubt your skills with everything you do is the client you want to get rid of. If you can’t ever please them, why bother? You will produce better quality work and have a much more pleasant experience when you work with a client who sees value in what you do. More often than not they overly criticize in order to avoid making full payment of the services you have provided!



Emotionally unbalanced: While no one will doubt that we are all human (sometimes you have to wonder, though…) and people get emotional, angry and upset from time to time, there is a limit, a fine line when erratic behaviour gets in the way of a professional relationship. We have all had that one client, and I have had many, that you are not sure why they are not taking medication because they are all over the place, making it impossible to get straight answers and constructive feedback on your work. This interferes with your work and is a recipe for disaster.





Asking you to always go beyond the scope of work agreed: On occasion you may be asked for something extra that is fine and part of the consultant-client relationship. But if a client is always asking for you to do extra work and is never willing to pay you for your time and effort above and beyond the original scope of the project, then you should consider ceasing your work arrangement with them. It either means he is trying to cheat you or does not know how to budget and scope out projects. Obviously, neither is a good thing.

Asking for speculative work before they actually hire you: Clients will sometimes ask to “see what you can do”, in order to, as they say “to find out if you’re a good fit”. This is a huge warning sign. Make it your rule that you do not do free work for someone who is considering hiring you for a project. What you need to do is hold your cards close to you and say “You can see many examples of this in my portfolio”.

Clients who are just cheapskates: It is generally understood that the cheapest clients who do not want to pay for your time and are always looking for a bargain will expect the quickest turn around and the most amount of work. If your client does not feel that your work is of value and that your time is worth something, equivalent to theirs, then you are not in the right place.

Exit with Grace…
• Always tell them of your intentions in writing. You have a captive audience. No one can cut you off.
• Let them know that as a professional you fully intend to complete all of the work you agreed on.
• Perhaps offer a referral to someone who may be better suited to work with this client in order to complete the project… (Poor bastard!)
• Don’t lie to them about the reason you are doing this. If it comes up, which you can be sure it will, find the most graceful way of telling them what caused this to happen.