Here in the former colonies, Victoria Day is sort of a low-key holiday in the sense that there are surprisingly few Victorian activities planned by the local villages and cities. Much to my chagrin, around these parts, what IS popular is "Fire Cracker" exploding and beer drinking (in certain parts of Canada, this is known as the May "two-four" weekend, which is a slang term for a 24 pack/case of beer). Drunk people operating explosives: BAD IDEA. I almost went batty due to a whole weekend of sleeplessness caused by my need to calm my poor doggy every night until the wee hours. He is deathly afraid of fireworks. Sleeplessness aside, yesterday was spent in the backyard playing that oh-so-Victorian game, CROQUET. I love how this game is both so civilized and ruthless at the same (I'm thinking of the rule that allows you to knock an opponent's ball to somewhere impossible once your ball hits theirs---I'm suddenly reminded of the famous croquet scene in the opener of that nasty little 80s teen movie, Heathers). I'm a wee bit sunburned and freckly in the face and have some very bizarre tan lines on the tops of my feet after a scorching weekend in the sun (I should have worn a hat to Avonlea), but all in all, a fabulous time was had.
"Is this how you hold the croquet mallet?" Ours is a travel set so we had to modify the techniques to get the ball to roll. Although I've got some Edwardian vintage to be added to the shop in a while, I personally don't own any dresses from this era, so I wore my light and airy dotted swiss 1930s "Letty Lynton" inspired dress instead (thanks, Retrogal!)
Assessing the playing field
Queen Victoria had her tricolor Cavalier, Dash. I have my boy, Chance. He served as sort of a croquet caddy...also, he kept throwing his ball onto the field, so we had to play fetch and croquet at the same time.
Hullo, bloggers! May I kiss you?
Le Baron won both rounds. "Off with your head!" shrieked the Baroness
Beware the sign of the x. Good game, chap, but are you sure you should have crossed the Red Queen?
B. doesn't wear vintage (YET) but I applaud his Gatsby pink polo (and hilarious golfer's tan lines on his feet). He'll be wearing 1930s linen suits by the end of the summer if I have my way. Next year, a full wardrobe ;)
After-croquet refreshments: homebrewed iced tea and egg salad on baguettes.
Already scheming how to win next round (and how to address these foot tanlines)....