LA Woman

It was inevitable that I would pick up a few cultural traits along the way.
I admit it, I have a high maintenance diet.
And I wear extremely large sunglasses and yes, I have a collection of heels which are great at work for being tall but are the shoes of death at all other times.
My worst crime though, the oversized handbag (or purse as it’s called here). I’m guilty, I admit it. Sometimes there’s nothing in it but a phone and a pair of the above-mentioned very large sunglasses but it’s an LA essential and leaving home without it somehow feels naked.
My dilemma, having started packing is, are three handbags too many? I’m doing everything I can to squeeze bags inside bags; stuffed with socks, scarves, squirrel underpants and anything else small I can find.
I had to have the Hermes Birkin, I couldn’t help it, it was a lovely gift, and actually you can’t tell it’s fake. We’ve renamed it the Firkin (as in fake Birkin) to avoid any confusion. Living in LA one becomes accustomed to asking the question, “Real or Fake?” not always in reference to handbags and it’s not always easy to tell. So the Firkin is coming and I’m repacking… again!
Not the fake Birkin

The Unpredictable Spaniel

It’s my final week in LA.
I thought I’d rented my house out for six months only to get a phone call from the prospective tenants to tell me that they’d “accidentally forgotten” to tell me that they had a dog! How is that possible? It wouldn’t have been a problem (I’m a former/future dog owner after all) except that on closer questioning it became apparent that the dog in question was “unpredictable.”

I’m going to hazard a guess that unpredictable really means ferocious although it was a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. Not exactly Pitbull material so it probably wouldn’t have involved illegal dog fights in my back garden but still, as there’s a small child on the property I thought my neighbours might appreciate not having an unpredictable dog next door.

I resisted the impulse to panic. I’m leaving in a week, I need to have this sorted. So I laughed (albeit a little hysterically) and called Lisa the Lifecoach who was my other (and really, favourite choice). No answer, so I left a message (“don’t sound desperate, don’t sound desperate,” I thought to myself).

The last resort would be the model/actor/bodybuilder/yogi and yes, that’s one person but that’s another story altogether.

I played it as cool as I could and when Lisa called me back, we were both delighted it had worked out. Lisa came round, check in hand and the deal was done. The only thing left to do was go out for dinner and have a couple of drinks to celebrate (or something).
And so the plan is back on, 6 days to go and counting. Lots to do but by next Tuesday evening, I’ll be on a one way flight to London!
A Very Unpredictable Spaniel