I have been very proud to be British this week. It all started with the Tour de France Grand Depart, which, if nothing else, was a great way to see a birdseye view of glorious Yorkshire. It was a fantastic event for our country, with spectators flocking to watch the riders whizz past in the blink of an eye. All in the sunshine too. How lucky was that? Not so lucky were Brits Mark Cavendish and defending champion, Chris Froome, both of whom are injured and out! I think I should have kept my blog shut as it seems my calls for ‘sport support’ have jinxed us. Football, t..
Ok so he lost. Andy Murray will not be the winner of Wimbledon this year and will not be the one to save our blushes from the shambolic World Cup. Never mind, that’s yesterday’s fish and chip paper. In the mean time, let’s just dust ourselves off, chuck the tennis rackets in the cloakroom along with the footballs and get our bikes out instead. Yes, there is still hope, because the Tour de France Grand Depart took place last weekend in beautiful Yorkshire and we have the boys from Team Sky to support, not least defending champion Chris Froome. Sadly Mark Cavendish is ..
So, England are out of the World Cup and now poor Andy Murray has the hopes of a nation resting upon those sturdy shoulders of his. Can the defending Wimbledon champion cheer us all up and deliver the goods a second time around? The pressure was firmly on England and now The Muzzler must bear the load. I’ve been having butterflies ahead of my daughter’s school sport’s day and I’m not even down for the egg and spoon. Imagine how he must be feeling right now? Not only does he have to play ridiculously long tennis matches against grand slam greats in potentially searing hea..
Life can throw some horrible things at us. Take a nasty stomach bug for example, or a bereavement perhaps. Lately we’ve suffered both in our house as it happens. The first hurtled through us like a raging bull, while the second involved a note shoved in a milk bottle to say our dead cat was behind the wheelie bin. How much can a family take in one week? After the house had been fumigated, the beloved cat laid to rest and our many tears patted dry, I decided we needed some sunshine in our lives. By embarking on my very own 100-day happiness quest I resolved to chee..
As I was jogging (staggering to be more precise), down the street the other day, I noticed a man gardening outside the former home of an old school friend. Ahhh, I thought, I remember old Johnny Peabody (lets call him) playing in that garden when we were knee high to grasshoppers. The man was bald and slightly stooped. As I approached, he turned to face me. There was a flick of recognition. It WAS little Johnny Peabody. When the people you went to school with become beige-wearing, semi-retired, tea-room frequenters, you know your number is nearly up. It was bad enoug..
I can’t quite believe It’s Easter already. It only seems like two minutes since I was panic buying Christmas presents. Now I’m panic buying Easter eggs. Year in, year out, I am the last man standing, scouring the shelves for anything half decent. Hopping from supermarket to supermarket, to mini-market to corner shop to filling station. There’ll always be a three-year-old niece who ends up with an innapropriate Double Decker offering, or a brand-less bedraggled excuse for an egg with the foil peeling off. In such cases when visiting, I tend to slink in and place sa..
Since my last post bemoaning the warmer weather, spring has finally arrived (I think) and everyone is predictably delighted. The men have dusted off their three-quarter length trousers, shades are appearing atop heads and sticky feet are slowly making their way out of hibernation. Hooray… I am trying to embrace it with all my heart, as promised, and have literally got the bunting out (Little Lucy Willow, of course!), but have been perturbed that I may be the only one to feel such apprehension toward the summer. I have therefore been racking my brains to discover who el..
For this week’s blog we thought we would share with you a truly inspiring story. It’s all about a little man called Charlie who, when born, was nicknamed The Rocket! Against all the odds, he is now a 6 year old little bundle of fun and full of life.
It’s not often that a story with so many emotional highs and lows, fateful twists and turns is documented in such a way that is heart warming, humorous, feel good as well as inspirational. Not least in that the father telling this story is none other than our very own Little Lucy Willow’s Godfather. Do take a moment to visit th..
The recent sunshine has been lovely after all that terrible rain and here at Little Lucy Willow we are already preparing for summer with some gorgeous children’s nightwear. However, I have to admit, I’m more ‘woman of winter’ than ‘summer siren’. To me the heat just means I must depart with my beloved woolies and bare my arms – to the elbow at least.
I dread the evenings getting lighter, the optimistic weather stories in the paper and those photographs of the world and his wife on Brighton beach when the mercury touches 10. When this happens it truly is time to du..
Running your own business can be a stress-inducing, sleep-depriving, death-defying game. Don’t get me wrong, Little Lucy Willow is my pride and joy and I wouldn’t want to do anything else. I mean, what could be nicer than designing and sourcing beautiful children’s beds and furniture? Not to mention all the gorgeous children’s accessories we sell. I’m like kid in a sweet shop most days. But there can be as many not-so-nice parts to my job too. Parts that bring me out in a cold sweat, make my knees wobble and my hair go limp. However, none of this even comes close to th..
