Friday, 24 July 2009

festival fever

tent - tick
magic self-inflating mattress - tick
sunnies - tick
pashmina - tick
stove - tick
kettle - tick

book to read
book to write in
wellies (have hole in - should I risk it?)

I am so looking forward to my literary break. I went to Port Eliot a couple of years ago and had a great time. There's no reason to think this one won't beat that. A bigger line up, live bands and the programme looks fantastic. I'll try to blog but it's unlikely. I'm certainly not going to twitter as I can't work out how to do anything than tweet from my laptop. I haven't got the brain capacity to work out mobile tweeting and pack at the same time.


Having had wonderful treatments and a whole day of R&R, I developed a searing headache last night. I took double-dose paracetomol and tripped off to my friend J's house for a spot of end-of-term houmous dipping and wine sipping. Said head was so severe I started with a lime and sparkling water concoction. Wasn't sure about that but by the time I reached the bottom of the glass I was feeling much perkier.

It must have been the toxins. Apparently we're all full of them. I read about 54 magazines yesterday (I know, I exaggerate, sorry) and I now feel compelled to avoid sugar, salt, cake, wine, fruit juice (too much sugar) and Paris Hilton. If I followed these instructions, I would also avoid fun and enjoyment and my tastebuds would shrivel and hate me for ever.

I also read an article about a gym, apparently frequented by Hugh Grant which charges 'committed clients' (I think they may have to be) £100 per hour for their advice and admonishments. Apart from the prospect of pairing up for pilates with the Grant, what could they possibly be offering? I'm no fitness guru but I do think a fair bit can be achieved with a concerted effort on the exercise front and slightly fewer hobnobs. I really think that all the pseudo-scientificating of food and our physical appearance just turns us all off and makes us all think that we can't do anything without expert assistance.

I'm convinced there's a gap in the market for 'common-sense coaches' but I think that may be a symptom of my 40-plus-ness. I have decided to start a piggy bank for potential botox and fillers as my constantly raised arches are going to make an unsightly ridge across my forehead and will quite likely require non-invasive surgical procedures in the near future.

1 comment:

Only Me said...

Have a wonderful time - think you might need to check that corkscrew, pen and sketchbook are definitely ticked before you leave and I reckon take a risk with the holey wellies.

Umm - £100 english pounds an hour is outrageous and the thought of pairing up with Mr Grant would not entice me - mind you i've never been any good at the gym.