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Showing posts from April, 2015

Where I would sell my soul for a pair of comfortable shoes...

I don’t think it’s just me, but summer dressing for work is a nightmare.   This little burst of good weather has thrown me into a frenzy.   Things are made worse (in a good way) by being two clothes sizes smaller than I was last summer, so when I say I’ve got nothing to wear, I mean it literally.   Ok, I’ve got a couple of strapless maxi-dresses, but it’s not the kind of capable, in-charge yet (slightly) human image I like to rock in work.   And we have a no bare shoulders policy. Crisis One:   Colour.   Am I ready to bare?   Of course not.   My natural pallor makes Wednesday Adams look healthy, and I don’t want to embrace pale.   There’s a difference between ‘pale and interesting’ and ‘let’s check for a pulse’.   So, Operation Tan must commence.   And of course it’s not just a case of slapping it on.   There’s scrubbing and buffing and bed linen to consider.   It was a bit of a school-girl error to change the bed and do the tan on the same night… I’ve promoted myself over the

In which I have no plans for Easter...

I find the Easter break a bit of a strange one.   It has far less appeal when every food item has a weight-loss plan value as soon as you look at it.   Yes, that hot cross bun dripping in butter might be divine, but it costs about the same as stir-fried chicken and rice…or 3 gins!   I love chocolate, but an article in my weight-loss mag haunts me with values of 12 plus for Easter eggs – not far off half of my daily allowance.   And yes, of course I’d eat it all in one go! In my single days, me and Sister would hot-foot it to Cyprus.   The first year we were promised glorious weather, and shivered for a week.   One of our favourite haunts became a bar with an open fire.   But it was always a fantastic holiday.   We were wise in subsequent years and packed a bit better (only a bit).   Picking up fiancees, husbands, mortgages and children put paid to the Easter jaunt, so now it’s all about searching for the Perfect Day Out.   But we’re hostages to the weather and Easter opening hours