I may have mentioned before that my mother looks ruddy marvellous and belies the fact on a daily basis that she is a approaching a landmark birthday that isn’t 60.
And she likes to keep tabs on her contemporaries in the public eye to see how they’re getting on in the wrinkle stakes. The turning point for anyone is whether their neck has ‘gone’ or not. For example, Judi Dench. She’s lovely, but her neck’s gone. Anna Ford’s went recently. Julie Walters is still clinging on to hers, I believe. Continue reading…
Nothing makes me feel older than when I realise I am able to look back and see how much things have changed, like some old dear in a nursing home talking about rationing.
But things have changed since my childhood in the 70s and 80s. I remember when kiwi fruit ‘came out’. Much excitement. How do we eat them? Like a boiled egg? How much more vitamin C do they have than an orange? Four billion times? It was mass hysteria. Continue reading…
Picture the scene. It’s sunny. You’re in the garden at a friend’s house, having a cheeky afternoon Pimm’s. Suddenly you realise that the tinted moisturiser with a vague SPF that you put on at nine that morning probably isn’t cutting it, and indeed you start to feel that tell-tale tingle on your forehead. Continue reading…
“It takes more than a cold flannel and some Body Shop oatmeal scrub for me…” Not one of my own pearls of wisdom this time. No, it’s Edina talking to Saffy in Ab Fab. Even in my late teens I knew I had more affinity with the mother than the daughter. Not something I should necessarily be proud of, I know.
But the Body Shop has thankfully moved on – as has the whole industry. And these days, what were in the time of Lacroix and Bolly tentatively called ‘natural’ beauty products, are better known as botanical, pure, organic, plant-derived… (Organic beauty stuff obviously has to be organic, and there are a few pretenders out there so if you’re not sure – and organic is what you want – then check their credentials first.) Continue reading…
I got into coffee very late. I fact I think I wasted a good ten years of my adult life relying on actual energy to get things done. What a fool. Thankfully, in my late twenties I was talked into a cappuccino and I never looked back. These days of course I don’t fanny about with foaming milk and chocolate sprinkles. Good Lord no. When you’ve been up since 5.40am (as I have been today, thanks to a cheery rendition of the CBeebies ‘birthday song’ down the monitor at the aforementioned time) you need something a bit stronger. Not espressos, they don’t last long enough. I’m talking Garfield strength, jet-black liquid with just a splash of cold milk. Essential. Continue reading…
I’ve never been much of a scientist. I toyed with it at about 14 when I took physics, chemistry and biology as my ‘options’. It was partly because I wanted to be a vet (like most 14-year-old girls), an idea that seems farcical now. I feel under pressure removing a woodlouse from the living room – imagine how I would feel wrist-deep in Yorkshire terrier?
The other reason I took ‘The Three Sciences’ was because I had a small crush on the tweed-jacket-sporting physics teacher Mr Keen. But don’t worry, I didn’t even last a term before I switched to the much more airy-fairy choices of Art History and Italian. I had a Road To Damascus moment when Mr Keen was teaching us about Ohms. I looked at him and thought, I might fancy you, but this is just not worth it. Continue reading…
I had my photo taken this week. You may have noticed the results if you follow me on Twitter or if you had a look at my revamped ‘A bit about me’ page here on Product Placement. My photographer, the lovely Frankie, did a great job and she’s a real natural when it comes to putting her subjects at ease. As you can probably tell from my goonish laugh in one of the pictures. Continue reading…
I’m an ex-pat of sorts. Not, I hasten to add the sort who wears animal print when it’s not even ‘on-trend’, has skin the texture of a pickled walnut and gets satellite in her Costa Blanca villa so she can watch Dancing On Ice instead of ‘all that rubbish Spanish TV’. (I’m not sure where that outburst came from. I was clearly poisoned against Brits Abroad by Eldorado. Apologies.) Continue reading…
I hate it when people moan about having colds. Especially the ones who proudly announce (usually from their desk, while eating a sandwich) that ‘it’s actually flu’. Unfortunately, I have in the last couple of days become one of these moaners. I haven’t told anyone it’s flu though. I may be shallow but I’m not a liar. No, I see myself more as a tragic figure much like Beth from Little Women. (Actually, did she not die? Maybe not Beth then…) I long to be found, pale and ghostly in a nightdress, wandering the house in search of my smelling salts, a fan and someone to loosen my bodice. Continue reading…
We’ve all had them. Those presents that make you incredibly grateful that someone came up with the idea of gift receipts. I should know. My other half once decided to enter into ‘clothing and footwear’ territory. (It’s OK, he won’t do it again.)
What happened? Well, he knows I have small feet. But what he didn’t fully understand is that they are small for my height, not for a human being. So, after venturing into The White Company and scaring the staff (who naturally assumed he was a vagrant and tried to hasten him to the exit with spritzes of room spray), he managed to purchase a pair of slippers. And not only were they white, as opposed to my desired Mushroom, they were a size two. Yes, TWO. (Bear in mind I’m about 5 feet 10.) They looked like babies booties. When I opened the box, I thought he had some News for me. Continue reading…
I may have mentioned before that my mother looks ruddy marvellous and belies the fact on a daily basis that she is a approaching a landmark birthday that isn’t 60.
