The life and times of a happy go lucky blogger in London
Sartorial elegance escapes me
Categories: funny

I’m one of ‘those women’ – the one who walks into a room, smiles and then who falls over in six inch heels and I can sit at my desk for an afternoon with eyeliner transferred in a straight line from my eyelid to my cheek – how I achieved that look is beyond me – but I did this only last week.

Earlier this year I stayed in a plush hotel in Brighton and had a lazy breakfast in the restaurant the next day. It was very elegant, and then I arrived. As I lay out the Sunday papers, I made a grab for the mags. But when I got to the Sunday Times plastic wrapped magazines, I couldn’t rip open the pack. I tugged, pulled and then finally tried to rip it open. Suddenly the whole thing gave way rather over enthusiastically. In a microsecond my arm punched my cup of tea which flew up into the air and did a 360 degree loop the loop, spraying tea everywhere, on all and sundry around me. I was mortified and told that I had gone red.

‘How red?’
‘Really red, like bright red.’
‘I’m just embarrassed’
I was quietly giggling uncontrollably behind a magazine but soon stopped. My face did feel hot. In fact, being a ‘nifty’ traveller, I’d packed some Space NK samples and tried out a new face cream, it was reacting and burning. As I put my hands to my face I could feel deep raging heat, and even worse, I was swelling up.

‘Maybe it’s the cream I just tried out.’
‘It must be, you missed a bit, there’s one white stripe on your neck.’
I rummaged in my handbag for a mirror and surveyed my new look. Two blue dots on a tomato – that’s what my bloody face looked like.

‘Crikey, we’ve got to get out of here!’ I squawked.
I hurriedly scooped up the papers and hoped to sneak out of the restaurant unnoticed. No chance.

I looked around for the exit. There, ahead of me, was a gap between two tables to get through. I eyed it up to see if I could get through with my big bag and bundle of newspapers. My face was hurting, my eyes were smarting with embarrassment and I tried to make a nifty twist between the two tables.

No such luck.

My wiggle was more elephantine than I’d anticipated. I heard water splashing and turned around to see, much to my horror, that I’d up ended a vase of flowers on the table of two guests eating their breakfast.

‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry’ I said as I turned round to face them. I tried to dry them off with napkins, but at this point, they were so afraid of what might happen next, they held onto them for dear life.

‘Not to worry’ They looked at me and laughed, they’d obviously already spotted my tea cup disaster – well out of the packed restaurant of 400 or so people, I think the whole place had.
‘You’re obviously having a bad morning!’ they giggled.

I spotted their drenched Sunday Times.
‘Here, why don’t you have mine?’
‘Oh no need, it’s fine’ said the man.
‘Oh no, please have it, I’m not reading that section anyway.’
‘Oh, so you just want to dump your unwanted sections on us then – and the vase?’
‘Umm, no, it’s not meant like that at all, sorry I have to go, I’m really sorry.’

I’d outstayed my welcome, the mood was turning, it was time to make a real dash for it.

Cue sharp exit from me, now with hands to my reddened face. It’s possibly the only time in my life I have really wished I could be abducted by aliens -I looked like something from the attack of the killer tomatoes. I know for definite, I can never show my face there again.

But being me, life is just one endless source of amusement for those around me.

I walked out of my local beauty salon recently with the staff stifling their laughter – I’d had another one of my famous ‘klutz’ runs.  Moments before I had sat up from a wax and found a large lump (pizza sized of said wax) attached to my leg.  I thought it was a growth and nearly screamed the place down, and then, as I went to leave the room the beautician had to stop me as I had a velcro hairband stuck on my head – it took a few pulls to remove. How it got there I don’t know, I certainly don’t wax my head.

After popping to the loo and grabbing my handbag, I pottered back upstairs only to miss the top step and make a very loud upward landing.  I was greeted with raised eyebrows by the manicurists and their customers.  I couldn’t help laughing and as I got to the till it had become a full on and infectious giggle.

If you see me out in public, you’re best to run for the hills in case you get dragged into one of my calamitous dramas.

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