The Bearded One lives in Notting Hill. And before you ask, no, he is not an oligarch or a hedge fund manager or an exiled royal. He has been there since the days when dinosaurs roamed Holland Park. Actually, who knows, perhaps they still do, along with the abandoned guinea pigs. Oligarch's kids probably have pet triceratops. Not that this is any excuse for staying, in my view. He should have moved somewhere grittier when the bankers started arriving. I would harangue him about what a class traitor he is, but my mouth is usually full of Hummingbird cup cakes or Whole Foods organic swan burger, so biting the hand that feeds me is out. But I am still full of the moral superiority of one who was dragged up on the mean streets of, um, York.
So. Notting Hill. I hate it with the heat of a thousand suns. Why are they all so PRETTY (not the Bearded One)? And so blonde and so shiny and stylish and well-dressed (again, not the Bearded One)? Is it not enough to be rich beyond my wildest dreams, they have to be genetically blessed too? I realise I have probably got the sequence wrong here - their top prize in the genetic lottery wins them a fund manager. Whatever. They stroll around with their trilingual gifted children like a terrifying master race in Tod's flats and Orla Kiely sundresses. I swear, I am not even part of the same species. When I walk past those streets full of gorgeous pastel stuccoed mansions, I feel like I should scurry along in the gutter and tug my forelock in deference, ducking to avoid a glancing blow from the passing Birkin bags.
Then there are the overheard conversations which make me want to give myself an amateur lobotomy with a plastic fork.
- Yah, I tried the early morning Kundalini class a few times but Rafaella kept putting the wrong Goji berries in Isolde's porridge so now I've swapped to Katrina's matwork class at 10:30, and then I go for a deep tissue with Sven. He's AMAZING. Can I get you another soycino?
- Are you in town this weekend? We were supposed to be going down to Babington House, but Flora and Archie just couldn't miss the School Fair, so I've sent Gabriella down to Ottolenghi for some nibbles for the cake stall. Yah, Archie is doing a Japanese recital with the rest of the infants. Will I see you at the farmers market tomorrow? Or shall we meet up for juice at Toms? They have some really gorgeous new season stock in Matches..
- Hurry up and finish your edamame Mungo or you won't have time for your sugar free popsicle before Mummy and Me yoga!
Jealous? Yup, abso-fecking-lutely. Notting Hill - here's hoping it gets eaten by a stray T-Rex. But pass me that gluten free fairy cake first.