1. Grooming news
I had the birthday stain removed from my tooth yesterday, so I am basically winning at this year and no longer need to do anything, yes? Admittedly, it has had the usual domino toppling effect and now I have to go back and have something else done and the whole operation will doubtless cost me hundreds of euros I do not have. But. At least I can (i) leave the house and (ii) open my mouth in public. I will take this puny win, thank you.
The dentist is awful though, isn't it. Even when it's not actively, hurtily, awful and frightening, there is not a scrap of dignity to it, lying there having your drool sucked up by a tube as a nice young lady scrapes at your tooth filth with a high tech hook. I felt like a mangy rescue donkey having its giant yellow molars filed. Someone needs to invent an alternative to teeth, and fast.
Other sartorial issues currently pressing:
(i) No waterproof footwear apart from wellington boots. Resorted to patent Marc Jacob flats with glittery stars on for lunatics and primary school children at birthday parties yesterday (not a great look for an adult-shading-into-crone). Bastarding Top Shop have sent my boots by, I can only surmise, flightless pigeon, since it has been three weeks since I ordered them and still there is no sign.
(ii) Facial leprosy improved but ongoing. I had to resort to BURNS CREAM as suggested by someone in the comments.
(iii) No trousers that are decent and of an appropriate size.
(iv) Angry red infected eyelash follicle, which is pretty fucking ironic when you do not HAVE any eyelashes.
Solutions: none. Not getting dressed or leaving the house works most of the time, but it means that when you do go out, the problem is a million times more acute.
2. Cultural News
Further details emerge, slowly, tantalisingly, of F's 20 December opera extravaganza. There will be a scene featuring a dead Verdi (a much coveted role, I am given to understand) ascending a pile of Pompeii victims. F has several minor roles, including "Pompeii ash victim" ("How does one costume a Pompeii victim?" my friend E mused. "'Here, wear this sand cloak. Try not to move'") and my particular favourite, 'anvil'. This is well up there with all our nativity disappointments, isn't it (this, incidentally, is a good compilation of bitter Nativity stories. I have a great deal of long-cherished bitterness about being passed over various times in the school Nativity play and it was a cathartic read)? F doesn't seem to mind. He will be the very best anvil that has ever been. He will be vibrating with great musicality.
He has just filled me in on the very interesting introductory song, which includes a section that goes:
Verdi aimait beaucoup les femmes
Mais les gens n'appréciaient pas
Que Giuseppina et Teresa
Habitait sous le même toit.
Verdi loved women
But people did not approve
Of Giuseppina and Teresa
Living under the same roof.
I am febrile with excitement about the whole business.
3. Rage news
Having attempted to get ahead with my Christmas preparation with the assistance of online retailers I am being crushed from all directions for my naivety and hubris. My aforementioned Topshop boots have vanished without trace into the ether somewhere between whatever sweatshop they are made in and Uccle. Topshop customer service is predictably unmoved. Hawkin's Bazaar, normally one of my top three retailers (I am not sure what the others are - Lakeland? Betty's by Post? Yes, probably those), has totally failed to deliver me my splat frogs, bug eyed bugglies and classic joke range fake doog poo. Instead they have sent me a fucking DIABOLO, as if I were running a holiday camp for hippies. I am full of puny, foot stamping frustration. Then, to add insult to injury, I tried to track my Amazon parcel and discovered that my long overdue Hex Bugs (a sort of jolly, low-fi robotic insect) have been in Charleroi for the past five days. Five days! What the fuck are they doing in Charleroi? I've never managed to spend more than three hours there.
"They are breeding in that package, you realise" someone said. "By the time they deliver it there will be THOUSANDS of them writhing away in there"
"They have taken over the airport" someone else suggested, which would indeed be a vast improvement on Ryanair. "A swarm of them has carried Michael O'Leary off to their lair".
Which at least gave me a laugh. What a vision. Hex Bug Air would be an interesting take on aviation, I feel, going round in round in circles really fast without any discernible purpose and occasionally falling over.
I must go now, because I am behind on seventy eight types of thing, including grudgingly dumping a handful of sweets and a tangerine in the children's slippers to celebrate Saint Sinisterklaas and his horrible festival of fear and leaving realistically equine bite marks in the carrots left for his donkey, this at least, I am amply qualified to do (see 1, above).
What are your main sartorial issues currently? And which online retailer do you currently hate with the heat of a thousand suns (other rage triggers are also acceptable)?