The rules of the award are that you should pass the award on to a handful of blogs with under 300 followers and provide a link back to the person who awarded it to you. So, in no particular order.....
And thank you all so much for your warm wishes of bon voyage. I shall endeavour to report back as faithfully as the censor will allow and hopefully, with the help of the divine Christina, fromFashion's Most Wanted learn how to put up a photo or two.......
With holiday in the air.......whether like me you’re jetting down to South America or planning an Easter staycation sandwiched between two super-sized bank holiday weekends..... there is no better time to dust yourself down and spruce yourself up. It’s not called Spring Clean for nothing. The sun has shown it really can shine and, hopefully, will be back to shine some more........ oh please don’t let that be it..... raising the temperature and our spirits. After the longest winter in recorded history......at least that’s what it felt like ..... with the endless dark, desolate skies clagged in drizzle and the damp-rot of dull grey days, it’s easy to let the beauty routine slide: complexions become pallid and sagged, limbs plump and flab with more than a hint of winter mange. It’s not a good look.
And so I hastily made the necessary appointments, have started walking to a bus stop further away than usual.....every little bit helps.....and am refusing all solids till after take-off.....after my low-carb-holiday-of-Malbec-and-steak I hope to return fit –for-summer. Now waxed and polished, so to speak, I do feel a whole lot better, lighter, brighter, fit for purpose. And so I got to wondering, why didn’t I pay more attention to myself sooner?
“Well,” she said, twisting the phone cord around her ring finger, “You know, the type who are trouble.”
“Trouble?” he said, his words in English, his accent in Spanish.
“Drink too much, too many drugs,” she laughed nervously, had he missed the joke? Did he even understand anything she was saying? And anyway, what did he mean what type of man did she like? When did choice come into it?
“Aah.... trouble.” He did get the joke. “Maybe you need a different type.”
“Yes, I think maybe I do.”
She looked at his picture again. This had to be a joke. A Spanish joke: tall, dark and somewhere between Javier Bardem and Antonio Banderas. It was a good joke.
“So,” she said, “Where are you from?”
Barcelona, she thought, Madrid perhaps?
“Me,” he said, “I am from Argentina.”
“Argentina!” “Yes, I am from Argentina.”
“ Oh. My. God. But I’m going to Argentina.”
“You are going to Argentina?”
“Yes, I’m going to Arentina.”
“Then I think we should have a coffee,” he said, “yes?”
“Yes.” She said.
Top tip: don’t wait for the sun to put it’s hat on, treat yourself to a trip to the beauty parlour.
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