Philosophies on London Women......

I went to a gig in London last night - Flogging Molly as it happens - the best gig I've seen in a sauna in my entire life I think!! A and I dressed up as pirates for the hell of it, and thoroughly enjoyed all the strange looks we got. (we're currently planning another outing in london in ridiculous costume - maybe Goth this time, just to see the looks on people's faces…. This could become a hobby….). Anyway, in order to get back to work today, I ended up at Victoria Station at about 6.50, with a good while to buy my breakfast and mooch around WH Smith, where I took advantage of their summer sale offers (buy one get one half price).
The book I bought is called "Liz Jones' Diary - how a single girl got married" and is basically a collection of the aforementioned Ms. Jones' columns from various newspapers from very late december 1999 onwards…. It's not at all like Bridget Jones (as I'd hoped it might be) but she's very honest and even confesses to being mean to her boyfriend about silly things. It's quite refreshing actually, to read the rants of someone else who is infuriated by the way men "leave wet towels on the bed, deposit little piles of coins everywhere and collect weird bits of paper on the mantelpiece" - and I thought it was only C who did those things!! She is, however, one of those scarily high-maintenance london women who actually shop at places like Harrods and Saks and buy Nicole Farhi china for their distressed-look kitchens. She goes for a manicure every few days, a massage/facial every week, does pilates and has her hair cut by the top person at Aveda, from whom she buys specially-blended designer conditioner just for her hair….. Seriously, there's more to life isn't there? These women make me feel quite indignant that I am a Better, Fuller, More Rounded Person than them cos I don't freak out if I break a nail, and don't wear t-shirts that cost more than £80, but at the same time I have a niggling suspicion that I am Lazy, Unkempt and Imperfect. That perhaps I should care if my toenail varnish is chipped, that perhaps I should acknowledge the existence of bad hair days and not just go out with my hair in any old mop, that I should colour-coordinate my wardrobe and keep shoes and accessories in those clear plastic shoe boxes that you can buy for about £5 a pop…. I bet these women never have to do that 'recycling' thing when you've not done any laundry and you've run out of socks, I bet they never have toothpaste stains on their bathroom sinks…..
And then I remember that I can Bake. I can Cook and Bake. I can actually Cook, Bake, Sew and Knit - and wouldn't they be jealous?? If I made them a tray of my marriage-proposal-inducing chocolate brownies, I think they'd forget all about Atkins and secretly hate me for my skill. I am also a secret believer that if you set your standards of living too high, you are consistently disappointed by life. That quaint little café on the beach somewhere suddenly becomes a fly-infested dive and you Worry about catching something…. You can't trudge happily through autumn leaves for the sheer hell of it because your suede Patrick Cox shearling boots might get stained and they cost £250. You can't share a tub of ben and jerry's with your best mates over a girlie film because if you do, your Prada suit may just be a little toooo tight for that meeting tomorrow. And then I remember why I'm not like those women. I have fun, and I'm laid back, and who cares (at the end of the day) if my legs aren't waxed every 5 weeks, or if I am still wearing those threadbare pyjamas my mum bought for me when I was sixteen. I am happy.
The other book is a chick-lit saga about a girl who revisits her mother's birthplace, called The Island. I'm looking forwards to reading it…..