Diary of a free woman – Decisions
Saturday morning is chaotic. Instead of spending the previous evening cooking the food I promised for the afternoon’s picnic I spent two and a half hours chatting on google talk. The chat had been much too interesting and increasingly naughty to cut short; the extremely gorgeous person to whom I had been chatting is currently working abroad but when home, lives just off the A12, a road I already know very well and may come to know even better. I realise I am adding further complications to my already confused state but it certainly prevents my brain from reaching a state of atrophy.
I give the cooking my full concentration and four hours later have a cool box filled with home made Scotch eggs, crudites with my own mayonnaise and a lemon cake with lemon curd and marscapone filling.
Food prepared I now have to face the much more important issue of what to wear and how much preparation is needed. Dinner with G would required detailed attention to all access areas, something which would be unnecessary for a family dinner. The beige linen dress would fit both occasions but the Coco de Mer lingerie and stockings would definitely be out of place in Camden.
Having spent far too long in dithering indecision I finally set off for London. As usual I’m running late, a heavy cool box and overnight bag slow my progress and sitting on an overcrowded train I entertain the other passengers with my make up routine. I don’t think anyone on the train has ever seen Touche Eclat before and they look suitably impressed as the dark shadows under my eyes disappear with deft brushwork. Balancing the contents of a full make up bag, nail varnish and a coffee on my knee requires concentration but by the time I reach Liverpool Street my face no longer resembles something that would scare horses. The weather forecast is not promising so I decide to buy an umbrella in Accesorize and am lucky enough to find one that matches my dress. God forbid I should be seen with an unmatched outfit! Whether I spend the evening on my knees on G’s Persian rug, drinking champagne or in Camden, listening to my cousin whose voice is a cross between Joyce Grenfell and sandpaper being rubbed on a cheese grater, I have no intention of being seen with frizzy hair so the umbrella is a must.
I finally arrive at Lancaster Gate 45 minutes late but my patient girlfriends have waited for me. Stopping to buy wine for the picnic I am having difficulty balancing cool box, overnight bag, handbag and now a carrier bag filled with bottles of wine and struggle into Hyde Park. The picnic is a great success spoiled eventually by the weather which sends us first to the shelter of a tree. When the rain eventually finds its way through the leaves and pours into the remains of the picnic we decide the time has come to find the nearest pub. Two pubs, several glasses of red wine later and with damp clothing the time comes for me to move on and I accept a friend’s kind offer to use her hotel room to change so off I go.
Half an hour later, changed and with make up repaired I exit the hotel and ask the doorman to find me a cab. The cab pulls up and in I get. I give the driver the address but am I on my way to night of fun in Blackheath or a night of doing my family duty in Camden ………………………..
By Ms Naughty
