Strops and Stilettos 7

The photo crisis has been looming since these missives began. I am no fan of having the photo taken. I am also no fan of being asked by my own mother why that evil, weird looking picture of me is still up. It was all I could do to swallow it down and schedule a shoot with my photographer, stylist and picture director. After over 200 shots it became clear that my propensity to look evil was indeed strong. What can I say, I’m all over the Lucifer look. We threw a couple of glasses of vino rosso down my throat in an effort to soften me up somewhat. Anyway here you see the fruits of our labour, and I tell you something, air-brushing is a wondrous thing.  Wondrous. I certainly wouldn’t recommend going online without it.

Later on in the week, my expertise was called upon. I can’t really divulge but suffice to say they needed to know what’s what and I had to zoom on out there to tell them. Specifically I had to go to Switzerland. Via Milan. It was quite the adventure. I jetted in for four hours, threw out my spiel and whizzed back into that waiting car to whisk me home. I’ve always wanted to be one of those girls who can turn up at the airport with one small neat shoulder bag, looking all chic and well put together and generally business-like. Here, I thought, was an opportunity to do just that. I mean I didn’t have anything to check in, how much stuff does a quick Swiss fly-by need?  I tried to get it all in one bag, but what with ballet shoes and ten hand creams and serums and magazines and a manuscript (I tend to only read books in proof form, bounded volumes are just so common) and drinks and bags of seeds to keep my energy up and, well, there was nothing neat and tidy about it. But then how boring must it be to only have one small neat piece of hand luggage? BORING, I say. I think it’s much more fun being me with all my things to be entertained by. Adding to this on my way back - I am never one to miss out on a souvenir opportunity – I snapped up a couple of bits to sum up my Swiss-Italian day trip. What, you say? A giant bar of Toblerone and novelty bottle of limoncello, obviously.