I was tempted to just reprint January’s, but you’d all have seen through that one. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you!
As someone helpfully pointed out to me, the longest day has been and gone. So from the 22nd we’re headed for Christmas, the days are getting shorter, and we’ve not been able to see the ‘Super Moon’ through the gloom. Cheery thought isn’t it? Someone else was blaming it on climate change. I’m starting to take it personally. You know that little grey cloud that sits above your head in cartoons, just drizzling. Jingle bells!
Long days have been spent in the shop, the three of us huddled round a Green Tea and Jasmine scented candle for warmth taking it in turns to see if it is still snowing outside. I’m still swathed in cashmere and fur, and that’s just my underwear. I may never wear my mankini again; it will remain mothballed, because given the cold weather outside that may be the size of them. Sometimes the moth wins! It’s an old bullfighting joke. I’ll just send the mankini to Mateo he’ll make so much more use of it in La Coruna, as he dips his big toe into the Bay of Biscay! He may even play tennis in it. Grown men may weep at this thought, his svelte, tanned frame runnung about the court, dashing hither and thither after that green furry ball. Well as long as he keeps taking the tablets, the infection should clear up.
Eventually the weather will break, like the ice that has formed on the lake in St James Park. The great unwashed will be semi-covered in last year’s shrunken, faded t-shirts, which have ridden up to expose a ‘Pasty’ (a man’s muffin top), with ‘Daisy Duke’s’ and Havaianas. You’ll be able to see the hard skin, the infected toe nails and hairy feet. Must check that I’m sending this after lunch! So, what about me? Well my toe nails are painted, red, yellow and pink if you must know, in homage to a “friend”, she says she enjoys painting them; so if it stops her drawing on the walls, all the better for me. (See photo). I wash my feet when I shower, dry between my toes and wax the hairs on the soles on my feet. I’m ready for summer, or at least a pair of open toed sling backs. Louboutins are my faves, but they say so much about my life away from the shop. However it doesn’t stop me waddling like Dick Emery.
There is a new expression I have learnt, “Dwell time”. Please explain? I’m never in one place long enough to dwell. Dwelling means you’re not doing anything, what a waste. D’well sounds like a child’s name. What is your son called? D’well. What does he do? F*%! Knows, he just hangs! Oh, how super he works in a gallery! He sounds like my sons D’saster and D’stroy.
Very soon, sleep will be re-evaluated as? Sorry, I am stumbling around in the dark to find a new way of describing it! I suppose you could describe at as the time before you stub your toe on the way to the bathroom at 3am, or as a @Non twitter period.
Blow me down with a feather, but the sun has come out. I am going to take a short break to wander outside and strip naked to warm my skin. You know, for someone who air dries, it hasn’t been the easiest of years. I try to shed as much water as possible before exposing myself to the elements, but given that the outside temperature has been akin to the freezing point of Nitrogen, I have been careful not to rub too briskly, anything that may be blue!
Then Michael has been complaining about his knees. In the cold weather he said that the sound of his knees as he climbs stairs is like listening to his granny knitting on coke! I would recommend a heavy dose of cod liver oil every day, but I’m not a doctor. Because if I was, I’d make sure we got his dear old gran off the gear. I have seen how it has affected close friends, and it’s not pretty.
Sunil was here briefly, and we put a chinchilla collar on the cashmere shirt we made him (See photo). He is taking a sabbatical, a year in Provence, to play the piano, relax, spend less time on a plane and more time on a sun lounger. That is so, “Behind the Candelabra”. His pedometer will be of absolutely no use whatsoever. Perhaps from time to time he’ll put down his strawberry daiquiri, and venture onto the tennis court.
Eventually he will get bored, but until that moment he will relax to the max. Abrazo fuerte amigo.
Meanwhile I will pine for the beaches of Ibiza.
Perhaps the rest of you will be headed for ‘Pride’. The weather will ensure that Soho will be even sweatier than normal. I was there last night trying to find something to eat. In the end I had to console myself with a cup cake and a latte. Well I am so metrosexual. I just preferred it to wandering round trying to avoid touching people, yes both men and women who were dressed in strips of leather. These strips of leather didn’t appear to be holding anything back, the flesh oozed out of the gaps in between and the strips really looked as though they were painfully tugging on the piercings. Maybe that’s the point, maybe I’m just old fashioned, but I haven’t seen anything like that since the 80’s. But that’s another story best not told here! At least I can recycle the leather strips into the handles for my bags. Now you know where they come from!
Rather interestingly, they are going to be left with some very fetching tan lines.
Excellent, the sun has come out again today and we are expecting 26C!!! Jake will be at the Olympic Park to see his hero Bruce Springsteen. Son, don’t forget the sun tan lotion!
Obviously whilst the support acts are on he will be honing himself to the peak of physical perfection on the surrounding facilities. Next season he will be The Wolves new star signing. I hear he’s signed a new deal for an undisclosed weekly salary.
Finally a friend and I were in Ibiza briefly for some more work, and were entertained by Neil and Eugene.
As her tattoo says; Pain and Pleasure Alternate.
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