Tuesday, February 16, 2010
So why is it that sometimes, however chic your shoes, however beautifully pressed your new silk blouse, however perfectly placed your favourite Tom Binns neckpiece, you still screw up and waste your day like someone dressed in pyjamas and a shower cap?
Despite my very best intentions, sometimes I do find myself in the sorts of situations you couldn't make up. My friend Fernando calls me "Help!" Maybe I am Bridget Jones after all? I am English...But I don't smoke and I'm not single, I don't care how many calories I ingested over dinner last night. And yet. I'm still, deep down, the sort of person who would serve blue soup at a dinner party. No matter how many years I spent at Vogue.
As a student, I once got stuck atop of spiky metal gate trying to escape from a temp job after hours. A bunch of us had trouped out of the front door, heard the latch click behind us, then found that monstrous front gate locked and the street - our escape - denied to us.
One by one my friends scaled and jumped the gate, landed on their feet and walked to freedom. Not me. No. I went last, got stage fright and got stuck up there, skirt around my waist, Christmas knickers exposed for all to see, until the caretaker came and OPENED THE GATE. Sent me and my xmas undies swinging to the general hilarity of the crowd that had gathered to giggle.
Some things never change.
Today is a very busy day. Sue Miller says it's MY MOST IMPORTANT CAREER DAY IN 12 YEARS. I have shit to do. So why, oh why, oh why did I leave my house keys in my car and not notice when my husband locked our back and front doors as he left this morning? I am in a prisoner in my own home. I am very late. I am cross. Bridget lives again. Going to cook some blue soup.
Posted by Mrs Press at 4:32 PM