Decided to start blog after far too much wine, far too early in the evening (euphemism for latish afternoon) as antidote to Dulwichmum who to date I laughed with, empathised with and until yesterday secretly admired.
However, if a hair cut by Nicky Clarke and a pair of Emma Hope shoes could solve my problems I would be content. For the past two days I have baked my own bread (this is not an Olivia Walton-type emulation but a necessity cos I have no dosh and fortunately had dried yeast for emergencies [Thames flooding/Terrorist explosion/Nostradumus-come-true occasions] in the cupboard along with a tin of SPAM. No - I didn't think it was still made until my mother, a true war child and evacuee, donated it on her last visit. I was waiting until the school fair to off-load it but must be truly thankful for small mercies.
Have now run out of envious feelings/drunk far too much wine and am going to draw my hair into a bunch and hack it myself.
Watch out Nicky - my own shampoo range to follow.
