Port Grimaud in the French Riviera

21 June 2016

Let's all say a huge great big hello to the most inaptly named village in the French Riviera. Port Grimaud evokes images of a dark town with black buildings, lots of iron work, fire, smoke and probably loadsa horrible little goblins holding lanterns and grunting at you as you walk past (...too far?). But in actuality, despite its nasty little name, it's a really cute place. Kinda like Venice. Just with a lack of overpriced gondolas and, praise the lord, far fewer selfie sticks.



Also, had you visited Port Grimaud in 1959 you would have been very disappointed because - interesting fact alert - the village wasn't actually built until the 1960s by French architect Francois Spoerry. He literally built the whole thing on the water, total dude.

Have you visited South of France before? 
And as always you can join the party on Bloglovin', Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

Plan de la Tour, France

12 June 2016

Good things come to those who wait. Good things also come to those who wait four days longer than expected because their Easyjet flight got cancelled and they had to return back to work with their tail between their legs for three whole days before finally flying out to Nice on the second attempt. Yep, true story. Anyway - I am finally here in Plan de la Tour, France and I don't ever ever ever want to leave.




It's early evening and I'm sitting outside on the porch drinking sparkling rosé with my beaut little mumma and if that isn't the most heavenliest heaventastic heavenly thing then I don't know what is. And I've got five whooole more days of this. Excuse me while I blissfully slurp beaucoup de vin and eat an olive. Vive la France, indeed. 

As always you can join the party on  Twitter,  Bloglovin' Facebook and Instagram. Super huge big kisses for you if you do, I cherish every single last one of ya.

Pinch me moments in Paris

06 June 2016


You know those moments in life that are so freaking babein’ that you have to pinch yourself? But not too hard because you sure as hell don’t wanna wake up from such a heavenly stupor? Well I suppose that if you're a super positive Pamela they can happen a lot but if you’re a run of the mill Ronda like me and practically every other human bean on earth, bar maybe Ghandi (who, by the way, must have been EXHAUSTED from all that loving and general goodliness because I can barely even muster a genuine smile before 9am) then they don’t come round all that often….but when a pinch me moment does rock up at your door it’s like Christmas and chocolate and Channing rolled into one.

One of these moments unexpectedly walloped me right in the face a few years back when leaving our Parisian apartment after months of winter. Paris can be fit as in the worst of weather but god when the sun shines it’s literally something else. And for the first time in months it was shining and people were laughing and jovial and gay. In my romanticized version of events there was French organ music, the smell of croissants floating through the streets and I was wearing a beret, but to be quite honest I was probably just full of cheese and not looking forward to 4 hours of excitable French kids. But such is the power of nostalgia, eh. Either way, I felt like the happy Gods had just smited me with their happiest happy-smites. And it was good. Pinch me (but not too hard). 

Well, to be quite honest with you I feel like I went off on a superfluously wordy tangent up there so to quote directly from American writer, Henry Miller, who not only summed the hell out of my feelings but also did it succinctly;
When spring comes to Paris the humblest mortal alive must feel that he dwells in paradise.
And I couldn't agree more. As always you can join the party on  Twitter,  Bloglovin' Facebook and Instagram. Super huge big kisses for you if you do, I cherish every single last one of ya.

London love bug strikes again (+MeeBox)

01 June 2016

I feel as though if good ol' Leo da Vinci was still alive and kicking in 2k16 he'd stop painting Mona with her silly, smug face and start painting the architectural delights of London instead. Yeah baby I've been to London again and hell yes I'm tough enough I've fallen victim to the LondonLoveBug once more. That shit is more contagious than bubonic bloody plague. London is the tits. The titty tit tits. See previous over enthusiastic London post here. 

The other thing that has caused me Great Happiness this week is the MeeBox. As a woman who religiously paints her nails Every Single Sunday like I'm in some lacquer loving polish worshiping cult - I'm sorry but I just cannot comply, accept or forgive you for chipped nail varnish -  the Meebox is everything the nail gods could ask for.

For starters, the ZOYA nail polish included in this month's box is so good/quick drying/of a perfect consistency that within 10 minutes of rolling it out for it's first painting extravaganza I had ordered sixty two quids worth of the stuff in various colours (it's pay day, cut the slack, mate). But in short, for twenty quid per month you get three nail polishes as well as nail treatments/tools (worth around £35) and, as the website itself states and I wholly concur, "monthly euphoria".

Thanks so much to Bhavna at MeeBox for hooking me up with these exciting new garms - you really...nailed it (sorry not sorry). 

And as always you can join the party on Bloglovin', Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

Ps. I really hope that at least some of you got my Ed Milliband reference at the start. God love him. #Millifandom