Greetings Shirleyphiles and welcome to another 40 minutes or so of low-fi lovliness!
Tragic isn’t it?
My manservant mr.Kenneth, tasked with prepping the graphic for this show,
catches me in a private moment in the back room at Chez Shirley clutching
my Francoise Hardy whilst in contact with my muse, Cocteau, then throws it
up on the net! If he wasn’t so good around the house, I’d be hunting the
personals for a replacement for sure!
As long time listeners know, its a tradition (though somewhat lapsed) for us
to celebrate Bastille Day. Why? I really have no idea. Neither of us have any
French in us, well at least not with the lights on, and neither of us can utter
a single word without tripping over a syllable or ten. Mind you, after a couple
of glasses of champers, I’m channeling Simone de Beauvoir with the best of them.
After a bottle or two, well, I’m shaking my bananas like Josephine Baker!
So for now Shirleyphiles, its time to Coco yourself silly, splish splash a little
Chanel No.5 here there and *everywhere* and go ye-ye with mr.K and yours
truly as we storm our private Bastille listening to some French people singing
in French, some English speakers singing in French and some French people
singing in English. Kooky huh? But that’s how we roll here in Chez Shirl …
like a Provencal sausage wedged between a split baguette! C’est magnifique!
Until next time, take care and remember … play fair
*be trés smooched*
laShirl and mr.Kenneth