I've ironed my vintage inspired cherry blossom cotton pyjamas;
I've cleaned my leather shoes, handbag and washbag.
I've grown into my racist haircut which I've now decided is much more Salt N' Pepa than National Front.
I've given myself a lip and chin wax.
The home made honey, oat and prune mask has been applied (twice)
The eyebrows are plucked - legs and armpits shaved.
I've run a cool iron over my original 1953 Queen Elizabeth Coronation Scarf.
My Kate and Wills dirt cheap bunting is packed alongside my Rose Cava and my English breakfast tea bags.
Commemorative mugs packed.
Manicure done. Nails already chipped.
Outfit dry-cleaned, I've shined my trusty Kurt Geigers and dusted off my passport.
You'd be forgiven for thinking that I had a bloody invite to Buckingham Palace but no - I'm going one better. Off to a wedding in Dublin where the 'Royal Wedding' will be virtually imperceptible as it is happening in another country. Not a massive fan of the Royals, its the perfect plan for the woman who wants to pretend its not happening.
There is one massive flaw in my plan. Cupcake, the sentimental, weepy Royalist is coming with me and she fully intends to torture me through every second of it.
Its a shame I don't know any drug dealers in Dublin as the only way I cam imagine surviving the whole sorry affair is to be very stoned.
I'm literally out of the door people!!!
I will be back from Dublin on Sunday and my next post will be 'in pictures'.
Like this one was.
Whatever you're doing this weekend. Enjoy!
4 years ago