LOLA'S DELICIOUS DAY IN MARVELLOUS MARBELLA!

For dear blogpals in the UK with its rather wet

summer and those in the southern hemisphere

winter, I thought you might like to spend the

day in HOT HOT Marbella! First we’ll drive into

town (the cops in the sidebar are our chauffeurs

for the day! Clive’s got the day off - said he’s

tired from all that hanging around in the sidebar

below),have a stroll around the old town before

lunch, then on to Puerto Banus for some serious

retail therapy! Above is the map for the route we’ll take...
But first, hop aboard our Rolls Royce Silver Spirit!

or the just unveiled Bentley Mulsanne!

Or there’s this Harley D for those who’d prefer
more thrills & spills (especially if my PA’s driving!)

Let’s first drive through the famous Marbella Arch

stop for coffee in busy Plaza de los Naranjos

and wander around the streets of the old town
before lunch in our private room at Novelli’s

And here’s Jean-Christophe to prepare lunch!

Bon appétit!

And now on to Puerto Banus!

Quick, let’s make for the marina

and our own private yacht for coffee, liqueurs and, er,
people watching!

Phew! Let’s work off lunch by hitting the shops!
Psst! There’s a shedload of expensive designer

shops here! And that means only one thing: we and

our debit cards will be best friends once again :)
But wait, let’s get our bearings...

and have a look first at Loewe...
Is that someone you know outside?

and over there at Lanvin too?!!

Fine, let’s go next to Bulgari...

and then on to Vuitton! Wow!

Next up Hermès! What shall we choose?

and at Jimmy Choo’s?

But it’s getting late, we’re all exhausted and our

chauffeurs over there are looking so impatient!
But, hey, here’s Valentino waving us goodbye!
Well, we did flash the cash, didn’t we!!

Grrrh! Grrrh! Grrh! Agh! Agh! Agh!
Grrh! Grrh! Grrh! Agh! Agh! Agh! Grrh!

What a great day; great sunset too, eh?!

And you’ve all been such wonderfully witty

company! But where did YOU splash the cash (real or

imaginary)?! Hope you can join me again next

Thursday for a drive up into the hills to some

of Andalucia’s famous white villages...
See you then!

And this Saturday too for some of Lola’s

last-minute vacation wear ideas!! xx

xxxLOL LOLA:)

LOLA'S BACK!! ~ YOUR LOLA LIFELINE!

You know, these should really be called The Lola Diaries ’cos what I’ve got to say is sooo much more intelligent and interéssant than the drivel and waffle that woman with the wild, fair hair writes. The reason, mes chers lecteurs, is très simple! Here in the southern Mediterranean, ALL canines are permitted INSIDE restaurants where we don’t just collapse on the floor, endlessly lick our privés parts and drool listlessly but, au contraire, we pick up all kinds of information you humans shamelessly hurl about en particulier when you’ve had a bouteille too many of Puligny Montrachet or (my favourite!) Château Pétrus.



For instance, one of my chums (pic above) close to the PM, Señor Zapatero, in Madrid regularly picks up in restaurants and in Señor Zapatero’s own Palacio de la Moncloa not just snippets of the latest gossip about other leaders (Ooh, M Sarkozy!! Ooh, S. Belusconi!! If you only knew!!) but top, top secrets as well. (But as a lady, I couldn’t possibly comment… In fact, I’m blushing now but you would never know - all that fabulous fur you understand.) Moreover, this Saturday, Norawoman is taking me to Jean-Christophe Novelli’s new restaurant in Marbella (Señora Noriega is going out with Juan Antonio) so, ’cos it’s a top French restaurant, one should expect a better breed of canine there and, who knows, I just might pick up yet another e-x-c-l-u-s-i-v-e for you!


But enough of that and back to The Lola Diaries which I know you’re just itching to hear more about! Now, since my fanmail is getting so huge, I’ve been doing a bit of thinking and have come to the conclusion I should put myself about a bit (you know, like all those wanabee singers and actors and failing prime ministers). And go on YouTube! But then I overheard Norawoman (as you know, I made her my PA though she’s pretty hopeless), muttering (she thinks when I’m lying in my basket with my eyes closed, everything else is closed down too) how naff that would be ’cos only needy people like Susan Boyle and Gordon Brown go after PR on YouTube.

So, until my fame goes truly GLOBAL and the Delectably Divine Duo (Oprah and Obama) come knocking on my basket (meanwhile I’ll steer clear of Jonathan Ross - I don’t want any embarrassing messages about MY love life left on the answer machine - and the British Government Minister who recently took a peek at my website!), I’ve decided to do what I do best. Namely to give advice. To you, chers lecteurs. Totally free. Ever since I was a puppy in New Labour puppybaccalauréatacadémie, you understand, my advice was always being sought and so I feel it incumbent on myself - no, my duty! - to pass on these snippets of my wisdom.


One day last week, for instance, I had a long, serious chat with my puppy-nephew (above) about his future. “I’ve been giving the matter a lot of thought recently, and I’ve finally come to a landing. I want to do absolutely nothing useful with my life,” he admitted at last, removing his iPod with a yawn and rolling over on his side to face the sun. “But why don’t you take a more positive attitude?” I replied. “Why not become a small-time crook? A cowboy roof builder, a layabout on benefit scams, a bag snatcher, a mugger of old people, drive a black Seat at 140kph on Spanish roads at the same time tailgating and overtaking on the inside lane, become a call centre robot, work for one of the Chinese Triads, maybe become a real hoodlum and apply for an intern post in one of the banks still left standing.” He chewed loudly on yet another Bonio as he thoughtfully considered my advice. “The bank idea sounds OK,” he answered, stifling another yawn, “although I’d rather steal from them. If I must work, I’d prefer to have a more lasting effect on the country, something that will go down in history. If I’m going to grow up to become a crook, I want to be a REAL crook!” “Well, in that case,” I replied after the briefest of pauses, “why don’t you become a Member of Parliament, the British Parliament?” And if he takes my sound advice, there’ll be no end of opportunities for all his accomplishments…


Pro tem, I’ve decided to call my advice column YOUR LOLA LIFELINE!. Pro tem, you understand, ‘cos, when my fame truly does go international, I may have to change it. After all, all my fans in the Middle East may think I’m offering help with my lifeline to those ghastly pirates off their coasts! So, if you have any problems or queries you’d like me to respond to (dealt with anonymously if preferred), don’t hesitate to let me know (or my PA, Nora) in the COMMENTS BOX BELOW!

However bizarre, outlandish or insoluble it may seem, I’ll have an answer to that dilemma of yours! So why hesitate any longer? Go on and write to me, Agony Aunt to the Blogosphere, in the comments box NOW!

And remember, YOUR LOLA LIFELINE! - your lifeline to a saner, more harmonious, beauteous world. Just like mine in fact!

LOL LOLA!

P.S. As you know, I'm a French breed and adore all things French! The lovely Karyn at French Charminghas a French giveaway (which would look sooo charmant on my coiffure commode!). Go visit her gorgeous site now!