The Head Girl and The Firemen

I have just experienced quite the most satisfying verbal exchange in quite a long while:

As I made my way home about 10 minutes ago, I noticed a Fire Engine waiting at the lights as I crossed the road. I must at this point add that I like Firemen a lot - not just in a "hot-in-uniform" sort of way either, but in a "wow, you save lives and drive trucks with sirens" sort of way. They are cool.

As I reached the pavement parallel to them, I accidentally dropped a letter I had to post, and had to bend down to pick it up. This action caused my skirt to rise above my knee, exposing the shameful appearance of my stockings today.

One of the firemean shouted over:

"Oi, sweetheart, did you know you've got a ladder in your stockings?"

I replied, a little cockily:

"Actually, there's three!"

Not to be outdone, he came back with:

"Well, mine's bigger than yours!" (cue much laughter from the guys in the cab)

I was stunned. Yes, of course, your Fire Engine has a ladder which is easily, oooh, 100x bigger than the ones in my stockings. Normally, I would have just blushed and walked on, but no, the Power of Triple Espressos carried me through and with my most beguiling smile, I retorted:

"True. But you aren't climbing these ones!"

His co-Firemen all wooped at him, and I strutted off home, feeling a bit surprised, but rather smug.

The Nightdress Chronicles

I have been awake for all of 15 minutes and already I have a story worth blogging.

In the last week I have been outside in my nightdress TWICE at a most unsuitable time of day. I'm about to tell you why.

In the first one, you need to imagine me in a very long, floor-length if you will, white vintage linen nightdress with long sleeves and small buttons at the front and red and white stripy socks. It is late, around 2am and, vodka and skinny coke in one hand, everyone's favourite New Maldenite at my side (he currently clad in my finest EMINEM hoody), I ran off into the darkness with some vague notion of playing in the park near my house.

I must have looked like something from an Asian Horror Movie, all hair, pale skin and long white nightie.

Then you need to imagine that I am running around amongst trees picking miniature daffodils while NM laughs at me in a good natured way. Follow this with us skipping across the park to give said daffs to a pair of circus performers (or, indeed, "clowns") in exchange for them showing us their skills (or lack off in his case, leading to NM telling him he was a lying clown and couldn't juggle at all). NM played Frisbee with her and I got him to teach me "poi". That didn't really work cos they kept getting tangled and NM left the Frisbee miles away and got her to run after it. Then she tried to give me her shoes because I was only in my socks. Luckily, dear readers, they didn't seem to mind the pair of slightly insane people who were talking to them and we returned to the house unscathed to unsuccessfully attempt to make the video play some Eddie Izzard for us.

In the second, at 10.30 this morning, swap my Victorian attire for something far less suitable - a pale blue 1920's shift dress made of silk infact, low cut and strappy. Acessorise with last night's smudgy eyeliner and mussed up plaited hair. Perfect. I look a bit like a junkie.

The scene - the doorbell rings. There being no-one else in the house, I run downstairs thinking "Ooooh, the postman! Presents and pretty things!" So there I am, exiting the door to my flat, flipping the latch to keep me safe and running to the main front door to greet the postman, (who is indeed carrying a parcel and it does subsequently contain something rather amazing, but I digress) and as I open the huge ornate door, the wind rushes by me and oh cruel fate, oh cruel fate, oh shoddy workmanship, "BAM", the door to my flat slams.

Postman walks off, unaware that I am now trapped in the little corridor, no keys, no phone, wearing just a small excuse for a nightdress and clutching a large brown paper parcel.

What do I do?

I open the parcel.

I do a small dance of joy, and for a few seconds all is well. Then I put the contents down and cry a few hot tears of desperation as it is at this point that I realise my flatmate will be out until 5pm and that's a most decadent amount of time to stand around in your nightwear. Then I decide to go and see if the LandLady is in (bear in mind that we haven't made ourselves too welcome with her, but none-the-less, I must try!)

Cue me walking in the sunshine, a bunch of roadworkers gawping at me, through the street barefoot until I got to her and mercifully, she was there, saw the funny side, and gave me a spare key. I also had a lovely chat with her small son about him going to a party this afternoon (seriously, don't parents teach their kids not to talk to wide-eyed, slightly confused, sleepy looking strangers any more?)

And here I am! Returned safely to the sanctuary of my room to drink water and redbull, get dressed, dye my hair and decide what to do today, and dropping spare key off with LandLady - I might be going to London you see...to be honest, the day can only get better, and fuck it, the sun's out so I'm going to play in it....Have a lovely day everyone xxxxxx