I will try and keep this organised without too many tangents

I am typing this on Liz’s laptop in her study while my clothes that reek of smoke rotate in her washing machine. I have spent the day with Sarah, Sonia and Leanne in Haywards Heath, putting the world to rights, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and getting sun burnt. Great fun.

I cooked breakfast this morning while TB went off to work, we had both packed last night, him for cricket, me for the Race for Life. We went into the American Bar and had a beer, then onto the Still and West where we watched the boats go by and had fish and chips for dinner. People must think we are a right miserable pair, we quite happily sit there and not talk, content in each other’s company, people watching and luxuriating in being still. We have both recognised there are days that we only see each other for about 35 minutes, and that includes the car journey to the station, so we do enjoy spending time together – we are just a pair of nosey gits who also like people watching.

Today is a case in point, I found myself on the outside of the conversation sometimes, because I was too busy looking at someone else, so I drifted off, lost track of what people were saying and had to concentrate to pick up the thread again. That didn’t have anything to do with the £150 bar tab we ran up in 8 hours, between 4 of us. Two other people helped, but they had 5 drinks between them, so they can’t really count! Oh, I forgot, you need to include lunch on that too.

We had to close the tab down as the barman was finishing his shift, so we decided to go for some dinner, tried Prezzo couldn’t get in at 19:10! So went up to Zizzi’s. Big mistake, although my risotto was good, I was so hungry it didn’t touch the sides, we asked for a non-smoking table, and we given one right above a table full of tweenagers, all who chain smoked, and most of which would have been hard pushed to drink legally. Why don’t people ask for ID in restaurants? Why do people think that it is OK to smoke around other people who are eating, we were all laughing trying to work out if we could squeeze a fart out when their food had been delivered, but none of us could fart to order. Roll on July 01!

When we tried to pay our bill, it was £13.05 each, so the stupid bint rung through £30.05 for Sonia and I, I didn’t even notice as the terminal was handed to me without the price showing – point to note there everyone! If all of us had paid that much, they would have had nearly double the money, Sarah had enough cash to pay for hers. We didn’t leave a tip, and had I not had to get a train, I would have asked for money off the bill as it was so smokey, but in the end we couldn’t wait. Especially as she made such a palaver about her mistake with terminal.

So hence the washing, as I can’t sleep with it stinking up the room, I have had a shower and while I wait for the washing to finish so I can hang it up, I thought I would blog for the masses. Although it still seems that Aged Parents don’t read this. I will have to drop a coded bombshell into it one day to see if they notice… bwhahahaha, evil ain’t I.

You should have seen some of the outfits today. We must be getting really old or are missing something, we definitely missed the ‘Dress like you are in Heat magazine/trailer trash invite’ for Saturday afternoon. We also carried our handbags like bags as oppose to crippling our elbows by slinging them over a la Nicole Richie/Victoria Beckham/Paris Hilton. Although I don’t think where she is residing has much call for the bag of the moment. I like handbags, they are much easier to buy than shoes for me, but my ex-husband used to buy them for me to compensate for not being there/being an a*se/the list is endless. Considering how the marriage ended up, I should have hung out for the Mulberry bag I saw in Harvey Nicks last weekend. I love my Radley bags, and enjoyed saving up for them, I brought a voluminous brown leather bag from M&S when I got my bonus earlier this year that I am using practically everyday with the satchel I brought in the Tate, but I (like most other women) don’t need any more. So why do we have to put up with being made to feel passe when we don’t have the latest thing? Was there a stampede for Kate Moss’ latest collection? I don’t know, I don’t care. I haven’t been in TopShop for years as I am fed up with what passes for clothes in there, they are badly made, overpriced and above all – naff.

I asked the girls today why the following is suddenly supposed to be the ‘ideal’:
Thin to the point of emaciation, head looking like it is too big for your body, jawline like a Belsen victim, skin dyed orange-brown, fake square nails, hair extensions – preferably blonde with brown roots, boobs out, teeter totter heels – preferably wedges, skinny jeans, enormous handbags – preferably with a small animal in and no conversation because you are too busy standing outside shops to get the next latest thing to read/watch/listen to anything of value. Whatever happened to originality? Why do we think we are being ‘good’ by starving ourselves?

The world has gone mad, and I thank goodness that I have the likes of the four girls I spent so long with today and Mum, Liz and Erika to laugh at it with. I don’t think the ‘birthday girl’ (good typo I corrected there – git not girl) would have taken her balloon back home with her. ‘Happy Birthday to Kaleigh the Slag’. Her parents must be so proud…


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