Category Archives: Uncategorized

I really must recommend the raspberry jelly at ‘Vital Ingredient’. It’s quite perfect. ‘Vital Ingredient’ is in fact more famous for providing made-to-order tossed salads and gourmet soups, but I have a gift. (I am also a little wary of ‘gourmet soups’, as once I ate an entire sprig of rosemary which had snuck its overpriced way into my soup. So scratchy). Anyway, I thought I deserved a treat today as my colleague this morning glanced at me then exclaimed, ‘You look so ILL. I mean, you look really TIRED. Are you OK? Why are your eyes all RED?’ At lunch no-one asked me about my weekend-probably because they all assumed I spent it smoking pot and gaming on my own. As it happens, I had a smashing weekend. (Thanks for asking). I popped off to the country.  I like the country tremendously. My country persona is modelled on Elizabeth Taylor (‘National Velvet’),

Robert Redford (‘Out of Africa’)

and Heidi (Switzerland).

Essentially, I am a plaited, horse-riding sexpot. I wear it well. When I am in the country, I like to imagine how clean-living and healthful I will soon be. I will live off the land! I will walk the dogs while yodelling! I will stop to whistle to the cows before pouring myself a glass of their creamy milk! (My country persona has learnt everything she needs to know about the country from Cravendale adverts). I fit in perfectly. Unfortunately, I had made my usual meteorological assumption that the weather tomorrow would be exactly the same as it was today. Luckily, I could use my cable-knit jumper as a natty neck protector against the blazing sun. (Another excellent example of my seamless blending in). I never quite got round to all the dog walking and vegetable planting, but I had a splendid time lounging in the sun and drinking wine. It’s from the land! People probably thought I was a local.

When I was 14, I called my Father. I wanted a t-shirt I had seen in Topshop. It was pink, and had a picture of a cherry pie on it, and it said ‘juicy tart’. (I’m not saying I had fabulous taste, but I knew something about branding). Anyway, I dutifully called my Father and asked if I could have £14.99. Well, if I’m being strictly honest, I asked for £17 because I needed the bus fare. My Father thought, and decided ultimately that I did not need the t-shirt as he was ‘certain’ he had seen me previously wearing a t-shirt. It is hard to argue with logic like this. I often wish I had the same fiscal restraint. And more money. Here is some free financial advice:

1. Do not spend £65 on a white Comptoir des cotonniers t-shirt. You will not look like a beautiful French country princess. You will look like you have spilled Ribena on your shirt. 

2. Sometimes, you will go out to dinner. Order everything. You’re going to split the bill, so it’s the only financially responsible thing to do. Otherwise, you’re going to end up paying £28 for a salad and a diet coke.

3. It is ALWAYS worth spending money on the following:

a) Underwear. I can’t be bothered to explain all the reasons why, but to single-handedly fight and defeat a mountain bear, whilst knitting a rug for an aged relative and updating your CV, all you need is a truly excellent bra and knicker set.*

b) Haircuts. Trust me. I once cut my little brother’s hair and he was so distressed he was EXCUSED FROM SCHOOL FOR A DAY.

c) Perfume. I don’t know what they put in those SPECIAL CLEARANCE SALE bottles, but I suspect it is the tears of cave people who have only ever eaten offal and drunk lumpy milk.

*Factually accurate.

I had to go to a funeral yesterday, which is on my list of top ten things I do not like to do. Other things on that list include emptying the dishwasher, eating mushrooms, working on the weekend and watching other people’s children in plays. (I mean, obviously if the children in question are Dakota Fanning or that little girl from ‘Little Miss Sunshine’, I can make an exception. This has never happened. The closest I’ve ever come to a talented child was when a neighbour’s little girl was asked to audition for the role of Hermione. She didn’t get it.)

Anyway, I thought today I’d talk about ways I’ve made my life far more dreamy. (Yesterday is a bad example, but usually I manage to wheedle my way out of things on my ‘top ten things I do not like to do’ list). Let me explain:

1. Obviously, I was impeccably brought up. So pretty much whatever you serve me (yes, I have real-life people in mind), I will eat. Except mushrooms. I can’t. I’m sorry. There’s got to be a limit to what people put in their mouths. I believe in fact, that’s exactly what Emily Pankhurst died for.

2. Sometimes, people ask you to do things. Often, these things are not fun. It is best in these circumstances to nod gravely, sigh, and walk away. (If you are in an enclosed space- for instance, the London Eye, it is best to place your finger on your lips and ssssh the other person. You must not desist ssssshing until they have given up. You can tell they have given up when their eyes roll back in their heads and they stop breathing. No wait, maybe that’s death. Desist before then. But not much).

3. At all events, bring a hipflask. (Do not fret-hipflasks fall within the requirements for hand-luggage on international flights). Do not share. If caught, assume wide-eyed innocence and choke down as much alcohol as possible before presenting hipflask as ’empty good luck charm’.